Of the two, the more important person is…
Obviously Caesar. Whatever the pretext, he and I are on a home date right now.
And Noah probably didn’t seriously mean he was coming over. If I think about white folks’ patter, there’s a good chance it was just part of social niceties…
It’s not like it’s rare for white people to dig for your whole backstory the first time you meet. Then a few days later, when you run into them again, they breeze right past without even a hello—that’s happened to me more times than I can count.
Right, saying no to Noah is the move.
I sorted my priorities fast in my head and opened my mouth.
“I’m with someone else, so that won’t work.”
“Who? Mac?”
“No, a friend you don’t know…”
“I don’t know this friend?”
Noah let out a noise of surprise and burst out laughing.
“Our captain making a new friend—that’s a once-in-a-century event.”
“Mm, well…”
“It’s not like that, right?”
That shut me up again.
What even is this relationship…
A fan and a celebrity? …A fan and a player? Someone courting me and getting kicked over and over?
Explaining felt impossible, so I kept quiet, and Noah suddenly all but shrieked.
“You’re seeing someone?!”
“No, no, that’s not it.”
“Then what? What is it?!”
Why are you so shocked? I’m a person—I can have a fling…
What does he think I am… a monk?
Thrown by the reaction, I fumbled.
“Just… not someone I’m at that point with.”
Noah finally accepted that.
“That level’s fine. I’ll just play defense. Defense is my specialty—I’ve got this.”
“Why are we suddenly talking about football?”
“If Captain starts dating, you won’t have time to work out with me! Every weekend off, Mac, you, and I train together. You think your new boyfriend will let that slide? So it absolutely cannot work out! It’s no fun if it’s just me and Mac!”
“What nonsense. If you’re gonna jinx me, I’m hanging up.”
Noah laughed for ages, then came back in a bright voice.
“Then we’re watching a movie sometime too. With me, we’re going to the theater!”
“Got it. I’m hanging up.”
“Okay! I’ll text before practice tomorrow morning.”
“Sure. I’ll message if I can make it.”
If I make it out alive…
I hung up and sneaked a glance at Caesar radiating a chilly mood. It wasn’t my fault, and he wasn’t openly angry, but I still felt self-conscious.
“The call’s over…”
“…”
What was worse was that Caesar didn’t immediately speak or press me.
Just staring makes it scarier…
Knowing him, he’s trying not to act rashly. He’s probably thinking starting a conversation while angry and getting into a fight would be bad.
Then… we wait…
Like a convict awaiting sentence, I shut my mouth and sat still.
Caesar finally spoke after the movie changed scenes twice.
“Not someone you’re at that point with…”
“…”
“Is it all right if I ask who you were talking to?”
Something about his tired-sounding voice made my heart give a jolt.
I rushed out the answer I’d prepped for that exact question.
“He was my college junior back then, and now he’s a junior coworker. I’m his mentor, so I’m trying to keep things good.”
Caesar’s eyes flicked a few times, then his face settled into something small and wounded.
“Hn. You’re too popular. You draw far too many eyes.”
You, of all people—a celebrity—are saying that?
I barely furrowed my brow in disbelief before he quietly leaned in and rested his head on my shoulder.
“I’ll have to try harder. Next time, so you won’t have to make excuses.”
Look at him casually twisting the facts.
“Caesar, I never made excuses. And it’s not like we’ve even nailed down that we’re dating.”
I chose getting tangled up with you because I don’t want to die; that doesn’t mean I’m okay with everything we did being splashed all over the world.
I tapped his forehead lightly with my fingertips.
“You’re doing this on purpose to tease me, aren’t you?”
Caesar let out a soft sigh.
“I’m a person too. I know how to be jealous. I’m actually really dejected.”
“You’ve gotten awfully honest.”
“Like I said earlier, you told me to be. Hiding what you feel and making secrets to win favor only creates misunderstandings…”
Muttering his complaint, he rubbed his cheek against my shoulder. Why does it make me think of a cat rubbing its face to mark its favorite human?
“I’m doing what you said. I’m not trying to tease you…”
“Mm…”
“And it’s true we’re doing well, isn’t it? I thought you were getting more comfortable with me. Was that just my imagination?”
…You sly fox. I give up. I’m not the kind of guy who loses arguments easily, but with you I just can’t win.
If I say we’re not doing well and I’m not used to you at all, this relationship will crack.
I don’t want that. One way or another, Caesar is supposed to take care of my life for about a year.
What a mess.
I honestly had no idea how to react, so I let my eyes wander to bleed off the embarrassment.
Then Caesar, still leaning on my shoulder, went “Ah,” and started blinking fast.
Did something get in his eye? Well, that’s what you get for rubbing your face all over my shoulder…
I hesitated to help and watched. His brows pinched, just slightly. Then his neat mouth pulled into a brief, annoyed twist.
Does it hurt that much?
Right when I was starting to worry, calm returned to his face.
“Hn.”
He spoke in his usual, even tone.
“Come to think of it, there was linguine at home.”
