Page 21

Boyfriend – Justin Bieber

Declan

S omeone is going to flip the coffee table.

It’s a guarantee given the competitive energy suffocating Deon’s hotel room.

Jack, Henry, Deon, and I are packed into the small hotel room. Jack sits on the couch, Henry in a chair, Deon on the floor right in front of the television, and I’m on the edge of the bed.

“Get out of my way!” Deon yells, jamming his fingers against the Switch controller, as if using brute force will make Princess Peach drive faster across the rainbow bridge.

“Eat dust!” Henry yells back and launches a banana.

Jack isn’t fast enough, and his car swirls around in the top right corner, and his position number drops to the back of the pack. “Fuck you!”

All fingers stop movement as the swear word hangs in the air. Deon turns his head, Henry’s jaw slackens, and I stare at him with wide eyes. For a man who is known not to swear, he creates a mighty presence when he does.

His lips tilt up in a victorious smile. “You three are too easy to distract. I win.”

Heads dart back to the screen where his kart has crossed the finish line, and Bowser is celebrating his victory. Deon groans loudly and tosses the small controller at Jack, who catches it with ease.

“It’s not over yet!” I yell, jamming my fingers against the buttons to bump Deon out of second place.

I’m flying over the rainbow bridge while Deon scrambles upright. “Give me that!” he yells, throwing his body at Jack to get the controller back. “I need to win!”

“Even the computers are going to beat you,” Henry says, taking third place while Deon drops behind the computer players.

Jack finally returns the controller, but it’s too late. A large ‘Nice Try’ fills Deon’s corner of the screen.

“I only lost because Jack swore,” Deon says with a pout.

“Mhm. Sure.” He glares daggers at me, but I throw a bag of seasoned pretzels at his head, and his entire demeanor shifts.

He digs into the bag and crouches over it like Gollum and the ring. Nobody shall touch his precious pretzels.

“Another round?” Henry suggests.

We all nod, and after four rounds of Mario Kart, where Jack and Henry dominated, my phone rings. The two most beautiful smiles I’ve ever witnessed appear on my screen, and my heartbeat picks up speed.

“I gotta take this.”

“Tell Addie I say hi!” Deon yells.

“See you tomorrow,” Jack calls out.

I slip out of the room and answer FaceTime. Nora’s face is pressed against the camera, her smile filling the screen. “Hi, Decy!” she yells, “I miss you. What are you doing? Are you playing football? Are you my mom's boyfriend?”

“Hey!” Addie steals the phone, and her eye twitches as she appears. “That was not on the pre-approved questions list,” she mutters.

“When are you coming home?” Nora asks, “I made you a drawing.” She holds up a piece of paper with three stick people standing in the center, holding hands. There’s blue squiggles and fish in the background.

“Is that us at the aquarium?” I ask. She nods rapidly with a shy smile. “It’s wonderful.”

“You can hang it up if you want,” she offers.

“I think it would look perfect in my locker at work.” Her cheekbones rise, and her eyes crinkle from her wide smile. “And to answer your other questions, I’m walking back to my hotel room. I’ll play football tomorrow against the Florida Panthers. I miss you, too. And no, I’m not her boyfriend, though I’d like to be,” I admit, unlocking my door and falling into the fluffy hotel sheets. “If the position is open.”

“You would?” Addie lights up on the screen, her hazel eyes full of hope and surprise.

I roll my lips between my teeth to prevent a smile.

“Nora?” Her head pops into view. “I need to amend my statement. I am her boyfriend. Do with that information what you will.”

“I’m a princess!” she screams and disappears. The camera flips to feature the living room—once again a nightmare of toys and crafts—and Nora at the center of the chaos, spinning in circles in pink pajamas covered in little hearts.

Addie’s laughter is music to my ears. “Alright, Princess Nora, it’s time for bed.” The camera turns again. “I’ll call you back in ten?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

While she’s gone, I set out my pre-game outfit for tomorrow—a matching cotton-candy colored denim set and a pair of Air Forces—and get ready for bed. I’m slipping my glasses on when her name pops up on my screen, and my stomach does a flip.

“Hi.” Her cheeks are flushed a deep red, and she curls a strand of hair behind her ear. I smile, and she offers one in response. “So…”

“Yes?”

“About this boyfriend thing…” My stomach roils at the tone. “I have a list of musts .”

“ Musts ?”

“That every good boyfriend must do.” Her smile turns mischievous. “One. You must rub my feet when I ask. Two. No ordering me a meal for rabbits.” She laughs. “Three. You have to sleep on the right side of the bed, so if we have an attacker, you can fight them off. Four. You can’t give in to Nora’s insane demands, no matter how great of an argument she makes for Pizza Rolls.”

My smile is enormous in the corner of the phone as she rattles off the silly list.

“Any more?”

“Yes. I like the emergency Kit Kat's. You can keep doing that. But, most of all,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “you have to continue to do that thing with your tongue.”

She sticks her tongue out and swirls it around.

“Offer accepted,” I say, “and I’ll do the tongue thing whenever you’d like.”

