Page 51 of Love on the Waiver Wire

The thought makes me want to vomit, but I’m not going to say that.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want a million women messaging me.”

“Well then it’ll just be funny.”

He groans, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Where can I go to do this?”

I point to an empty white wall across the room. I already prepared for this, even getting out my super old guitar so it looks generic enough that Leo won’t question it.

Owen sits on the floor, his legs crossed as he strums the chords a couple of times again, messing up a few before getting the hang of it once more.

I prop his phone up, hitting the record button.

And he does it. He sings the song.

He closes his eyes in the beginning, focusing a little too hard on what his fingers are doing instead of just feeling it. But after the first verse he opens them, his eyes piercing mine as he smiles.

I can’t help but smile back.

I stop him halfway through, telling him he’s good. I end the video, handing his phone back to him. “Now you just have to post that to youtube,” I tell him.

“And then I’ll be done for this week?”

I nod.

* * *

Owen and I curl up on my couch watching the comments roll in on his latest youtube video. Turns out, he used to post some cooking videos, but stopped about a year ago. He says it was for no reason in particular, but I feel like there was a reason.

He got a lot of hate for it. The better you get at football, the more hate you get. From opposing teams, from your own team. Everyone feels entitled to tell you their opinion of your playing, whether you’re doing well or not.

Being on the internet can suck for athletes, and posting content that isn’t football related is just welcoming rude comments.

But we’re here, snug against each other on my couch, watching all the positive comments roll in.

If he was horrible, I would have told him to forget it. I wouldn’t have done that to him. But he was actually pretty good, and four-hundred people already think the same.

“That was fun,” I tell him, yawning. “You know, that band is my roman empire I think.”

“Roman empire?” he asks, confusion clouding his eyes.

“Yeah. Like, something you can’t stop thinking about. Like, how many times do you think about the roman empire?”

He thinks for a second. “Like never.”

I nod. “Well apparently most men think about it daily. But I’m pretty sure most men are also liars. So thank you for the honestly, sir.” He smirks, and I keep going. “I just mean that I think about that band constantly.”

“Why are you constantly thinking about Oasis?”

I’m shocked. “Why wouldn’t you think about Oasis all the time? Don’t you know what happened to them?”

“No?”

“Exactly. No one knows what happened to them. They split up after some argument in the late 2000s. The brothers hated each other.”

“Why would you be in a band if you hate the other person.”

“I have no idea. But the Gallagher brothers are genuinely my Roman empire. Liam, the singer, and his brother Noel who played guitar for the band had been feuding for years. At their last concert, I think it was in Paris? I’m not sure, don’t quote me on that, they got into a massive fight and they broke up.”

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