The morning had started out a God damn mess and it only got worse after breakfast.

The thing about football games in Britain? It didn't matter what time kick-off was. There was pub time before kick-off time and one of them was more important to not be tardy to. And, considering that the football game they were attending later was, in fact, a bachelor party, it was even more important that they arrive to the pub in a timely fashion so they could get proper pissed as per the groom's request.

Yes, even Maverick.

Everleigh had been ordered to arrange a cab for the four of them because "I've never seen Kingston Maverick drunk and I bet he's giggly and I want to see it, Leigh! Make it so." and that seemed a fair enough reason to her.

The problem they were having was that Maverick had misplaced his hearing aids despite having put them in the same spot at night since he moved into the flat. Everleigh loved that he was trying out life within their home without his hearing aids to see if he could shake off some of the fright that came with his birthday diagnosis. But from that came a little more dropping it wherever he was and at that present time, they both stood in the living room wearing stupidly matching t-shirts saying groom crew across the chest staring at their carnage that had scattered itself across the flat. (The t-shirts weren't the biggest problem, but they were the dumbest.) (Roman had really wanted shirts so Everleigh paid someone to design a football-esque design for the chest, and put the last two numbers of their birth years on the back, last names to tie it together.) (It was that, or Roman was getting buy me a shot, I'm tying the knot and Everleigh was calling it a day.)

"It's fine if we're late but it's not fine if I can't hear anything."

Everleigh didn't mean to mutter, "It's not fine if we're late," but it slipped out anyway.

Maverick stared at her from across the room, ankle deep in couch pillows and throw cushions.

Everleigh stared back at him, practically unaware her mouth had moved.

Maverick waved his hands at her wildly, pointing to his ears like she was truly the stupidest person he knew. He didn't need to sign anything to her to say hey dumbass, remember those hearing aids we're looking for? I don't know what you're saying.

A closed fist made circles on her chest: Sorry. A few quick signs repeated her muttering to Maverick.

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "If I just don't go—"

You're going.

"I don't want to have to sit there while you translate your dad, Everleigh."

He knows the alphabet. Everleigh signed, still searching drawers in the kitchen with her eyes. Couple more common phrases.

"He does?"

Roman taught him.

"How does Roman know?"

Everleigh pointed at Maverick before bending down to recheck drawers she'd already looked in. That was always the most frustrating thing about losing something: retracing steps they'd already retraced. Walking in circles and hoping for a different outcome. Poster children for Einstein's theory of insanity.

"Must really think you like me if they're willing to go through all that."

Everleigh simply raised her hand above the height of the island and stuck her middle finger up at him.

"Oh, Jesus shit." A couple footsteps. Dewey followed. Blissfully unaware of the chaos around him. "I know where they are."

Everleigh went to stand up and promptly whacked her head on a drawer above her she had forgotten to close. She swore softly under her breath.

Maverick walked to their bedroom—also torn to shreds. Bedsheets, pillows, and clothes thrown everywhere. Everleigh slowly followed, rubbing the back of her head and keeping her eyes down to keep from tripping across their wreckage. To her surprise, Maverick had picked up one of his Converse from the floor and dumped it into his hand. Even more surprising was the small black box that tumbled out into his palm. He quickly opened it and placed his hearing aids in his ears; the sharp squeak of him turning them on was loud enough for Everleigh to hear it from the doorway.

"Why the hell were they in your shoe—"

Maverick looked guilty. "I didn't want to forget them."

A knock at the door.

"I'll get it."

"Everleigh?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you holding your head?"

Everleigh dropped her hand even though the thumping in her skull hadn't gone away. "No reason. Glad you found them. Please put your shoes on, that'll be Mum and Pa."

"What if I just don't go?" Maverick tried again. "This seems like a family thing, and I don't know anything about soccer."

"It's a bachelor party which is, quite literally, the opposite of a family thing," Everleigh said. "And it's football. Not soccer."

"It's soccer."

"You play it with your feet. Pa hears you call it soccer, he's never going to let you forget it," Everleigh said. "Roman said it once when he first came to England and hasn't lived it down since. I'm still shocked he even wanted to go to a football game."

"How long has he lived here?"

"Considering he came here when he was going to university?" Everleigh did the quick math. Roman was a couple years younger than Florence, which put him at around... "Sixteen years. Give or take."

