Seeing Moffy bring his son everywhere reminds me so much of my childhood.
Again, I try to shake the nostalgia.
This outing wasn’t my idea. Jane suggested we all take dates to an Eagles game together, after I expressed feeling left out when they cooked pot brownies. (Apparently, they made them for Eliot, who was gifting them to a friend.)
Jane made sure to include both of my boyfriends. But she still asked me, “How are things going with Banks?” Like she fears I’m seconds from breaking up with him.
Still, it’s fun being here with my cousins and their husbands. All of our significant others are bodyguards and on-duty. Mics on their shirts, cords running behind their ears to their earpieces. Every now and then, I notice how they scan the crowds more than the field.
Eagles intercepted!
I sit forward, attention back on the game.
Fuck yes!
Eagles nail a touchdown! We all jump from our seats and hug. I holler and smile, and Banks shouts, “Go Iggles!”
Akara almost, almost wraps an arm around my shoulders but remembers not to and then throws his arms in the air, clapping over his head.
“Smooth,” I tell him while we take our seats.
“The smoothest.”
Halftime comes, and the jumbotron shows footage of sports fans. Quickly, the footage changes into the dreaded fucking Kiss cam.
And suddenly, I’m staring at my horrified face on the screen. Green streaks are painted on my cheeks, and the Eagles hat shades my eyes. The camera frames me and Akara.
His kissable lips are on screen. He runs a hand through his black hair, and girls go, “Aww,” behind me.
This can’t be fucking happening.
“Kiss, Kitsulli, Kiss! Kiss, Kitsulli, Kiss!” the chanting begins.
Akara acts cool, slipping a sweet smile to me. More awws and shouts to kiss him! surround me. If I kiss Akara in public, I’m solidifying my relationship with him and denying the one with Banks. Unless I kiss both of them, but I’m not confirming my relationship on a fucking Kiss cam.
Some guy is sitting in a camera booth, controlling this outcome, and he’s not dictating the next part of my life.
“KISS, KITSULLI, KISS! KISS, KITSULLI, KISS!”
Akara tilts his head and tugs at his mic cord to the camera, showing he’s a bodyguard. Not a boyfriend, but the shouting never stops and the Kiss cam stays on us.
Maximoff and Jane are trying to wave the camera away.
The camera zooms in on me and Akara.
“Fuck,” I curse, seeing my lips mouth the word on screen, no sound. And I’m so fucking awful at being coy because I look to Banks.
He tries his best not to make eye contact, but the camera zooms out. I’m staring between Banks and Akara, and the sports fans who also happen to be Kitsulli fans—or at least, fans of my family—begin muttering.
Banks gently elbows me like, go kiss Akara.
“No,” I whisper to him, realizing the camera is catching me mouthing the word no.
Banks holds my gaze for a beat.
I’m not doing that to Banks. The world already loves me and Akara together, and I’m not pushing him deeper into the shadows.
Banks peels his eyes off mine and does Akara’s maneuver, tugging at his mic cord to show he’s on-duty. A bodyguard, not a love interest.
I shake my head at the screen and point to Jane on the other side of Thatcher.
The camera literally goes side-to-side, as though shaking its mechanical head at me.
Alright.
You want a Meadows girl on-screen. You’ve got a Meadows girl.
I flip off the camera with two fingers.
And like lightning, the footage switches to a more PG-friendly person. “Yeah, take that!” I shout.
Akara and Banks laugh.
The Kiss cam hasn’t traveled far. Maximoff and Farrow fill the screen, and the crowds chant, “Kiss, Marrow, Kiss! Kiss, Marrow, Kiss!” And the awws are even louder, especially as they move in together, Farrow’s hand taking Moffy’s jaw, and Moffy gripping the back of Farrow’s skull—they kiss with tender affection.
Fireworks literally go off in the stadium, lighting up the sky.
That could’ve been my kiss.
I dip my hat over my eyes and mourn what could’ve been an epic kiss with Akara and Banks. Yet, the world sucks, and they’ll freak out over a poly relationship.
Or am I the one who’ll freak out over the world’s reaction?
My family’s doubt is creeping in like an ugly monster.
I bite into the rubbery veggie hot dog.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
Banks and Akara’s phones sound off on either side of me.
“No,” I groan.
I peek over at Akara’s phone since he’s faster with a cell.
THE ROYAL LEAKS
We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.
ROYAL LEAK #1: Sullivan Meadows is no longer on birth control.
#TodaysLeaks #begonepill #noprotection
“Oh fuck,” I mumble with a mouthful of wiener.
The hot dog sticks to the back of my throat. I cough and wash it down with Akara’s Fizz Life. Fuck, I need to stop eating while I read the leaks.