All About You

Seventeen

I ’m on a call with Kiara and Diane on Saturday morning, when one from Marlon rudely interrupts it. I hold my phone away from my ear as my ringtone - SB19’s Bazinga - plays loudly.

I narrow my eyes, and text a quick apology to Kiara and Diane in our group chat. We’d called this morning to discuss our upcoming short film assignment, but had gotten sidetracked gossiping over how Kiara’s crush, Riley, had begun flirting with her over Instagram.

I accept Marlon’s phone call, and groan threateningly as a way of greeting.

“Whoa, okay hello to you too weirdo,” Marlon says. “I was talking to Kiara and Diane,” I tell him, pursing my lips.

“And you can get back to them, but firstly I need you to be ready to go out this afternoon. This is last minute but we’re having a social competitive game today at the court and it’d be weird if my girlfriend didn’t show up.”

My stomach curdles at the reminder that I’m the so-called girlfriend now.

“You’re right, that is last minute,” I grumble. Then, lowering my voice, I say, “Also, I thought the ruse was just for our families?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t want to risk it, especially with some of my basketball members being a part of the community.”

That’s true and deep down, I admire Marlon for being a little more careful with the ruse than I expected. I sigh. Today I was planning to catch up on some film-school homework as well as push through one more chapter of Whisper of the Dark before giving up on it.

“ Please Garcia,” Marlon whines into my ear, and I pull the phone away.

“Okay,” I drawl, “But you better tell me all about your date with Christine yesterday.”

When I texted Marlon, asking how his dinner with her went last night, he told me he’d tell me next time we see each other. He was really going to make me wait until Monday. The nerve.

“It’s a deal.”

He hangs up and texts me the time he’ll be picking me up. I resume the call with Kiara and Diane after, apologising for the disruption, telling them that it was just Marlon. They begin to coo over the fact I’ll be accompanying my fake boyfriend to a basketball game, and I remind them that

He’s a fake boyfriend It wasn’t like it’s the NBA or anything

They certainly practise like they’re in the NBA.

If you told me I’d be spending Saturday afternoon surrounded by sweaty boys throwing balls around, I would’ve laughed right in your face.

A couple of girls and I sit on the side of the court. I observe Marlon and his team as they practise their dribbling technique. I recognise a few of his teammates’ faces - two of them actually went to my school, and another I’d seen at Filipino festivals, while others I recognise from Marlon’s socials.

“Hey, Jaslene right?”

One of the girls - the one with pink highlights in her hair - sits beside me, a smile on her face. Her friend, I’m presuming, the one with blonde hair, follows in her direction, taking the seat beside her.

“Yes, that’s right,” I say, desperately flicking through my memories to when I could’ve possibly met this girl. I don’t think I have.

The girl with the pink highlights places a hand atop her chest, flustered.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Tiana, I’m Charlie’s girlfriend, the point guard on the team.”

I nod slowly, smiling, trying to remember whether Marlon told me what a point guard is. I turn toward the girl with the blonde hair.

“I’m Aera,” she introduces, bowing her head the slightest, “Nathan’s girlfriend.”

Nathan is a name I recognise - he’s one of the boys who used to go to my school. I’m pretty sure we’d been in the same role-call rooms once, in seventh or eighth grade.

“Nice to meet you both,” I express.

“Marlon’s told us quite a bit about you,” Tiana says, kindly, “Well, he’s told the boys a lot about you, so Charlie tells me.”

I dip my head, a little abashed. I know that this ruse is mainly for our families, so Marlon truly has no means to amplify the act so much in front of his friends. Still, it touches me.

“Oh? What has he said?” I ask, trying to hide the smile in my tone.

“He said that you were a little brat as a kid,” Aera chimes, a little amused, “But that he was a little dickhead to you too. But you both matured, and now you’re so much more than he thought. That you’re smart, a little fiery but you keep him in check.”

He said all that?

My eyes skitter toward Marlon. His basketball jersey clings to his skin, the sweat creating a shiny sheen on his face, his hair sticking ruthlessly to his forehead. His eyes were crinkled, furrowed in concentration, but the subtle quirk of his lips revealed all too well that this was fun for him. Something leaps in me, and I swallow the sharp feeling.

“Can’t believe he called me a brat,” I groan, lightheartedly, and Aera and Tiana laugh along with me.

“Ugh, Charlie better be talking about me like that, though,” Tiana interjects, “Not the brat part. But the nice parts.”