Her pupils dilate, and she draws her lips between her teeth. “Nora has a playdate on Tuesday,” she says, eyes flickering around the room.

“Hm. I think I’m busy,” I respond airily. Her face falls, but she quickly recovers and plasters on a forced smile.

“Oh, well, that’s alright.”

“I have a date with my girlfriend,” I finish. I wink, and her face flames. “Am I allowed to tell people we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Do you want to?”

“I’ve wanted to text the girls from the moment Nora asked. My fingers are twitching.”

I want to scream it from a blimp so the entire country knows, but I’ll start small with the book club group chat and work my way up to national confessions.

Addie laughs, but nods.

“They’re going to freak.”

I send off the text, and then take a moment to bask in her warm smile and how beautiful she looks right now.

“I have to do the dishes,” she says with a frown, “keep me company?”

She props the phone behind the sink, and a massive tower of cups, plates, and cookware appears. Oof. We’re going to be here a while.

“How was your day?”

She picks up the sponge at the corner with two pinched fingers, and her shoulders jerk and her face contorts. The sponge flies toward the steaming water and lands in the basin with a thud. Her lips curl as she wrings it out.

“It was alright,” she says, scrubbing a pan with aggression, “My dad texted me asking me to talk to my mom.”

“Oh?”

Her brows furrow in concentration as she cleans. “They’ve tried to reach out a few times since I moved to Seattle, but the texts are more frequent now.”

“Do you want to talk to them?”

She meets my gaze through the screen. “I don’t know.” She picks up a frying pan. “Why now? I lived in Omaha for four years, and they never reached out. It was a ten-minute drive to my apartment. But now they want to talk? And they’re so vague over text, like if they withhold the reason they want to talk, I’ll cave.”

“When was the last time you spoke to them in person?”

“Before Nora was born.”

I try to neutralize my shock, but Addie catches it.

How could any parent stop speaking to their child for a choice like Addie made? I don’t understand. She and Nora are incredible—by far the best thing that’s ever entered my life.

They’re full of joy and wonder, and they make me feel like I’m a part of it.

She clicks her tongue. “They’re my parents—I love them—but their love felt conditional, and I don’t know if I want to introduce that into Nora’s life.”

“I understand.”

I can’t blame her for wanting to keep Nora safe, even if I would give anything to speak to my birth parents, just to know why ? Why did they surrender me? Did they love me at all?

Those are questions that have stuck with me since childhood.

“I have a half-sister,” I admit, and Addie’s eyes widen in shock. “We’re not in contact anymore, but I spent a long time trying to save a sinking ship instead of getting onto a lifeboat.”

She scrubs a baking pan, and the grating sound fills the speaker. Addie doesn’t press for information, but gives me the space to share or change the topic.

“I took a DNA test in college, and we matched as siblings. She lived in South Bend, where I went to school, and I was so excited, and she seemed to be, too. We shared the same father, but she didn’t know who he was.”

I’ll never forget the shock of learning I had someone I was related to—a sister.

“It was good for a time, then she started asking for money. It got so bad, I started selling plasma to help her pay her rent.” I swallow the embarrassment. “My teammates had to tell me to cut her off. I did it, but it hurt.

“We reconnected last year, but after a few meetings, she asked for money again, and when I denied her, she blew up. She lives somewhere on the East Coast now.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, and it’s for the best.”

It hurt for a long time, but I’ve healed from the loss.

“What do you think I should do?”

I can’t hide the shock from my features, and Addie chuckles as she scrubs paint out of a glass cup.

“I’ll never tell you what to do,” I say.

“Good to know, but I’m asking as a partner. I want your input and advice.”

The world pauses its rotation around the sun as her words settle into my soul. Addie puts down a cup and leans toward the phone. “Declan? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I-I need a second,” I choke out, emotion short-circuiting my processors. Concern overtakes her soft hazel eyes, and I slow my breathing, forcing my pulse to return to a steady beat.

Right now, I don’t have the words to explain how her words impact me. How, for so long, I’ve wanted someone to navigate life with. Someone to lean on, and confide in—a partner.

One day I’ll have the right words, but for now, I can answer her question truthfully.

“I’m in a unique position, but I think…I’d give them one shot to prove me wrong.” She nibbles on her lip. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, and if it wasn’t for people allowing me to prove them wrong…”

“Your friends,” she cuts in.

I nod. “I would have never found my friends.”

She contemplates as she finishes cleaning the last of the silverware and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. Her hair fans out on an emerald pillow as she lies down on the couch, holding her phone over her head. At this angle, the soft, warm light from a lamp highlights the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

“You don’t need to make a decision right now,” I say, to fill the air. She nods, and it ends the conversation. “So, about this date on Tuesday? Do I need to bring anything?”

The air between us shifts, and Addie’s lips tilt up into a coy smile. “Stamina.”

A bolt of lust zaps down my spine, and she fights laughter at her subtle jab.

“Very funny.” She scrunches her nose. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Can’t wait.”