His question sounds like a lot more than just the one decision. Like he抯 asking if I know him.
揑 don抰 know.?It抯 not a lie, but I can抰 help but feel the honest answer is yes.
Crew抯 gaze lingers on my expression for a few seconds, but he says nothing.
Our seats are right at the edge of the field. I stare out at the expanse of green grass as Crew talks to the man who brought us to them in Italian. My French might be iffy, but my knowledge of the native language doesn抰 extend beyond Ciao.
Even though the game hasn抰 started yet, the field is filled with activity. Players at both ends are running drills and stretching. Others are jogging in place or talking to coaches.
Crew takes the seat next to me. 揧ou know much about soccer??
揥hat is there to know? You try to kick the ball into the net.?
He chuckles softly as he leans back. His bare arm brushes mine, and it sears. The sun has nothing on the surface of Crew抯 skin. 揑 think you missed your calling as a coach.?
I scoff. 揇o you come here a lot??
揅ome where??
揟he villa. This stadium.?
His legs spread out, crowding the plastic barrier that separates us from grass. 揂 few times a year. In college卼he guys would always want to party. London, Copenhagen, you know. And my dad only wants to go to the Alps or to a good golf course.?
揟his is better.?
揂nd here I thought we抎 disagree about everything.?
It抯 not exactly a smooth segway, but I blurt the question anyway. 揂re you expecting last night to happen again??
揥hich part? When you admitted to stalking me, the skipping, or when I carried you up three flights of stone steps??
I抦 not exactly cool, sitting in the sun. But my cheeks still manage to overheat more. 揊orget it.?
揑 hope so.?
Against my better judgement, I meet his gaze. And since he抯 no longer driving, he holds it without worrying about crashing.
揑 really hope so. All of it, plus the sex.?
I pretend that doesn抰 merit a response, choosing to focus on the figures on the field instead of the one next to me. It works for a while, until the actual game starts.
Crew either thinks his commentary is invaluable or is trying to prompt a response out of me, because he spews an endless stream of facts about different players I couldn抰 care less about.
I alternate between smirking and sighing. Professional soccer games last for longer than I thought.
The most excitement is when the black and white ball bounces off a post with ten minutes left. But I抦 not entirely bored.
It抯 hot and loud. We spent the French Open in the shade sipping champagne. Yet I抎 rather be here than back there.
Nearly three hours pass before the game ends. Scoreless, neither team makes a single goal. Crew continues his analysis梪ntil the same man reappears and asks him something in Italian.
He turns to me. 揟he team owner wants to talk. Do you mind waiting??
Days梞aybe even hours ago桰 would have given an honest yes because sitting around here for even longer is one of the last things I feel like doing. Warming toward Crew isn抰 the equivalent of a personality transplant, though, so I don抰 say no either. 揑抣l come with you.?
Something in Crew抯 expression suggests my middle ground isn抰 what he considers a compromise, but he doesn抰 argue, just nods.
We leave our seats, following the mysterious Italian who must work for the team. Halfway up the stairs, Crew grabs my hand, tugging me closer so that his body is the one cutting through the crowd. Once again, I tamp down the urge to fight him. I feel like I抳e proven to Crew I can handle myself. He knows I抦 fully capable of shoving my way through rowdy fans. If he wants to do it for me, fine. A more concerning realization is how much I like the way it feels梙aving him take care of me in some small way. I抳e fought hard to establish independence. Relying on others is often setting yourself up for disappointment. I tell myself this isn抰 a slippery slope, that letting Crew lead me through the stadium isn抰 an indication I抦 knocking down boundaries I carefully built.
I lie to myself.
The crowds thin the deeper we get into the stadium. Most people are leaving, not entering. We pass into a private section that requires our silent guide to flash his badge. The hallway is empty and quiet, the only sounds muffled by concrete walls.
Crew keeps hold of my hand, and I don抰 let go either. We step into an elevator and then out into another hallway, this one carpeted and plush. Full-size photos of players line the walls.
揂ntonio, can you give us a minute??
The man accompanying us桝ntonio梟ods and keeps walking down the hallway for a few dozen feet before stopping.
I glance between him and Crew. 揥hat is it??