Beyond

Chapter Ten

The air inside Finn McCool's Irish Pub is warm compared to the damp cold outside. DeAndré and I swim our way through a sea of red, white, and blue toward the bar. "We've got your usual seats, guys," Erica, the bartender, says. "Two beers?"

"You're a Saint, Erica," DeAndré says.

She laughs, "You're just a good tipper."

Every game day, DeAndré and I come down to Finn McCool's along with other local American Outlaws to cheer on our National soccer teams. Friendlies or tournaments, it doesn't matter. We don our red, white, and blue kits and scarves and cheer on our team. It's the beautiful game after all and we wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Erica places the beers in front of us as the spectators begin counting down to the whistle that starts play.

ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .

"I did a thing, André." I bring the bottle to my lips as DeAndré's eyebrow curves upward in suspicion.

six . . . five . . .

"I invited Sebastian."

four . . .

"and Shawn"

André chokes on his beer.

three . . .

"they're both on their way."

two . . .

"You know," DeAndré starts, "when I said to date them both, I didn't literally mean at the same exact moment."

one . . .

the bar erupts into cheers as the ref signals the start of the game. It's almost as if her whistle signals the start of my own match because, not even five seconds later, the two men in question walk through the door. Sebastian holds the door open letting Shawn pass through first. Catching their eyes, I wave them both over. An awkward moment passes between them as they notice each other waving back at me.

"This is going to go great," André says as both boys make their way over to us giving each other major side eye the entire way.

Why did I think this was a good idea? I have no clue, but then again there wasn't any thinking involved. Not really. I just acted. I am crazy for thinking this can work. My breaths are coming in short and quick huffs of air as they get closer.

This will be okay.

I repeat the mantra over and over.

This will be okay.

It's only ninety minutes.

This will be okay.

It's only ninety minutes.

Plus stoppage time.

This will be—

"I'm glad you guys could make it," I greet. "The game just started."

"Thanks for the invite," Sebastian replies. "I was looking for someplace to watch the game." Like the other spectators, Sebastian is sporting our Nation's colors.

DeAndré wraps Sebastian's hand in a handshake, "Good, you're a fan. I didn't want to have to tell you that you couldn't sit with us."

"I'm glad I made the cut, D," he replies.

Shawn steps forward and holds his hand out to Sebastian. "I'm Shawn."

"Sebastian." He takes Shawn's offered hand and shakes.

"Sorry, Seb," DeAndré starts, "I would have introduced you, but I'm so bad with names."

I glare at him.