The two men I’d grown up playing with, didn’t miss a beat. They were obnoxious, but they weren’t impolite. Each one made sure to shake Kulti’s hand before settling back into place. Simon didn’t look twice at him, but I noticed Marc staring at him a little too intently.

Shit.

I’d tell him the truth later, once I was sure he wouldn’t lose his shit and start crying. Would he be pissed? Of course but it was either him being mad at me or the possibility he’d fall to the ground and start kissing Kulti’s feet.

“So, you have room? I think I counted seventeen people, right?” I asked, rocking back on my heels and swinging my stuff with my other hand, keeping a steady eye on Marc.

Simon made a noise as he looked behind at the people who had gathered. “I’ll see if somebody wants to sit this game out and play the next one instead.”

“All right, if not then I’ll sit it out and see if someone will swap with me next game,” I offered, still watching the dark-haired man I’d grown up with.

Simon, a tallish blond, rolled his eyes and scowled. “Right. You know you can ask half of these assholes if they’ll let you play and they’ll fight over who will do it.”

I snorted and let him head toward the group, leaving me with Kulti and Marc. Marc was looking at Kulti like he was trying to undress him. Lines furrowed his forehead and a second later, he slanted his gaze over in my direction and the confusion deepened.

“Hey, Sal?” he asked slowly, cocking his head to the side.

Kulti was busy looking around, aloof. Thankfully.

I shot Marc a look that clearly said shut up. “Later.”

“Come here,” he insisted in a low voice, eyes narrowed just a bit more.

Fortunately, Simon chose that instant to call everyone together to choose teams so I turned away. With my boss-slash-friend on one side, and one ex-professional soccer player on the other, we made our way toward Simon.

But Marc wouldn’t leave me alone. Knocking his fist against mine as we walked, he leaned toward me. “Sal, is that—“

“No.”

“Holy—“

“Be quiet about it at least, big mouth,” I hissed under my breath so that Kulti wouldn’t hear me.

Marc stopped walking. His normally tan face went white. “Are you shitting me?”

“No.”

I kept on going. If I didn’t pay attention to him, then I couldn’t confirm anything.

They figured out who were going to be the team captains by a process of guessing numbers. The winners were one man I’d played with a few times before, whose name I thought was Carlos, and the other I didn’t know. After an intense game of paper-rock-scissors, Carlos got to pick first. He immediately looked over and waved me forward. “I’ll take Sal first.”

“What a suck-up,” Simon said, as I walked by him, an affectionate smile on his face. “I’m Sal and I play professional soccer. Look at me,” he added in a high-pitched girly voice right before kicking me in the butt.

The other captain called Simon’s name, and I swatted his leg away with a laugh.

Each person was chosen until the only people left were Kulti, a girl I’d played with before and another guy. Marc had been picked for Carlos’ team too, and I could see him making faces, tipping his head over in Kulti’s direction not very subtly. Finally understanding what was going on, Carlos pointed at the ex-star. I would forever hold onto the fact that he’d gotten chosen almost last for what had to be the first time in his life, and said “I’ll take him.”

I couldn’t help but snicker to myself. When I caught Marc’s eye, he slid me a sneaky evil grin that had lost its surprised pallor. For all I knew, Kulti could suck just as much at softball as my brother did, so I really wasn’t sure what Marc was excited about. This could go horribly.