Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(3)

It went on like this for the rest of the summer. I couldn’t wait to log on, couldn’t wait to see the notification that LeoHernandez13 was inviting me to play with him. We’d kill zombies and laugh and fight over upgrades and who was better at what skill. In the lobby between raids, we’d talk, and the more we did, the deeper the conversations went.

I told him about the god-awful deal I’d made with my mom in order to get this game, and he laughed, asking what kind of dress I’d get for the debutante ball and if I was as good at dancing as I was at slaying zombies.

But his voice softened when he told me about the pressure he felt from his own parents, namely his father.

“He wants me to follow in his footsteps and go to Southern Alabama to play, but I love New England. I love Boston. I just… I can’t imagine leaving.”

“You don’t have to.”

He laughed. “You don’t know my dad. I’m his pride and joy. It’d crush him if I didn’t go to his alma mater.”

“But it’s your life,” I reminded him. “He can’t live both his and yours, too. Besides, wouldn’t he be proud of you no matter where you decided to play football?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Years of disappointing my parents and still having them love me.”

There was a soft laugh through the headset, and then silence. “Hey… I know this is kind of against all the rules our parents set up for us when we started playing live video games but… do you think I could have your number?”

Butterflies.

Butterflies everywhere.

“Sure.”

When I gave it to him, he freaked out.

“Wait, 781… that’s Weston! That’s where I live!”

Shit.

Panic zipped through me. I hadn’t thought about him putting two and two together when I gave him my number.

I bit my lip in lieu of answering.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Well, that’s because I assumed you were in, like, I don’t know, Canada or something.”

“Canada?” I laughed.

“What school do you go to?”

That killed my laugh. “Uh… it’s a small private school, you wouldn’t know it.”

“I go to a private school, too.”

Sweat prickled the back of my neck. “I have to go. Mom is yelling at me to go to sleep. Wants me to get on schedule before school starts. Bye!”

I logged off before he could respond, my heart hammering in my chest. I flopped back on my bed and closed my eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But then, my phone buzzed, and a text from a new number came through.

Unknown: Sweet dreams, Stig.

I thought that was it, but after I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, there was another one waiting for me.

Leo: I’m really glad I met you.

The next morning, my phone rang at seven AM. I answered blearily without even checking who it was, because I never got phone calls, let alone that early.

“Rise and shine,” Leo said.

I bolted upright.

He called me?!

“Um… hi?”

“Figured I’d help your mom in her quest to get you ready for the school routine,” he said. His voice sounded even warmer over the phone, more crisp than over the headset I was used to hearing him in. “Plus, I have football practice, and it just feels fair that you should have to get up at the same time as me since you kept me up so late.”

“I kept you up?”

“All summer long. You really are a bad influence.”

“Says the one who asked for a stranger’s phone number online.”

“And I don’t have a single regret.”

I flushed, flopping back onto my bed and covering the phone so he wouldn’t hear my ridiculous little squeal.

“Hey, Stig?”

“Yeah?”

“Draw me something.”

“What do you want me to draw?”

“Anything,” he answered quickly. “Show me a part of who you are.”

“Why?”

A pause. “Because I like you.”

My eyes widened, heart hammering so loud I couldn’t hear myself when I responded with a weak, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said.

And even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was smiling.





Mary

We talked every day, and every night, for the next two weeks.

I woke up to good morning texts that made me squeal and thrash in my covers, they made me so happy. At night, it seemed we spent less and less time playing games and more time on the phone, talking for hours until our throats were hoarse.

The first time he sent me a picture, I dropped my phone. Literally. It was just a selfie of him after summer practice, his hair a sweaty, matted mess, his lips chapped, skin red. But his smile was wide and blinding and all for me.

I didn’t send a picture back, and he didn’t push.

I loved playing Xbox with him. I loved when he texted me some stupid meme or told me a funny story about his family. I loved when he asked me if we were ever going to hang out in real life and then let me change the subject.

But my favorite nights were the ones he’d call me and we’d just lie there and talk.