Maverick looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. "Football it is."

"Pa will be so proud."

Walking to the front door and attempting to rub the spot again, Everleigh opened it with the best smile—more likely grimace—she could manage. "Hiya. In before the dog gets out, please."

They obliged, which was nice, Everleigh got the door closed before Dewey could bolt and she'd have to chase him down the hall and hope he didn't beat her to the escalator. (She was pretty sure their neighbour sat at the peephole watching them chase Dewey down the hallway as a form of free biweekly entertainment.)

"Everleigh Jane," Dawn said, "this place is a mess."

"Yeah," Everleigh said, looking around. It was a wonder how two people had managed to tear the place apart in less than an hour. "Tell me about it."

"And Dewey's not even got his harness on," Dawn said.

Didn't matter, Troy had already scooped Dewey up in his arms. He was going to the football and Dawn was taking Dewey for the afternoon, but Troy and him were best friends. Bonded over their love of cheeseburgers despite Everleigh telling them both they shouldn't eat as many as they did. Cheeseburgers were not inherently bad, but Troy had doctors telling him the same thing and Dewey was lactose intolerant. Couple of divas.

Troy was too busy getting dog hair on his Meadowlark 64 shirt any way, Everleigh never should've picked black shirts with a light-coloured dog that shed like nobody's fucking business.

"Sorry," Maverick said, stumbling out of Everleigh's room. "That was my fault. Couldn't find my hearing aids." He walked over and gave Dawn a hug. Kiss ass. "Hi, Dawn."

"Oh, Kingston," Dawn said. "That's fine, then. Do you two want help cleaning the flat?"

"It's fine, mum," Everleigh said. "Leave it alone."

"It's okay to ask for help," Troy said. While making kissing faces at Dewey.

"We'll clean it up after the game," Everleigh said. "It's fine."

"You're about to be piss drunk and you think you're going to clean the flat?" Troy asked.

A valid point, but he didn't get to know that. "Maybe I'm not drinking today."

Troy raised an eyebrow at her. "Last time you went a football game sober, you fell asleep on Roman's shoulder."

"How do you fall asleep in a stadium?" Maverick asked.

Everleigh crossed her arms. "Because football is fucking boring."

"She was also blatted," Troy said. "Passed out."

"Soccer's not boring, don't be a grump."

Everleigh's eyes widened, Maverick met her gaze with a similar look. The Canadian hopped out a little too much. Rest in peace.

Troy smirked. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

*

If Troy thought that Maverick saying soccer was the best thing he could make fun of that day, he was solely mistaken. The top contender was the fact that Maverick stopped to pee every time they reached a pub, while they were waiting for drinks at the pub, and right before they left every pub. And he had the audacity to tell Everleigh she was a lightweight at the airport before the Escape Velocity party—his damn bladder was a lightweight.

"Is he okay?" Roman asked. "Seriously, he doesn't have to drink at the game."

"You're the one who wanted him drinking and made me get a cab."

Roman knit his eyebrows together. Genuinely concerned.

Everleigh waved her hand at him. "He's fine. Probably a little nervous."

"Why would he be nervous?" Troy asked. "We love him."

"Maybe because you've been bothering him about saying soccer—"

"Only because we love him."

"And it was a rookie mistake," Roman said. Pressing his fist to his lips and belching. Everleigh made a face at him. "What? I'm a dad now. Burp whenever I want."

Troy snickered into the last of his pint. "You're drunker than you're letting on, aren't you, son?"

"Absolutely." He pressed his fist to his chest; covering the groom crew briefly. Held two fingers up for relatively no reason before flipping them over. "Peace up, A-town."

Everleigh snorted. "Oh my God."

"You're one to talk," Roman said, "you've got rosy cheeks. We'll be lucky if they let us in with you advertising it."

Everleigh pointed a finger at him, a little wobbly. "Watch it, or you're paying for this round."

"You wouldn't dare."

"She probably would."

"Try me."

Roman narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Rosy cheeks away." He giggled. "Rosy cheeks."

There were two kinds of drunks in the world.

One. The one that Troy was. Calm, collected. Because he could hold his liquor and being in his late fifties, knew what he could handle and likely wouldn't go past that point. Maverick was similar, though he was a little more giggly about it. And he had a couple more bathroom breaks. Which was fine if they weren't nosey like Roman.

