Season's Greetings

I opened the door to my apartment and greeted Abraham.

"Congrats on your win!" I told him.

"Congrats on your win!" he replied as he entered my foyer and kissed me.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving is the day that state rivalries face off in college football. Both of our alma maters had won.

He sat on my couch and sighed, "I can't believe football season is over."

"Well it is for you," I teased. "We're going to the conference championship next week. But I know what you mean. It was like the last three months have been a rush of adrenaline and now... nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Especially now that kickball is over for the next four months."

"Exactly."

"But I have been making plans now that we have all this free time," I said.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well I want to go to a hockey game and a brewery tour."

He paused, "Is that it?"

***

Dating during football season is hard. Especially in the South, college ball takes first priority. A girl I know dumped the guy she was seeing because she couldn't date someone during football season who didn't root for her team. I remember Statham's intense hatred for my team back in April when it didn't even matter and knowing it would be a problem if we ever got that far. Thankfully we didn't.

I remember when I was only flirting with Abraham at the bar back before football season, I stumbled over his university's name. The University of and State University can get confusing, especially after a few drinks. He corrected me.

"No, the other one. We're on the same side," he told me.

I remember him assuring me that, and I remember finding that so comforting. We are on the same side. I will root for you and you will root for me and we will hate our rivals together. We were on the same side before we even kissed. We were only talking football, but it was the perfect metaphor for relationships.

Since then we had evolved to keeping each other's football scores in our phones and congratulating university wins with kisses. It's Southern dating at its finest.

Abraham and I only saw each other about every other weekend as we were always traveling to our respective games. Our time together was during the weeks. Saying, "I can't this weekend; I have a game," was usually responded to with "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize." Or "My game is at 3 and your game is at 7. Why don't we try for 11?" It was understood that college football is number one for 12 Saturdays a year.

***

"Is that it? Abraham asked me, shocked that there were only two things on my list.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "They're the only things I really want to do." I too was shocked. I was shocked I told this boy that I had been making plans for us and not only did he not protest, but he expected more.

I leaned into the crook of his shoulder and laid my head on his chest, my arm extending across the soft curve of his belly. He lifted his arm and settled it around me, "I'm sure we can think of other things to do.”