We sit back down, but I'm acutely aware of Adam's attention throughout the first half. Every time I glance in his direction, he's watching us, his expression growing increasingly agitated.
During halftime, Lena and I hit the concession stand. We're waiting in line when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Alder."
I turn to find Adam standing there, professional smile firmly in place, though his eyes are cold.
"Adam," I reply, equally cool. "Working the game?"
"Yes, as you’re clearly aware.” His gaze shifts to Lena. "Dr. Sinclair, right? I've heard so much about you."
"Wish I could say the same," Lena says sweetly. "But Brad never mentioned you. For obvious reasons."
Adam's smile tightens. "I should apologize for the... awkwardness."
"You mean when you were sucking face with my boyfriend on the jumbo screen?" Lena's voice remains pleasant, but there's steel beneath it. "No apology necessary. You did me a favor."
Adam blinks, clearly not expecting this response. "Well. Good, then." He turns his attention back to me. "Could we speak privately for a moment?"
"No," I say simply. "I'm here to watch soccer with my friend."
"Your friend." He glances between us, skepticism evident. "Does she know what it’s like to be in your orbit? With the media everywhere?"
I just glare at him as Adam's face flushes. "We'll leave you to your work," I tell him, placing a hand on Lena's back to guide her forward in the now-moving line.
"This isn't over, Alder," Adam says, low enough that only I can hear. "Call me when you're done playing games."
I don't respond; I just continue forward with Lena. Once we're out of earshot, she exhales dramatically.
"What a douche," she whispers. "I can't believe I was intimidated by the idea of him."
"You were intimidated?"
"A little," she admits. "He's so... polished."
"That's one word for it."
We order nachos and beer, then make our way back to our seats. I'm aware of people watching us. Phones occasionally raised to capture photos. Word has obviously spread about our presence.
"I can see why you fell for him,” Lena muses as we sit. “He's very pretty."
"Pretty empty," I mutter, then feel childish. "Sorry. That was petty."
"Hey, petty is what we're here for." She nudges me with her elbow.
I smile, grateful for her lightness. "Right."
The second half begins, and we settle back into watching the match. Adam remains on the sidelines, but I'm less concerned with his presence now. I'm more interested in Cara's footwork and Lena's running commentary, which grows increasingly insightful as the game progresses.
"You really did play, didn't you?" I ask after she correctly predicts a penalty call.
"Told you," she says with a grin. "Four years varsity, thick thighs and all.”
"Is there anything you're not good at?"
"Plenty," she laughs. "Relationships, for one."
"Same." I watch as the penalty kick sails into the net, putting Hot Metal up 2-0. "Maybe we should stick to sports."