Two. The one that Roman and Everleigh were. Argumentative before being best friends the moment after. A little too competitive and would do a shot competition after their six pub visits. Probably already would've if her father hadn't been there. A little too sloppy in a not-so-cute kind of way but it almost worked for them. Well. It would work until they wrestled each other to the ground at home after the game and woke up with too many bruises and a hangover nursed with Lucozade that was picked up by the loser of a miserably pathetic rock, paper, scissors game.

"Crikey, you two."

Everleigh pushed herself up from her seat. "Kingston should be out any moment, I'll get this round."

"You're too good to us," Roman said. A little too sarcastically for Everleigh's liking.

She slapped him in the back of the head. "It's so I don't have to buy the expensive shit at the game. I'm not being nice, I'm being strategic."

After nearly tripping over her own chair and sticking the landing, ever so drunkenly graceful while Roman laughed at her, Everleigh walked over to the bar counter to pay for their drinks. A stolen glance over her shoulder gave her a nice view back to the table. Troy slapped Maverick on the shoulder, smiling widely. Maverick looked like he was laughing or, at the very least, grinning. Roman threw his head back and laughed. Everleigh smiled at her boys. She walked back over to the group once she had her card back, tucking it into her wallet again.

"Are we ready?"

"Ready," Maverick said.

"Your pint's not done," Roman said. A little too coercive for someone who was worried about him not five minutes before. "No pint left behind."

Maverick stared at it for a moment too long, Everleigh knew that stare. She reached across the table and took his pint in her hand, downing the rest of it. Slammed the glass back on the table.

"Okay, we're good. Up we get."

Maverick smiled into his hand.

"I think I just fell in love with you a bit for that one," Roman said. Everleigh swatted him in the head again. "Ow. Never mind. I hate you."

"Hate you too."

Maverick hopped up from his seat at the table. Took Everleigh's hand in his. Troy held the door for his favourite kids and Everleigh as they walked out of the pub, beginning their trek down the street to where the stadium was.

"Oh, Mister and missus Maverick?" Roman asked.

Maverick turned, Everleigh elected to ignore him.

"What?" Everleigh asked, eyes ahead.

The street was already starting to get busy as kickoff neared. Someone needed to make sure they were going in the right direction. Maybe her drunk ass wasn't the best idea, but she could try.

"Can I post this photo or are you two still pretending you're not dating online?"

Everleigh stopped walking and Roman ran straight into her back. "Let me see the photo."

Roman turned away from her as Everleigh turned toward him. "Leigh, answer the question—"

"You answer the question—"

Roman was frantically texting, angled away from her.

"Roman—"

"Don't you dare, Leigh—" Troy said.

"No—"

"Oh no—" Maverick started.

Everleigh was drunk enough that jumping on Roman's back was the best idea.

Roman shrieked.

"Leigh," Troy said. "People are staring."

"I... kind of want to know if she's gonna win," Maverick said. (Considering how hard he'd slapped her in the ass that morning with a kitchen spatula, she had the feeling there were slightly ulterior motives to watching her from the back.)

"She usually wins," Troy said.

"Get off me, Leigh—"

"Usually?"

"Yup."

"Show me the photo."

"Like, they do this a lot?"

"Constantly."

"Leigh—"

"She broke his finger once."

"You broke his finger, Everleigh?"

"It was an accident!"

"Can confirm, that one wasn't Leigh's fault."

Everleigh grabbed Roman's phone from his hand and got off his back, but kept her arm around his neck. If Jenny had been there, she probably would've chided Maverick on being a terrible influence. Unbeknownst to her, Everleigh had put Roman in many headlocks in the time she had known him, and Roman had put her in just as many. Many not in public while she was dating a musician and British media were constantly up their asses if they spent too long in public, but those were minor details.

(They might not have ever had her name confirmed, but they were definitely well acquainted.) (Everleigh had loudly told them to fuck off while trying to put her groceries in her trunk one day, landed herself a spread about how she was a bitchy heathen with a temper—Twitter was up in arms that Maverick deserved better.) (Roman thought it was funny, Maverick asked if she wanted a statement made by his publicist, and Stevie texted that she would fly over simply to punch whoever wrote the article square in the face.) (Ultimately, Everleigh let it fizzle out because nothing else seemed worth it—she wasn't going to stop them from calling her –zilla and her energy was better used toward growing a pair to quit her job.)

