The Romantics



love and frisbee golf


The next day after school, Gael tossed his Frisbee toward the wire mesh basket of the fourth hole with avid precision. Just east of campus, Gael and Mason’s favorite Frisbee golf course was technically part of UNC, but no one had ever given them a hard time about being there.

Gael had managed to make it home from the Franklin Street Halloween celebration relatively unscathed (and without any more uncomfortable overtures from Cara). They’d finished up their nachos, walked back toward campus, and parted at the post office, Gael trying not to think too much about the last girl he’d parted ways with at that very spot.

When Gael got home, his mom had seemed a little miffed when he didn’t want to tell her anything about his night—she always stayed up late watching scary movies on Halloween and was waiting eagerly when he got in the door. But he knew if he so much as looked at her too long, he might lose it. And he’d promised his dad he wouldn’t tell.

With so much bouncing around in his head, he practically jumped at Mason’s invitation to play Frisbee golf. And as much as he was still not fully over what Mason had done, he had to admit that doing something normal with Mason, especially after all the drama yesterday with his dad, felt pretty damn good.

The Frisbee clanked against the metal pole and fell to the ground. Close, but no cigar.

“The hole in one evades you, my friend,” Mason said.

It was properly cold out today, and they both wore UNC sweatshirts they’d bought together at Student Stores the previous fall.

“Since when do you say ‘evades’?” Gael asked, laughing.

Mason shrugged, then tossed his Frisbee without much focus. It landed a good twenty feet from the basket. Frisbee golf was the one thing that Gael had always excelled at over Mason. Last fall, they probably played twice a week, but Mason never could get his wrist to stay straight when he threw it. It was a nerdy sport to be good at, but it was fun.

This fall, of course, they hadn’t played at all until now.

Gael traipsed across the grass, kicking and crunching the leaves in his wake, Mason at his heels. He grabbed his Frisbee from where it had landed right next to the goal and plunked it in the basket. “A hole in two,” he said. “Also not terrible.”

Mason proceeded to toss the Frisbee too short and too far, as he always did, inevitably losing count of his number of shots. Finally, he just grabbed it, walked it to the basket, and pushed it in forcefully.

“Everything okay?” Gael asked. It wasn’t like Mason to care about Frisbee golf.

Mason shrugged. “Anika’s being weird,” he said.

Gael raised his eyebrows. “Think she might be hooking up with your best friend? Oh, wait. I’m right here.”

I probably should have said former, Gael thought. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t have.

Mason rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” He grabbed his Frisbee out of the basket and began to twirl it in his hands. “I think she was pissed that I didn’t follow her stupid plan to get us all back together at lunch.”

Gael shifted his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t quite know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

Mason didn’t wait for a response. “She said I should have backed her up on that, that if we were going to actually date properly, we couldn’t keep acting all ashamed all the time.”

Gael burst out laughing. “Dude, you don’t act ashamed all the time. Neither does she.”

“That’s because Anika’s always trying to save face,” Mason said. “But she feels bad. Really bad. She talks about it all the time.”

Gael kicked at a few leaves on the ground. “What do you want me to say?”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Mason said, tossing the Frisbee onto the ground. “We got into this stupid argument last night. She suddenly didn’t want to go out for Halloween because she felt so guilty. She kept talking about some Cleopatra costume she’d planned to wear with you?”

Gael laughed softly. It made him feel better that she remembered, that she cared, even if only the tiniest bit.

“And the weird thing is, any other girl, when things got to that point, I would have just moved on. But even after arguing, when we finally got to Franklin, like, I didn’t even want to look at any of the girls in skanky costumes. I didn’t even care.”

“Cause you only wanted to look at her, right?” Gael asked.

Mason nodded. “Yeah.” He picked the Frisbee back up. “And I know it’s shitty of me to bug you about this. I know how completely screwed up it was to do what we did. I mean, if you did that to me now, god, I don’t know, I’d want to kill you.”

“I’m pretty sure I did want to kill you,” Gael offered.

Leah Konen's books