FAME│s.m

seven

That afternoon, we abandoned the park for his motel room hand in hand.

"I found a few board games in the nightstand beside my bed," he spoke, suggesting we play them. So that's where we were advancing and what we were going to do.

We were halfway through Monopoly when his phone went off. He groaned, stepping over to it.

"What?" he growled, moving to pace in the bathroom behind a closed door. I could still hear him though, thinking about how rude I was for eavesdropping.

"I already told you guys, I am stuck in God knows what with God knows who." Curiosity rose in me, my body lifting itself from the ground, my head pressing into the door. "No, I'm taking a bit of a vacation right now, Josh."

I furrowed my eyebrows, lifting my hands to the door to balance myself.

"I know the match is nearing, but I just need some relaxation, alright?"

I could hear his teammate shout, "Where are you though, Simon?"

I heard the click of his phone shutting off, and the door sprang open, my body falling with it.

"Sorry," I blush, standing back onto my feet.

"It's alright," he sighs, scratching his face then proceeding to run the same hand through his hair, letting it stop at the back of his head. "I'm so stressed right now," he mutters, moving both of his hands to his face now.

I swivel my body behind his, pushing him towards the bed.

"Uh, Amari, I don't really feel like-"

"It's not what you think, you dirty minded idiot," I giggle, pushing him to sit on the end of his bed. I crawl behind him, kneeling as I kneed my hands into his back.

"Oh my god, this is much better," he moans. I let out a laugh, Simon following soon after. "I didn't realize how bad that would sound out loud."

"Vent to me, Simon," I dictate.

"Oh, I don't need to-"

"I insist," I interrupt. He sighs, then goes into detail about his career and how stressing everything is. I just sat on my folded legs, nodding to whatever he said. I could already feel his muscles loosen.

"Sounds rough," I tease after he's finished. He turns to face me, interrupting my work.

"I really need you in my life," he chuckles.

"I know, my massages are to die for," I exaggerate, adding a sprinkle of a laugh.

"And you're the only one who actually listens to what I have to say," he explains, being genuine. "You make me feel important."

"Simon, you're a professional soccer player with loads of supporters- how do I make you feel important just because of a harsh back rub and an ear to talk off?" I interrogate, sliding to the end of his bed so I could sit next to him.

He looks down at his feet, not saying anything. I exhale deeply out of my nose, glancing around the room. "How about we finish our game?" I question as I pull him over to the piece of carpet our board was laid out on.

••after several rounds of board games••

"Are you even sure your dad would like me?" Simon nervously asks as he stands beside me outside my front door. I look up at him, shoot him a reassuring grin, then drag him into my house.

"Dad, someone will be joining us for dinner!" I shout, marching into the kitchen where my dad was stood in front of the stove, stirring a pan of simmering beef bits.

He looks away from his spatula, shocked to see the Simon Minter stood in our kitchen.

"It'd be a pleasure to have a professional soccer player-"

"Dad, let's just brush off that label for tonight," I interject after feeling Simon tense.

"Oh- o-of course! Nice to have you in our home, Simon," my dad greets, shaking his hand.

"Thank you for having me, sir," Simon politely replies with a small smile.

"Please, call me Sean," my dad argued. Simon nods, repeating his sentence and replacing the nouns.

"Shall I set the table?" I question, treading to the island that held the plates and utensils.

"Yes, that would be much appreciated, sweetie," my father replies.

"I'll help," Simon jumps in, following me to the table with three empty cups.

While we eat our dinner, which was tacos, my father suddenly coughed, swallowing the remainder of his food before speaking.

"Your car is almost finished," he informs Simon.

"Oh, sick. Thank you," he replies, and only I could tell how ingenuine his response was.

••after dinner••

We were allowed to hang out in my room for awhile, but the door had to remain open.

I showed Simon almost everything in my room after he asked for a backstory behind every little object or detail in my room. Our last stop was my bay window.

"Any significance with this?" he questions as he sits. He pats the spot beside him, and I fulfill his request.

"It's my favorite spot in the whole entire world," I explain, "even though I haven't gone anywhere else, it's still the best place to be," I add.

"My mom used to sit here, and watch the clouds pass from dawn to dusk," I continue. I shift in my seat, pointing out of the window. "That sky is the same one she stared at 24/7."

"Is this where she passed away?" he asks.

I knew it would scare him if I told him the truth, and probably disturb him, so I told him that she must've gotten up from her spot here as she felt her last moments nearing; that we found her in the bathroom nearest this bedroom.

"So, this wasn't your bedroom before?" he questions. I shake my head, gazing out of the window as I pressed my back against the wall, my head turned 90 degrees to watch the colors fade into black throughout the sky.

"No, no," I softly reply. "I always slept with my dad- my mom begged for the arrangement as she wanted to be left alone at night to wander amongst her own thoughts."

"And you moved in here after she passed to be closer to her?"

I turn to him with a smile and watering eyes. "Exactly," I reply, my voice low and broken.

He opens his arms, which I fall into. He pets my hair as my head lays on his chest, listening to his gentle heartbeat. A few tears slip onto his shirt, and I'm assuming he felt them as he would pull me closer into his body with each drop.

Soon I fell asleep in his embrace, his presence comforting me so much to the point of enjoying a peaceful rest.