The walk to the stadium was magical. Of course, I'm not talking about fairy tale magic, which would probably mean that flowers would bewitchingly sprout from the spots we step on or say, a trail of pixie dust would be seen trailing after us. Nope. I'm high in love—not high on drugs. The magic I mean is less definite than fairy tale magic, but the effect of which is just as high. It's just as magical. Just as potent.
Just like when I was younger, when I so strongly believed that Hogwarts was real and just like the students there, I was a wizard, I also believe that this feeling—this strong feeling of love inside of me—is genuine. Just like all the romantic relationships out there, it's happening because we see a future with each other; we see a future in us. In other words, this could last. It will last. I hope it will. And just like my childhood conviction that propelled me to memorize all the enchantments that Harry, Ron and Hermione said, my current creed about this love has somehow changed me. In a way.
What made the whole two or three-minute walk from the bus to the entrance was the fact that it seemed impossible—just like the kind of magic in fairy tales. It was magical because I never thought that none of this—the showing up late and the holding hands without a care in the world—was possible. More so, I didn't think I'd be able to keep my cool with all the probable consequences of what we just did. We could get into real trouble if Erika liked Red, which is highly likely. Like any other girl, she would be jealous and would probably do anything to keep me out the way. I don't think she's that evil to be capable of finding ways to make me fail at this program even if it's non-credit. She could reprimand us in front of everyone for coming back five hours later than expected.
With these in mind, I don't know how I'm not thinking of a contingency plan. A good-enough defense. A reasonable explanation. Anything. Instead, here I am, smiling and unusually very positive. In moments like this, the real Lizzie would be in hysterics. She would be debating about walking in the stadium with Red; "To go alone or to go together?" she would be fussing about to herself. She would have pulled her hand from this handsome stranger's, apologized, and walked away. She is, after all, mindful of what people might say about them. She would have talked him into keeping his distance as soon as they entered so that no one was going to ask questions about what happened. So that no one would get suspicious. She'd convince him to walk in and act as though nothing happened.
The old Lizzie would have done all this. The real, normal, and old me would be doing this, but no. With my head held high, I walk with Red, my hand in his, fueled by all the happy thoughts playing in my very imaginative head—from his prospective proposal somewhere in the Sahara Desert, our future wedding held at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, to the beautiful, healthy triplets we'd be having.
We took our time as though we had all the hours and minutes and seconds in the world to watch the game even when running late was our biggest concern earlier. My left hand was in his right, and neither of us were trying to hide it—not from the other students, not from Erika, or even the rather intimidating man in black by the entryway. We were walking like a real couple, the way Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber did when they were together—proud of the right amount of our public display of affection. In fact, with the way we're acting, we look as though we've spent the last five years by each other's side when in reality, we've only known each other for five hours. What we're doing is reckless, dauntless, and downright bad-ass.
But it doesn't matter now, does it? Tonight is the last night of the program and after this, we'd all go our separate ways. I wont' be reporting for classes nor will Red report for his job as a program proctor. There's nothing to be scared of. There's nothing to be nervous about. All is well. It's all alright.
I'm sure this was the exact same thought going on in Red's mind because in the first place, if not for him, I wouldn't be even thinking like this. I wouldn't be as bold and brash as I am now about our holding hands or our showing up late. I wouldn't be all calm and Gandhi about this. So yes, with his head held high and the confident strides he's making, I'm sure he has no worry about how people would say about us either. We were both in sync. CARPE DIEM.
In silence—that is, silence between us two since the noise was just so loud from the inside—we walked all the way to the counter and stopped to present our tickets. Red handed them to the intimidating gatekeeper, who took half of the glossy tickets and stamped our halves with approval before handing them back to us.
"Thanks," Red and I say. We were getting good at this—the mind reading, that is. I can't wait till we get to the point where we finish each other's sentence. Exciting.
"Game's about to end, son," Mr. Intimidating Gatekeeper said to us, or rather, to Red. "The way things look, it's a sure win for the Red Sox."
"We don't know that yet, Charles," Red replied while writing our names on the attendance sheet. "The odds might favor the Rangers from here on out and they might just catch up and beat the Red Sox. Let's be a little sympathetic to our opposition today, shall we? It's a beautiful Friday night. There's nothing to worry or fuss about. We can let the game drag for as long as the players can stay play."