Looking at Roman's phone, Everleigh's eyes widened. "Kingston, turn around."

"Why?"

"Please."

Maverick obliged.

"Oh my God."

"You didn't know about that?" Troy asked.

"Why would we know about that?"

"Because you're disgustingly in love with each other." Roman wheezed out a laugh. Hands still on Everleigh's arm and trying to pull it away from his neck. "You know for someone so fucking boney—"

Everleigh swatted him on the top of the head with his phone. Nearly lost the picture.

The photo in question was of Everleigh and Maverick from behind while they were holding hands. It was cute, Everleigh would probably steal it from him later. What she hadn't expected was the names on the back of their shirts. They both had 94, because Maverick was only four months older than Everleigh, but he had Meadowlark on his back and she had Maverick. They were entirely too distracted by the search for Maverick's hearing aids to check that they were wearing their own shirts. Christ almighty. Now they looked like every cheesy tourist couple in the universe. Fucking disgusting. Even the background of the street they were on looked like a cheesy romcom set. Awful. Nasty. Revolting. Vomit-inducing.

"Is something wrong?"

"You're wearing my daughter's shirt," Troy said, snorting out a laugh. "Roman and I noticed at the first pub, we just figured you knew."

"I would never wear his last name—"

"Come on, Meadowlark, don't say never—"

"Without knowing—"

"Maverick would probably take your name." Everleigh fought the urge to actually choke Roman for anything that came out of his mouth. Beat his head in with the closet thing to her which was Maverick.

Instead, she let him go. Texted the photo to herself before tossing his phone back to him. "Twat."

"That's it?"

"Oh, I'm posting it." Everleigh was already on her phone, typing away. "And I'm not giving you photo credit."

"Doesn't Brendon Ellis follow you?"

"Yup."

"Bitc—"

"Can we please go inside before you two kill each other?" Troy asked. "You're not being very hospitable to our Maverick."

"Oh, it's okay—"

"It's his first soccer game."

"Okay, I'm leaving," Maverick said. "I'm watching football by myself."

Troy wrapped an arm around Maverick's shoulder. He always was a touchy drunk. Maverick was probably holding him upright as much as he was walking along with him. "I'm going with my favourite son."

"Hey—" Roman protested.

"Later, losers," Troy said, holding up a peace sign.

Everleigh looked at Roman as Maverick and Troy walked away from them. "Do you think they realize I have the tickets?"

"Nope."

"Are you having fun?"

"The best time." Roman smiled. "Thank you."

Everleigh held her fist out and Roman tapped it with his. "Good. I'll buy you a pint inside."

*

"That's a foul!" Troy yelled. Like the referees could hear him. Hands cupped around his mouth that had drank too much beer since entering the gates and the first half. Too much, Everleigh thought, although she and Roman had drank a whole lot more than him.

As part of his rookie initiation, Maverick had the unfortunate task of sitting next to him while he yelled. Luckily, Maverick was all too entertained by Troy's cussing and yelling. Made it easier for Everleigh and Roman to leave and go get more booze. They were surely going to get cut off any time, so they had to milk it while it lasted.

Everleigh sat down beside Maverick, who was leaned over to Troy. "What are you doing?"

Maverick and Troy turned to her and Roman, none the wiser they were even there in the first place.

"Kingston's teaching me how to video call! I didn't know you could see people's faces while you talked to them!"

"Who are you calling in the middle of a football game?"

Maverick turned his phone and Margaret waved. Everleigh became well aware of how hot her face felt, of the rosy cheeks Roman had pointed out at the last pub.

"Hi, mom!" Everleigh waved. "You look beautiful!"

Hi! It wasn't like Everleigh could hear her over the roar of the crowd as the players came running down to their side of the pitch. The crowd didn't damper when they missed their shot on goal, the booing and hissing loud enough.

Maverick turned the phone back to himself as Margaret spoke again.

Everleigh leaned her head on Maverick's shoulder.

"Mom says you're a cute drunk," Maverick yelled over the crowd, pressing a small kiss onto Everleigh's forehead. He was a lot better at reading lips than her.

