I am exhausted and sore from three hours
at the gym and still I am here twisting
pieces of crepe paper into chicken wire
shaped into a giant football helmet
in Alex’s garage
everyone is here
even Angie
who is still avoiding any serious questions
and Mel
works next to me
giving me the third degree about the weekend

“Are you a couple or what? I can’t believe you
have a boyfriend. I’m totally impressed,” she says.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I have a…friend.
I don’t know what he is,” I say.

I am trying to outline the name of our team in white
on the side of the helmet
I am good at this
I wonder if there is a crepe outliner job I could have

“I’m dying to meet him. Especially since you’re
withholding a picture,” she pouts.

“I don’t have one,” I protest.

She snatches my cell phone from the floor,
flips it open and snaps a picture of me.

“Yeah, that was SO hard to do!”

“Oh, like I’m supposed to say, ‘Hey Ben.
be a dear and let me take your picture
so I can show all my friends back home.’
Humiliating.”

“Well, you don’t have to be obvious. Just
snap it when he’s not looking.”

“What, like a stalker? You’ll just have to wait Mel.
It’s only two weeks away.” I throw a piece of green
paper at her.
“Fine,” she sighs loudly. “If you want to
keep your boyfriend a secret, whatever.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I repeat.

“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” she says, rolling her eyes.

I can’t even fool myself anymore.