"Ain't gonna argue with you, son," Mr. Intimidating Gatekeeper, or rather, Charles, said with a smile. "We both know you're gonna beat me in the debating department just like how we both know that it's a sure win for those damn Sox. The Rangers are just no match for our champs."
"Alright, Charles," Red answers, slowly walking and leading the way in. "You win—the Red Sox wins—alright."
"That's right, kid," Charles replies. "Damn right you are."
Red and I laugh at Charles' remark and the tone that went with it. 'Funny' never even crossed my mind when I first saw him with his six-foot-tall frame and bulging muscles. But here he is proving my first impressions wrong; he might even be a close friend of Red.
"Nice meeting you, Charles," I say as soon as we got moving.
"You must be someone special," Charles replied in a low voice—a whisper, if you will.
I wanted to ask him why but I also wanted to just focus on what was waiting for me out there. After everything we've been through—after everything I've been through—tonight, we're now officially here, in Fenway. We're now about to watch the game and cheer for the Red Sox and do the wave once Sweet Caroline plays. I wanted to spend the rest of my energy on that. I wanted to just immerse myself in this game watching and Red Sox cheering and song-waving, so instead of inquiring further as to what he meant, I just smiled back at him, turned around, and kept up with Red's fast and excitement-driven steps.
We walked past the gift shops selling overpriced Red Sox merchandise (yes, I've been warned not to buy anything from here), the popcorn stand, and a couple other food stalls. I oohed and wowed over a few things. A heavily tattooed man carrying a toddler dressed in a pink jumpsuit. The packed stadium despite its already being 11PM. A couple who could use some privacy and get a room at the nearest motel. And when I saw a plump woman in her mid-thirty's with full hair and make-up in her Red Sox shirt, cap, and matching velvet purse, I just had to smile at her and say wow—aloud, this time. Red, in good taste, said she could replace the team mascot; But in my mind, I wish I could have her level of confidence and passion for the Red Sox for my own interests—my YouTube channel, Broadway and Hollywood, or even him, Red.
"Stay close," Red said as soon as we started walking up the steps. "We're at the seventh row—7E and F." I nod my head, tighten my hold of his hand, and follow him. When we reached the seventh row, he stepped aside and let me go first.
"Sorry, excuse me," I kept mumbling while worming my way to my seat; I'm pretty sure those who were seated were pretty annoyed by Red and me, but I just kept smiling. "I'm so sorry. I hope my smile, which a lot of people think is cute, appeases you all," I thought. Amidst my awkward hunching and forced smiling while I squeezed my way through people' legs, I also thought, "At least, I'm not alone. I'm with Red." When I finally reached my seat, I turned around to see where he was. I thought he was following me, but he was just standing by the aisle.
I raise my brows to ask him what was up.
"I'll be back," he mouthed with gestures.
As much as I want him to be beside me when the song plays or when something equally fun happens, I nod my head in response. I'm sure he has to do something really important. And with that, he went all the way down and disappeared among the mass of people walking out and about.
I take a seat and put my things on Red's. From where I am, the players are the size of chess pieces, and just like chess, a bit confusing. I have no idea what's going on right now. I was still trying to figure out what was happening when I heard someone call my name.
"Lizzie," someone called from a nearby seat. "Over here!"
"Hey!" I call back as soon as I spot her from the fifth row, two seats to my left. Beside her was her seatmate at the bus, the girl whom Red had to sort of reprimand. I hope she didn't feel offended by that.
"Where have you been?" she asked. I move one seat to my left, which is supposed to be Red's, so I would not have to raise my voice just so she could hear me. It's a good thing that the person on 7G is preoccupied with her phone and her earphones and that the row before us wasn't occupied—at least, for now.
"Oh, I went out for dinner, that's why," I reply. "I wasn't able to eat back at Annenberg so I decided to go out."
"And you just arrived?" she asked with unusual interest.
"Yes," I reply with a nervous laugh. "Like ten minutes ago. I had a small chat with the guy by the entrance so it took me while to get back here ASAP. I also looked around before heading here so yeah." I sure hope she wouldn't dig any deeper.
"Well, where did you go and with whom?"
"Blaze Pizza," I say. "It's just a few blocks from here so Erika and the other proctors didn't mind. So I went. You know what? I'll tell you everything after the game. For now, can you tell me what's happening now? Or what happened while I wasn't here? Because I honestly have no idea."
"Oh," she says. "We're winning. That's for sure."
"Actually," the girl beside here chimes in. "We just won."