“I’m sure he does,” Aera offers, “If he doesn’t, he’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” I add, a little sheepishly.

Tiana tilts her head toward me, curious.

“I really liked Christine, and I was sad when I heard they broke up,” she says, suddenly. My eyes widen at the mention of Christine, but Tiana waves her hand, “Don’t worry, I mean it in a good way. Not that Christine wasn’t lovely, I do miss her sometimes. I talk to her still, less than before though. But, I don’t know, with you, Marlon seems more chill. Laidback. Light, you know?”

I chuckle, a little nervous, brushing a strand behind my ear, “I mean, I’m sure they really liked each other. I only met Christine a few times.”

“Of course they did. I just mean - you bring out a different side of Marlon, and it’s cute to see,” Tiana says, smiling.

A shrill whistle blows through the space, snapping us from our conversation. Marlon’s team scatter themselves across the court as the referee stands in the middle, clutching the basketball. Marlon himself stands at the centre, opposite to someone from the other team. His eyes skitter toward me, for a mere second, and he smiles. I can’t help it. I smile back.

Then, the game begins.

The referee throws the basketball toward the sky, and in a feat of energy, Marlon launches himself up, arm stretched outward. The player opposite to him does the same, but Marlon is taller, and quicker. He slaps his hand against the basketball, toward Charlie, who catches it. My breath catches, as the intensity of the game ramps up. I’d never been one for sports, yet I find myself leaning forward, cheering out loud everytime he or his teammates take hold of the ball. Once the first quarter concludes, Marlon is drenched, with beads of sweat coating his skin. As he approaches where the girls and I are sitting, I reach into his sports bag and frantically pull out his towel and water.

“Hey,” he huffs out, grabbing at the towel and water.

I inch away from him a little, torn between being disgusted at his state and in awe of his performance. I’ve always known he played basketball, but actually seeing him on the court, caught up in the passion, in the energy of the game is something else entirely.

He notices my aversion to his figure, and smirks. He wipes the sweat from his body with his towel, before throwing the used towel at me, catching me off guard. The towel lands on my face, and I feel the moistness of the fabric against my skin.

“Hey gross !”

Rapidly, I tear the towel from me, and whip it at him. Marlon gasps, dodging the attack, before laughing. I pretend to vomit, doubling over dramatically.

“Oh shut up Garcia, I saw how you cheered for me on the court,” he coos, taking a sip from his water bottle. I ignore the droplet of water that trickles from his mouth, and furrow my brows.

“So? Doesn’t mean anything,” I declare, crossing my arms.

Marlon quirks a brow, before lowering onto his knees, eyes levelled with mine. Reaching forward, he pinches my cheek, and I swat his hands away.

“It means you were swooning over your hot basketball player boyfriend, of course,” he retorts, and I scoff.

That’s when Aera’s voice chirps beside me.

“You guys are so cute, it’s sickening.”

We both turn toward her. Aera and Tiana had been watching us the entire time.

“Well, obviously,” Marlon ruffles the top of my hair, and I kick at his knee lightly. Someone from the court calls his name and he flashes me a smile before running back on.

My cheeks darken, and I glance down, refusing to acknowledge how my heart pounded the entire time Marlon was here.

When the game ends, Marlon’s team decides to celebrate their win at the local kebab takeaway shop, just a few minutes walk from the court. The place is quite small, with just one long plastic table and two benches. We all crowd onto the seats, squashing up against each other.

I end up right at the edge, half my body tipping over, and hold myself up with my leg, until I feel Marlon’s arm snake around my waist, holding me in place. I glance at him as he does so, a little surprised, but he doesn’t seem to realise.

Charlie goes to order us all three kebab snack packs to share, but it’s mainly for the boys to refuel.

When the snack packs are all ready, the boys practically devour it, and I manage to sneak in a couple of bites myself here and there. Marlon’s teammate - Jason - begins praising each of the team for their plays, with Nathan putting emphasis on Marlon’s two three-point-shots that kept them in the lead for a majority of the game.

“You must be proud of him, Jaslene,” Nathan adds. They all glance at me.

The grin that follows isn’t hard. I nod, turning to Marlon, whose eyes are also on me.

“I guess I am.”

“How’d you guys meet?” Ben, the boy with blonde highlights on the other side of the table, asks.

“Remember I told you guys, we’ve known each other since we were kids?” Marlon says.

