Page 61 of Love and Other Goals

Mateo nods. “Yep—in fact, Townsend has a team. There’s a guy named Parker in one of my classes who’s on it. He told me a little bit about it at the beginning of the semester.” He turns back to Dean. “Of course, there are specific games that they focus on, but I recognize some of the ones you said you like.”

Dean leans in with more expression on his face than I’ve seen in a long time. “How do you get on a team?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’m sure it varies from college to college,” Mateo says. “Obviously you have to be skilled at the games themselves, but Parker talks a lot about teamwork and communication skills. He said he learned to play chess and other games that increased his strategy and pattern analysis skills. So, those would be some practical steps to take.”

I can see the wheels turning in Dean’s head and a spark in his eyes, sparking hope for him in my heart as well.

Mateo says, “I’d be happy to ask Parker if he’d be willing to connect with you and give you a little inside scoop on the process.”

“Yes!” Dean says, with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He seems to remember himself and tones it down a bit before adding, “I mean, if he’s okay with it, that would be cool.”

Mateo moves on to ask my dad when Nutcracker performances begin, seeming to intuitively sense that less is more with Dean right now. The oven timer beeps, and I look over to see tears in my mom’s eyes as she reaches in to pull out the egg casserole.

Conversation over breakfast flows easily. Mateo gives Olivia her time in the spotlight, asking about high school and how homecoming went. Carter is thoughtful and asks Mateo about his family, and even Dean is acting like a fairly approachable human being instead of the prickly version of himself he’s been the past couple of years. I reach over to hold Mateo’s hand under the table after I’m done eating, smiling to myself as I listen to him engage with my whole family.

All the food is prepped to go in the oven at the appropriate times, so my mom sets timers on her phone to remind her when to rotate in each item. With a lull in preparations, we head to the living room with refilled coffee mugs to sit and chat. Mateo takes the love seat, and I sit down next to him, tucking my feet up under me. He places a hand on my knee, and I loop my arm through his with my hand resting on his firm bicep. I’m officially good to go for the afternoon—no need to move for the rest of the day.

Dean requests permission to go to his room to play video games, and my parents agree more readily than they usually do. When Dean asks Carter to play with him, Carter suggests a compromise. “How about we play a game of chess first?” Dean agrees, and I think angels might be singing.

The twins run upstairs, and my mom says to Mateo, “Thank you so much for talking to Dean like that. I sure didn’t know anything about these video game teams. But that’s the most I’ve seen him converse with another person in a long time.”

She’s getting misty-eyed again, but Mateo brushes off the compliment. “It was nothing, no reason to thank me. Most teenage boys don’t really want to talk to their parents all that much,” he says with a smile.

My mom takes that as a runway to ask more questions about Mateo’s family. “Did your family have any Thanksgiving traditions when you were growing up?”

“My mom is all about any reason to share a big meal with loved ones,” Mateo replies with a warm grin. “We didn’t have any extended family close, but our home was an open door on Thanksgiving to anyone looking for a place to belong. We always had a mash-up of traditional American Thanksgiving side dishes and warm Guatemalan foods like pepián or hilachas with rice. Trust me, no one ever left our house hungry at the end of the day.”

I’m once again struck by the affection in Mateo’s face and voice as he talks about his family. I really hope I get to meet them soon.

There’s a natural pause in conversation between topics, and Mateo tips his head toward the piano in the corner and says to my dad, “So, Lana told me that you two used to play duets together. Have you played any in a while?”

Olivia rolls her eyes, “Only all summer long while Lana was home. It’s all we ever listened to in the evenings.”

I aim a throw pillow at her head and hit my target perfectly, earning a classic “La-nuuuh!” whine from her. My mom half-heartedly scolds me while trying not to laugh.

Mateo moves his arm behind my shoulders and angles toward me. “I’d love to hear you and your dad play together if you wouldn’t mind.”

Heat immediately floods my cheeks, and Mateo gives me that wildly attractive smirk reserved for when he makes me blush, which doesn’t help me not blush. “Oh, I don’t know,” I stammer. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any practice.”

“Whatever, liar,” Olivia rats me out. “You and dad just played again when you were here over homecoming weekend.”

The daggers from my eyes aren’t working because Olivia just looks at me smugly.

My dad jumps in to further block my way out. “Sure, we can play. Lana, why don’t we do the piece we played a lot over the summer? Surely your muscle memory can get you through that one.”

“Oh yeah, ‘A Thousand Years’,” Olivia pipes in again.

“Wait,” Mateo interjects, “‘A Thousand Years’? Like, the song from Twilight?”

I give him an incredulous look. “Do not tell me you were a Twilight fan.”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “I was not, but my older sister was. She went through a massive Twilight phase in high school and subjected my entire family to way more Edward and Bella than any of us ever asked for.”

I smile at his response, but my heart is out the starting gate of the Kentucky Derby. I did not mentally prepare myself to play the piano in front of Mateo today, and I particularly did not mentally prepare to play that song for Mateo.

The song I poured my heart into all summer long thinking about Aaron. Letting all my angst about how long I had liked him and the uncertainty about what would happen with him flow out through my fingertips in the emotion of the music.

Mom is giving me an empathetic look that communicates she knows exactly what’s racing through my head right now. She gives a small nod and says, “Come on, Lana. I’d love to hear you play also. It will be good for you,” she adds as her eyes flit to Mateo.

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