One Last Thing

t h r e e

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    TOO MUCH HAS happened tonight that I almost forget we still have to go to the afterparty. Usually Tucker will go with Everett, but since that's clearly off the table, it's on me to take him.

    "We don't have to go if you don't want to," I say as we leave the parking lot, silently praying he'll agree with me and we can just go home instead.

    But he says, with a surprising amount of conviction, "I want to."

    So we do.

    When we pull up to Grayson Lahey's house there's already a row of cars lined in his driveway, so we have to park across the street. I can hear the hum of music playing as we walk up his porch steps, and then the sound opens up into loud bass and the full beat of pop music as we step through the door.

    As soon as we walk in, Lahey locks eyes with us over a group of people he's talking to, and his face splits into a grin. He spreads his arms wide. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour!"

    I can't help the smile that makes its way onto my face. I don't think there's one person in the entire world who doesn't love Grayson Lahey, and he absolutely deserves his flowers. He's the most extroverted, charismatic person I've ever met, but he's also just an all around great guy. You know, the type of person who will spend extra time listening to someone no one else is paying attention to, or the type of person to wait for that one friend to tie their shoe while everyone walks ahead. The type of person who sticks up for you, who never makes you feel bad about yourself, who never leaves anyone behind. The exact type of person you would want to have on your team.

    Everyone in the room turns towards us as Lahey sets his drink down on a nearby table and saunters up to us. He claps a hand on Tucker's shoulder and looks out to the crowd of people. "Everybody listen up! This kid right here just played his first Varsity game as a freshman. A freshman. What do you say to that, Miller?"

    "I say that hasn't happened since Everett," Miller says next to us without hesitation, nodding in approval.

    "And what's Everett, now?"

    His lips curl up. "Pretty fucking good."

    "Pretty fucking good," he repeats. "You give Markey here another three years, and you'll be looking back at this party and realize you were staring at the next big thing. All you lazy fuckers could learn a thing or two from him. Especially you, Austin," he points to the unassuming blonde-haired guy leaning against the wall casually, who just shakes his head with a laugh.

    The party resumes and everyone goes back to their own business, but Lahey looks down at Tucker, the grin not once leaving his face. "How's it going, sport?"

    Tucker's smile is sheepish but filled with admiration nonetheless. "Hey, G."

    "You did good out there, today, Markey. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

    Tucker's face drops a little, and for the first time since the game he lets some of his vulnerability shine though. "I messed up."

    "Nah, nah, nah," Lahey shakes his head, slinging an arm around his neck and pulling him closer. "See, that's what you don't understand—" his eyes search the party like he's looking for something, or someone. His eyes lock on his victim. "Alright, alright, look, you see Chance over there?" Tucker nods. "The kid made Varsity junior year. First game he's in, he fucks up so many plays that Coach has to pull him out because he thinks he's high. And you see Gallagher?"