“Ah. Yeah.”
“Should we do al limone tomorrow with the lemon we didn’t use?”
The word al limone alone conjured a bright lemon scent.
Ah, that time—it was so good…
And like I was being pulled under, the memory came.
After a chaotic day, I was totally wiped…
I got to catch my breath that evening thanks to Caesar’s kindness.
If I think about it, it was around then that I started getting those surges of I-might-cry feelings.
“Let’s add vegetable stock and lemon, and pile on a lot of arugula.”
My chest prickled the whole time he talked.
If I opened my mouth now, I wasn’t sure if a laugh or a sob would come out, so I had to take a breath first.
“Won’t that be a hassle? I can make breakfast tomorrow.”
Caesar’s voice warmed with a laugh.
“I want to come in and wake you with, ‘It’s ready, come eat.’ So I can see your sleeping face too.”
“It’s not a pretty face.”
“I bet it’s cute.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen a nap video after practice. You curl up like a little squirrel.”
He leaned in closer, putting his weight on my shoulder.
“The player who posted it said, ‘He’s a devil on the field, but asleep he’s basically a baby angel.’”
A devil?
No, wait… a baby what?
Who said that—whoever it was, I won’t let it slide if I catch them.
Maybe the disgust showed on my face, because Caesar glanced up and laughed. He doesn’t throw his mouth into a big grin, so it didn’t feel like a full laugh, but with that face, even that looked like a masterpiece.
He rested his cheek on my shoulder again.
“Al limone for the menu, then?”
“...Let me help, too.”
“I’ll allow you to spread jam on the toast we eat with it.”
He rubbed his head on my shoulder once and, as if regretful, slowly straightened.
Pointing at the digital wall clock, he said,
“It’s late. We barely watched the movie with all the talking, and it’s already 1 a.m.”
“Ah, then should we watch what we missed tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
Only then did Caesar pick up a taco—
Like he’d planned from the start to make my leftovers his portion.
…Right. Next time I should say we’ll share.
Guilt pricked.
I poured sparkling water into his glass as he started his late meal.
“Take the bed, Caesar. You’re taller.”
“You’re going to take the sofa?”
“Yeah. It’s plenty for me.”
“The tragedy of being tall. If I’d known, I would’ve grown a little less.”
He polished off a taco without dropping a crumb and wiped his mouth.
“Why don’t we just sleep together?”
Hmm. After getting treated, looked after, and all that, I don’t want to make things uncomfortable by insisting on separate beds.
“We’re not exactly a lie-side-by-side size.”
“Then just kick me to the sofa.”
“Even a vampire nailed in a coffin would sleep more comfortably than you on a sofa shorter than your height. How are you going to manage that?”
“I sleep very still. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
He studied my face, thinking something over.
“Mm… I think you feel guilty toward me right now. Do you?”
How did he know that. Freaky man.
“Is it because I’m not letting you do anything for me?”
“A little, yeah…?”
Even if you’re my fan, there’s no reason to act like a voluntary doormat. You’re a person like anyone else; being a fan doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice yourself.
“Do you feel some kind of obligation to me…?”
“Huh?”
“You’re trying to do everything, so I wondered if it was out of obligation.”
I tried to hide my embarrassment and broached it, and Caesar laughed.
“You were worrying that much about me? Then tomorrow, besides spreading jam, I’ll ask you to zest the lemon.”
“How long could that possibly take.”
“Out of tomorrow’s tasks, that’s the fussiest. Washing the lemon clean and making zest is a pain.”
The brazen comeback made me snort.
Thanks to his joke, my chest did feel lighter.
“...Fine. I’ll take the lemon zest too.”
“In exchange, we’re sleeping together.”
“I said okay.”
With that decided, Caesar finished the last taco, then went to shower and came out clean.
He came back wearing only pants and walked into the room, and I almost screamed—turns out he hadn’t brought pajamas from home.
In a pinch, I pulled a team jersey I’d washed and put away and made him wear it as pajamas.
Back when I weighed over 200 pounds (about 90 kg), it used to fit me; thankfully it more or less fit Caesar too.
He checked the big numbers front and back, and the rims of his ears flushed red. Guess he was happy—he used to like that player when he was active.
“You like it that much?”
“Yeah…”
“Then why don’t I just give it to you?”
“Huh?”
“You like it so much. It makes more sense for you to have it than me…”
Right after that, Caesar grabbed me and hugged me tight.
“Uh, hm?”
He lifted me and headed for the bed. A bad hunch made me struggle, but…
All he did was hold me close, radiating heat, and fall asleep. I guess the flight from China to the States did him in—his head hit the pillow and he was out.
Thought I was about to get jumped…
I stared at the guy glued to my side, sighed once, and tried to sleep.
Why is this day so long… Lying down, the fatigue hits hard…
Whether it was the warm weight at my side or just sheer exhaustion, sleep washed over me like I’d been dosed.
Just when it seemed the noisy day was finally winding down safely—at 4 a.m.
I woke from a nightmare.