"Mags almighty, I've never drank alcohol in my life!"

Margaret pointed to the plastic cup of beer in Everleigh's hand. A little too visible from the camera.

Everleigh pouted. "I'm so sorry, please don't be mad at me."

Margaret raised her hand, her middle two fingers bent down. I love you.

Everleigh grinned. "I love you too! You're beautiful!"

"Thwip thwip!" Troy yelled. Making the I love you sign with his hand like he was shooting webs. "I love Spider-Man! He's my favourite! Is her your favourite?"

"Oh my God." Maverick supressed a snort with his hand.

Everleigh erupted in giggles and buried her head into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Your son is amazing!" Troy yelled. "Thank you for being a great mom! We love him!"

Margaret pressed her fingertips to her chin, hand extended. She tilted her hand toward them. Thank you. Her three middle fingers bent down, thumb pointed toward herself and pinky toward the camera, she moved it back and forth. You too.

"Mom, I'm gonna go!" Maverick yelled. "Thank you for picking up! I love you, I'll call you soon!"

Have fun, Everleigh read on her lips. Love you.

"She says it's nice to meet you!"

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" Roman jumped up from his seat, sloshing beer onto Everleigh's thigh.

Everleigh assumed someone had scored. The stadium agreed with his sentiments.

Roman tried to brush the beer off her like it was cookie crumbs and not liquid already soaking into her jeans. "Sorry!"

Everleigh waved him off. "All good!"

"Buy the next one!"

"I love you, Mags!" Everleigh yelled, attention already back on Maverick's phone.

Margaret laughed and waved goodbye. Maverick ended the call.

"I love her," Everleigh said, drinking her beer a little too quickly. Finishing it so she could put her cup at her feet.

Maverick laughed. "Do you? I don't think she knows."

"Call her back." Everleigh pouted. "I want her to know."

Maverick kissed her forehead again. "I'll text her that you love her. Okay?"

"Okay." Everleigh took his arm and wrapped both of hers around it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I love her so much." Everleigh was probably yelling in his ear.

"I know you do."

"I love you so much too."

"Do you save all your giddiness for when you're drunk?" Maverick asked. He wrinkled his nose at her. "I've never seen you this clingy, Meadowlark."

Everleigh draped a leg over his thigh for good measure, pushing the arm rest up so she could sit as close as possible without falling from her chair. Rested her chin on his shoulder so she could look up at him through her eyelashes. Who fucking cared about a football match when the sun was hitting Maverick like a halo? Destined to be shining for eternity. Like the sun was made to highlight the freckles across his nose and make those whiskey eyes sparkle.

(Either Everleigh was really drunk or Maverick was really hot.)

(Or both.)

(Another point in the yes column for proving Everleigh's hypothesis that Kingston Maverick was hot no matter what he did, including sit in a seat at a football game and smile.)

"Never mind," Maverick said, placing his hand on her knee. "I don't care. Don't answer that. It doesn't matter."

Everleigh grinned. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Funny how a roaring crowd seemed distant because Maverick was right there. That time stood still and that the top kept spinning on the counter and that Everleigh could sit in that moment for ages and not even worry about whether it was going to fall or not. If Maverick was a dream, she would live in it for eternity.

When she was a kid, Everleigh was continually told not to look into the sun because it would damage her eyes. If Maverick was Apollo, spending each day dragging the sun across the globe with his chariot, she would gladly go blind for even a glimpse of him.

"You're missing the game," Maverick said.

"You're pretty," Everleigh said.

Maverick snorted. "Am I?"

Everleigh pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Very."

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, she leaned a little more into Maverick to free it before opening the texts as more came in.

Everleigh idkyourmiddlename Meadowlark what the everloving fuck

THAT PHOTO WAS THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN YOU OWE ME GRAVOL I'M GONNA THROW UP

but that's only part of the reason i'm texting you through my tears

IS MAV BLONDE??? EVERLEIGH I'M DYING WHY ARE YOU TWO SWITCHING HAIRSTYLES?? WAS HE BLONDE AT THE AIRPORT AND I DIDN'T NOTICE???

OH MY GOD HE TOTALLY WAS I WAS TOO BUSY CRYING FUCK ME

"Please don't tell Stevie I had a mental breakdown dye job," Maverick said, laughing. Not trying to hide the fact he'd read her texts upside down. "That's something I need to tell her on my own time."

