Page 3 of Jace
I blink at her mutely. Yeah, of course I use social media. You kind of have to if you want to hit off your music career. But I handed the managing of it over to our bassist, Ava, who’s a genius with everything social media related. I just haven't really paid much attention after that, too busy with everything else.
I grab my phone, but before I can open Instagram and figure out why the hell I’ve been missing these notifications, my hookup pops up in front of me–fully dressed this time–and smiles at me.
“Missy is right, you are a trending topic right now. Didn’t you know that? Thank you for last night.” She kisses me swiftly on my cheek, pulls her shoes out of Missy’s hands and slams the door behind her when she leaves, never even giving me a chance to reply.
Well, that’s that I guess. But trending? I take a peek in the app and am stunned to find that I’ve gotten a fuck ton of tags, followers and messages. “Well, this is just weird. How does everybody know who I am this quickly?”
Missy sighs, irritated at me for what feels like the dozenth time today. And my day just started. “Ever heard of the power of social media? This isn’t a new band you're singing in, we’re not newbies. You also don’t seem to realize exactly how good Ava is with marketing. But come on, we have to go. Don’t look at that crap.” She takes my phone and drops it in her way too big of a purse.
“Hey, I need that!” I protest but she ignores me, messing around in her enormous big bag.
She pulls another black and orange jersey out and throws it at me. “Put that on.”
I comply with a lot of grumbling and take a look at the back before throwing it on over my white tee and grabbing my keys and wallet. “Which player is number twelve? Is his name really King? Is he hot?”
If looks could kill, I would spontaneously combust right there. “You really need to look at that wonderful thing called the internet and get up to speed. But not right now, because we’relatethanks to you. The game starts in thirty minutes.” She pulls me along with way more strength than I thought possible and I follow obediently.
A ten minute walk later, we arrive at the stadium to watch the game. My very first football game to be exact. American football that is. I’ve never watched this stupid sport before. It isn’t a big thing back in the Netherlands, so I didn’t come across it very often.
But here? Everywhere I seem to go there’s football on tv or there are students wandering around wearing orange and black jerseys when there isn’t even a game. I’ve been here for the entire summer and it was one of the first things I noticed. The football-love. But the game looks just weird to me. Probably because of the ball that isn’t even a ball, in my opinion they’re supposed to be round. If balls aren’t round, I don’t like them.
Yes. Give me perfectly round balls anytime and I’m a happy man. Pun intended.
“There you two are. Hurry up, we’re late.” Ava–our bassist–stomps our way in front of the entrance, barging her way through some last stragglers who also wear the team colors. “I’ve been waiting forever. What was the holdup?”
Missy throws a look my way and gives Ava a short hug before we follow her into the busy stadium. “He had to get rid of the trash.”
“The trash?” Ava frowns to me over her shoulder where I dutifully follow her, her pink hair clashing horribly with theblack and orange of the shirt. “Don’t you guys have that container thingy in the hallway for trash?”
Missy huffs. “Well that’s not the kind of trash that I’m talking about.”
Ava shakes her head. “Really? Again? Didn’t you say last week that you wouldn’t hook up anymore?”
Missy snickers quietly beside me, and I elbow her before replying to Ava.
“Yes, I know but–”
“But you just couldn’t help yourself?” Ava interrupts. “I get that flirting is your way of communicating, but honey, can’t you start a conversation with people without them ending up practicing their kegels on your stick?”
“You know it doesn’t work that way with guys right? I don’t think you can kegel your ass,” I state with a grin, which rewards me a glare from my pink haired friend.
“So annoying,” Missy mutters, but I ignore her.
“At least you confirm the rumors about you,” Ava states, worming her way through some guys who painted their entire faces orange and are singing along to the music that’s blaring through the stadium speakers.
“Which rumors?” I ask loudly, feeling dumb for not noticing this before. I follow her up some steps to our seats and am glad that we’re apparently not all the way to the top. The stadium is huge, way bigger than what I expected from college football. But hey, in America everything’s bigger right? I thought that it wouldn’t be this crowded, this being a practice game and all, but the stadium is packed with students that all returned to campus for the fall semester that starts come Monday.
“That you’re a gigantic flirt and like to fool around.” She shakes her head and pushes past the last people in our way before plopping down. I sit beside her, and find myself sandwiched between the two striking women who I consider myclose friends. I throw my arms around their slim shoulders and sigh.
Not showing the girls that I’m bothered by what apparently is the campus population’s opinion about me–because while I might be trying to change, it’s not entirely false–I fake a grin and push my hips up. “Do they at least say that I’ve got a gigantic dick as well?”
Missy groans, rummaging through her oversized bag. “Why on earth do I like you?” she mutters.
“Because I can belt out a killer tune? Have impeccable bone structure? Flash a charming smile?” I offer her said smile, and she sighs, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear.
“I'm immune to your charms, you know. After seeing a boy shit on your grandmother's lawn, he loses some appeal,” she declares way too loud, and Ava bursts into laughter on the other side of me.
“Come on, don’t be mean. I was only four.”