"Oh my gosh!" I scream. "Is that when Sweet Caroline plays?"
"No, silly," Kat says. "It played earlier already, in the middle of the eighth inning. You probably weren't here yet then."
"Right," I reply. I don't know if she even caught what I said because by the time I said it, the announcer's voice blazed through the speakers, which confirmed the victory of the Red Sox. Then, just as he announced the results, the phrase RED SOX WIN appeared on the giant screen, in big bold letters.
Everyone takes out their phones and starts snapping away. I, myself, wanted to take a photo, but then Kat asks me to take a photo of her and her buddy against the background of the big screen,
"Sure," I say. I took several photos of them, which was followed by another set of photo-taking for another couple I didn't even know.
"No worries," I replied when they thanked me.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer continued. "Don't shift your focus from the big screen yet because we've got some awesome surprise for you all before you all head home tonight."
"Wait," I thought. I wasn't able to take a photo with it yet. I rummaged through my bag for my phone to no avail, and completely shut out whatever the speaker was announcing. In my mind, I have to find my phone to capture this moment. But I couldn't.
Then, just right on time, Red arrived, which lessens my negativity. This, I knew, because when he suddenly put a cap on my head, I just smiled. I dropped my bag and gave up looking for my phone. I look at Red and then back to the screen after processing what the speaker said. I wanted to see what was going to happen. The screen was now blank, which was weird. But it didn't matter that I missed whatever the surprise was. I'm just glad that Red was back, and what's more, that he got me a white cap with the logo of the Red Sox in red. He also got himself a similar Red Sox cap, which was in navy blue.
"Thanks," I tell him with a wider smile. "How much do I owe you?"
"Consider it my present," he replied. "Happy birthday."
"What!?" I almost shout. "How did you know that!?"
At this point, everyone was screaming around us that I didn't hear what he said. I wanted to shush everyone because I wanted to talk to Red right now and the noise wouldn't let me. I look around and notice that everyone's eyes were on us. I saw Erika from behind Red looking at our direction. A few familiar pre-college classmates were also looking at our way. Even strangers were looking at us.
Red stepped closer to tell me something—I think—when I felt a slight nudge from behind me. It was Katrina. When I gave her a questioning look, her response almost gave me a heart attack.
"Kiss him!" she screamed. "You're on Kiss Cam, Lizzie."
"DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" random people were yelling.
I look at the giant screen and sure enough, Red and I were on camera. It sure did say KISS CAM, and we were even juxtaposed inside a heart of roses. My heart started pumping faster again. Then, I look at Red. He looked like he was trying to tell people that he's not supposed to because he's a proctor and I'm a student. I think he was even nervous, which was quite unusual of him.
"KISS HER!" Kat shouted.
"COME ON, MAN," someone else added to the belfry.
"Couple with the matching caps, we're not moving until you do it," the announcer calls out. "A smack will do. It's tradition."
Right, I thought. I usually don't give in to peer pressure, but I'm not doing this because of pressure at all. I take two steps closer towards him and wait until he looks at my direction. "Please don't leave me hanging," I thought. When he looked into my eyes, everything and everyone around us just sort of disappeared. I could still hear the screams and cheers, but they didn't matter.
"It's okay," I say softly.
He smiled. Then just like that, he went for it. With one hand on my waist and the other on my cheek, he leaned forward and kissed me. The moment our lips touched, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind about what happened before and what might happen after this. I dedicated myself on this one moment, this one instant, when his lips were on mine, kissing.
My hands were all over his hair, moving back and forth for every sensation I felt. It was like nothing I've ever experienced. It was transcendental. Euphoric.
For what could have been the best fifteen seconds of my life, my heart was beating like crazy. When I pulled away, his hand found its way on my neck and pulled me back. But we no longer kissed. Our foreheads rested on each other's while the rest of the crowd cheered hooray.
With my eyes still closed, I smile. This wasn't exactly how I imagined my first kiss would be, but I feel grateful nonetheless. "I love you," I wanted to say, but I didn't want to break the silence between us. And so I remained silent and kept this thought to my head.
I don't want to drop the bomb on him and scare him away, so I open my eyes instead, hoping that through my eyes, he'd see how much he meant to me and how big of a role he played in my life not just for tonight, but for the rest of it—that's for certain.
When I looked at him, he embodied every aspect of peace. He looked calm and serene and innocent. And most importantly, even when he didn't say it out loud, I could tell that he felt the same way. I am loved.