Jane.

you're the cutest thing ever.

"Everleigh, stop flirting with Stevie."

Everleigh looked up and pulled his head to her lips, pressing a kiss to his temple and running her hands through his curls. She wrinkled her nose at him and Maverick pressed a kiss to it to straighten them out. "No."

he is in fact blonde because they have more fun. <3

tell Mav i hope his Everleigh era is everything even if you're brunette now.

"My Everleigh era?" Maverick giggled into Everleigh's shoulder. "Oh my God."

Everleigh laughed. he says thank you and that he's sending you your gravol. <3

make his wallet hurt with express shipping please. <3

sounds like a plan, lovely.

and tell him he's my favourite Ken doll and that i love him. <3

Maverick threw his head back and laughed. "Tell Stevie she's a shit."

"I would never."

"Pass me the phone and I will."

"Stop."

Maverick laughed. "Can I please take a picture of you?"

"If you want."

Maverick pulled his phone out and snapped a photo. Everleigh didn't remember giving him her best smile, but she was certain it was a little too wide and sloppy. "You look drunk as all hell. I hope you know that."

Everleigh's face heated up. "It can't be that bad."

"I didn't say it wasn't cute."

She smiled a little wider. God, Everleigh was going to be hungover in the morning.

Maverick kissed her cheek. Everleigh pulled him back for one on the lips.

"You know the game actually happens on the field," Roman said. "Not on Maverick's tongue—"

Everleigh pulled away and punched Roman in the shoulder. "Do you know how often I had to see you and Flo—"

Roman laughed and punched her in the side. "It's my bachelor party, I get to make the rules. No kissing boyfriends while the football's on."

"What about kissing girlfriends?" Maverick asked. He slipped his arm over Everleigh's shoulders.

Roman rolled his eyes. "I hate both of you."

Maverick trailed his finger along Everleigh's jaw to turn her head back to look at him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Always." Everleigh smiled. Still a little too drunken.

Maverick's nose grazed her hairline as he leaned in a little closer. Everleigh would be lying if she said she didn't lean into it. Lips barely touched the side of her head as he whispered. "I really have to pee."

Everleigh pushed her hand into Maverick's face and snorted out a laugh. "I hate you."

Maverick laughed, breath against her palm. He gently took her leg off his. "Be right back."

"Stay sexy and don't get murdered," Everleigh said as Maverick squeezed past her knees and the seat in front of her.

"He's going to be gone for ages."

"That's a foul!" Troy yelled. "Open your fucking eyes!"

Roman and Everleigh exchanged looks and immediately erupted into laughter.

Roman nudged his shoulder into Everleigh's. "That's why you invite him to your bachelor party."

Everleigh smiled. "Think he's enjoying himself."

"I hope you are. Even if you hate sports."

"I'm enjoying the drinks."

"Works for me."

"You still enjoying yourself?"

"Absolutely."

"Good."

Roman smiled. "Is loverboy?"

"I hope so."

"Is he actually that nervous to be here?" Roman asked. "He's met us before."

"There's..." Everleigh put her hand beside her head and shook it. "He's got a lot going on right now. It's not you two."

"Can I help at all?" Roman crossed his arms. If he had a notebook and pen, Everleigh was certain Maverick would be getting questioned the moment he sat back down.

Everleigh shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Are you guys doing okay?"

"We're okay. Good. Great, even."

"Course you are," Roman said. "Making out at the football game. Ridiculous."

Everleigh laughed.

A loud buzzer sounded and the players ran from the field. Halftime. Everleigh had checked, it was only around fifteen minutes. Short time for such a long game.

"If there's anything I can do for him—" Roman said, "Please let me know. I know other counsellors if he doesn't want to talk to me."

"I'll let him know. Thank you."

Roman nodded. "Any time."

"These refs are shit," Troy said.

Roman and Everleigh laughed as Maverick came back to his seat. Everleigh barely let his ass hit the seat before she looped her arm through his again.

"No bathroom has ever been that close to our seats," Roman said. "I have to piss like a racehorse, where is it?"

Maverick laughed. "Up the stairs and straight ahead after that."

"You're a lifesaver."

