You win

Sofia - goodnight

The fundraiser's going great—the movie's a hit, the snack bars have lines, and we're well over our expected number of guests. Thanks to Jordan's connections, we were able to get a big screen, and thanks to Sarah's connections, we have somewhat of a clean-up crew. With this turnout, I'm sure we'll be able to afford an away tournament. It may not be Spain, but it won't be here, and that's good enough for me.

"Good work, kid." I'm caught off guard when Coach Smitty approaches with a bag of popcorn in hand.

"Thanks, Coach." I keep it short and simple, as she likes it.

"You're a good one, Delezar." Her smile is faint—probably the biggest I've ever seen. Her deep blue eyes narrow behind me before she walks off, and her reaction tells me all I need to know.

"Still following me?" I ask, exasperation clear in my voice as I turn to look at Stephan.

"Like you said, Delezar, you don't like quitting, nor do I."

"Think of it as an opportunity to go do something else."

"Why would I do that when you're right here?" His voice is low, and his eyes slowly trail down my face.

"Fine, you want to be here? Go make yourself useful and hand out cookies." I point to the stand with Max.

"As you wish, sweetheart." Stephan obliges, heading over, but not before shooting me a short-lived, phoney smile. 

I watch as he interacts with the guests, their laughter loud as he shoots his dimpled smile while giving out the cookies as if each individual person matters. I roll my eyes, though it's not shocking; Stephen Westerman knows how to put on a show in more ways than one.

He's effortlessly charming, his charisma draws people in and makes them feel special. This knack for winning over crowds isn't limited to just this event—Stephen's reputation for being a smooth talker and people person precedes him. He knows how to play his part to win.

"What are you looking at?" Jordan's voice pulls me back to reality, and I turn to see smugness written all over her face.

"Just checking if things are running smoothly," I counter her suggestive tone with a serious one.

"Oh, apologies. I could've sworn you were—" her voice trails off, "pshhh, I don't know, checking something... or someone out." She smiles knowingly.

"I'm checking to make sure Westerman doesn't ruin this event." I look over my shoulder to see the line uncoincidentally longer, as if his ego needs to be further inflated.

"Of course. I bet he was such a disaster when you were alone in the storage shed." 

I snap my head back to Jordan. "What?"

"Sof, big man on campus walks into a soccer event, a sport he doesn't play nor have connections to, and you think his every move isn't being watched? I'm pretty sure they're making another video with him in it." She nudges in his direction, and lo and behold, there he is, being filmed handing out cookies. 

"We're just..." I can't even find the words. I hate lying, especially to my best friend, so I don't. I let the silence answer for me, and she offers a sly smile.

"Extremely unexpected, and this conversation? to be continued." She shoots me an accusatory look. "Oh, and I saved us a spot on the pink blanket. Sit. I'll join with popcorn in five." She pushes me toward the laid-out blanket and two small beanbag chairs.

+++

I've been sitting here far too long for my liking, and Jordan's nowhere in sight. I've tried to leave my stationed area, but I have no excuse; everything is fine.