“That’s right, that’s right. The girl who you used to love pissing off as a kid, but now you can’t stay away from, right?” Charlie teases.

My neck heats. Is that what Marlon’s been saying about me? I look at Marlon, and a small quirk of his lips is all that needs to be said.

“Exactly that.”

I turn to Marlon, surprised, and he meets my stare, his smile growing wider, dimples deepening. Even as the others dive into other topics of conversation, about the anime that they’re currently watching, the boy that Ben is eyeing, and how university has been, all I can think is how good of an actor Marlon is.

Once the sun trickles away from the sky, Marlon’s teammates begin to take it as their sign of leave. One by one they bid goodbye, and I enthusiastically exchange socials with both Aera and Tiana before they depart with their respective partners. Soon, it’s just Marlon and I left at the table, before we decide to go.

A chill breezes through the air, and I clutch at my arms as we head toward Marlon’s car.

“Here.”

Fabric falls over my shoulder, followed by a fresh scent that reminds me of summer. Warmth encases me immediately as Marlon pats his jacket down, securing it atop my body.

“What about you?” I ask, and my voice comes out all breathy, like I’d been running. I clear my throat.

“Oh, I have a spare jumper in the car, don’t worry,” he assures.

Once we step inside the car, he pulls on a jumper lying from the backseat. My eyes follow his every movement, the conversations from earlier floating in a disjoined orbit. He catches my stare before I can look away.

“What’s up?”

“All that stuff you said earlier, you’re really playing into this well,” I say, and I try to make my voice light and teasing, to show I’m unaffected.

A smirk plays on his lips and he leans forward, “How well, exactly, am I playing this?”

Heat brushes my neck and I glare, reaching forward to pinch him. He successfully dodges me, and turns away, chuckling, before fishing out his phone and sticking it against the window phone-holder. That’s when I glimpse the wallpaper. It’s one of us, the one from our karaoke duet.

My breath hitches, my stomach curdling violently.

“Why do you have us as your wallpaper?” I question. Marlon’s eyes flicker between me and the phone, and I swear I glimpse a hint of red against his cheeks.

“Well, that’s what couples do, isn’t it?” he asks. He nods toward my phone, “You should change yours too. I can’t have your ATEEZ boys being there in place of your boyfriend, especially when we’re at the family gatherings.”

“I guess that makes sense. I’m surprised my Mum hasn’t picked up on it, actually,” I say, hoping he doesn’t somehow hear the drumming against my chest. I unlock my phone and tap on the camera, bringing it to selfie mode. Marlon leans forward, as far as the seatbelt lets him.

“Come closer,” he whines, pulling me by the jacket, so my head practically falls against his shoulder.

As I hoist myself upward a little more, our cheeks almost brush against each other, and I pray he doesn’t feel the rapid thumping of my heart. We smile into the camera and once I take the photo, I pry myself from him, pressing myself against the car door.

“Show me, loser,” he says. We look like a real couple, our eyes twinkling, like two love-struck teenagers. “Hmm, cute.”

Hesitantly, I set the photo as my wallpaper, whispering a quiet goodbye to the ATEEZ photo. There, gracing my phone, is a selfie of Marlon and I, looking all the parts of a healthy, happy couple.

Once we drive off, I finally ask, “So, you and Christine? How did it go yesterday?”

We reach a red light, and Marlon sits back, fingers still on the wheel.

“It’s been going well. She really appreciated me taking her to her favourite restaurant last night, we caught up a lot more, just over what we’ve been up to. She’s doing well at med school, not so intense so far. Still has her receptionist job, but she might move on…Sorry I’m babbling. Anyway, the point is, I think the ice was definitely broken, it’s less awkward,” he tells me, and I nod along, internally tiptoeing between being happy for Marlon and another strange emotion.

“And…yeah. That’s pretty much it.”

He blows out his cheeks, before exhaling, “I’m happy with where it’s at right now, I think. I’m just glad she’s accepted me back into her life, you know?”

I wait a beat, before asking, “Does she know you’re trying to pursue her again?”.

At that, Marlon scratches his earlobe.

“As I said, taking it slow. I’m going to just focus on being a good person in her life now. A good friend to hopefully a good boyfriend, if she lets me prove it to her again.”

We continue driving in a comfortable silence, and I let the news brew over me. So, Marlon and Christine are back on good terms. As for Rafayel and I, we are somewhat…on a path. Our ruse seems to definitely be falling into place. Then why doesn’t it feel much like a victory?