"Wait—" Everleigh caught Roman's arm as he pushed himself up. "I forgot about that."

Everleigh had booked the fan shoutout at the same time she'd booked the tickets. Thought about writing something stupid, but ultimately decided to be nice. It was Roman's day, after all. She didn't need him mad at her two months before his wedding. Especially when she still had final fittings to be his fiancée's maid of honour.

To a happy engagement, and a happy marriage. All the best, Rome. Love, your favourite sister.

"Oh my God." Roman pulled his phone out and took a photo of the scoreboard, the message in bold letters. "Thanks, Leigh."

"Don't mention it." Everleigh waved her hand and took a photo as well, right before it changed to the next message. Wishing some kid a happy eighth birthday. "Least I could do."

"Do you want another drink? My treat."

"Um. Sure. Yeah. Thanks."

"Ah, ah, ah." Troy stood from his seat, already digging his wallet out from his pocket. "This round's on me. No paying for your own stag."

"Thanks, Pa." Roman grinned. "This is the best day ever."

"Mav, do you want anything?" Troy asked.

"I'm good, thanks."

"You sure?"

"We can do non-alcoholic as well."

"No, thanks." Maverick smiled.

Troy squeezed past Everleigh and Maverick before he and Roman walked toward the stairs and concession.

Maverick leaned his head against Everleigh's shoulder as she went onto her Instagram again, dropping the photo of the scoreboard onto her story. Tagged Roman only because she was feeling nice. Her notifications once the story was posted were almost all Stevie screaming in her comments about how she was going to scream in her texts, Esmé was scattered in there as well—talking about how nauseous they made her but promised she meant that in a good way.

"Doing all right?" Everleigh asked, reaching up to Maverick's cheek.

"I think I'm getting to the tired part of this drunk."

"Yeah?"

Maverick draped his arm over Everleigh's torso. "Might still be in my Everleigh era. Fall asleep at a football game."

Everleigh laughed. "Gotta use Roman's shoulder for that."

"Mmmm." Maverick closed his eyes. Cuddled into her a little more. "Think I'll stick to you."

"Roman's very comfortable."

"So are you."

"Are you actually going to fall asleep?"

"Maybe."

Everleigh laughed and kissed his forehead. "Have a good rest."

"Love you."

"Love you too. Wake you up when the match is over."

"Good night."

"Good night."

Everleigh opened Instagram again. A small message notification on the top right. She pressed it quickly. Maverick's breathing was already soft in her ear.

@brendonellis replied to your story: Is this my husband you've tagged?

yes indeed

And this is the bachelor party for the person who he's marrying who's not me, right?

the stag for the wedding you're objecting to, yes.

Amazing. Have fun.

enjoy the races. break a leg!

Everleigh closed Instagram and mindlessly looked at other apps. Letterboxd alerted her that Stevie and Jun had watched another movie she'd recommended, Everleigh liked her four star review. Her incoming alerts said that Stevie had commented "SSEAKJHAEKRHAKWLEH ZOOTOPIA????" on Everleigh's list everleigh meadowlark's guide to literally scaring the pants off kingston maverick that featured every movie she'd watched with him where he'd jumped at something.

People started filing back into their seats after not too long. Roman and Troy missed the kick off, Everleigh actually paid attention to what was going on if only to catch them up to speed.

When they came back, Troy accidentally bumped into Maverick's knee and jolted him awake. Given the amount missing from his cup already, it was a wondering he hadn't fallen into Maverick's lap. "Sorry, son."

Maverick rubbed his eyes as he sat back up. "'S all good."

Roman handed Everleigh a plastic cup of beer. Probably her last of the day. "Quick, quick, my ass is vibrating."

"Ew." Everleigh took the glass from him and sipped it so it wasn't close to spilling over. "Too much information."

Roman pulled his phone from his pocket. "Oh my fucking God."

"You all right?"

"Oh my fucking God."

"What?"

Roman sat down. Put his beer on the ground. Laughed a little too high-pitched for it to be normal.

"What's—"

Roman buried her in a hug. "You're the best sister ever. Holy shit."

"It was just a fuckin' scoreboard, Rome."

"Not that." Roman pulled away, showed her his phone screen. A notification lighting it up.

Instagram: @brendonellis has requested to follow you!

Everleigh laughed. "Fuckin' boy wonder."