Player, p.2
Player, page 2
“I didn’t buy her a drink.”
When he rolled his eyes, his whole face went with them. “No, I did. You putting her drink on my tab was smooth, I’m not gonna lie, but I still won. Come on, a little wager on the spit shine. You say I can’t have the ass I want, so this is my compromise—I get to watch you make an ass out of yourself while you try to figure out how to date.”
“I know how to date. I just don’t do it.”
“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you saw a girl more than three times?”
My brows drew together. “That’s not the point.”
He pushed off the wall, his face full of amusement and challenge. “That’s exactly the point. And those are my terms. How bad do you want me to leave her alone?”
I imagined him toying with her, stringing her along, hurting her like he would. He always did.
I could have named a dozen times off the top of my head that he’d hurt a girl, an unsuspecting, trusting girl. He spaced them into his conquests with an almost methodical precision, knowing how I hated it. I’d done my best to get him to quit leading on the innocent ones at work. The last one had been so upset when things fell apart, she’d wrecked her part during a show the next day and was fired on the spot.
But he was Ian, and nobody told Ian what to do. I could goad him, guide him, but that marked the end of my power.
I imagined Val coming to work with her face swollen and eyes bright with tears, unable to concentrate, potentially losing her job. Because as much as I wanted to believe she was too smart to fall for him, I’d seen him lie his way into enough hearts not to doubt him.
The thought seized me by the guts and twisted.
And judging by the familiar challenge in his eyes, there was only one way out.
“Swear it,” I said, my voice low. “Swear that if I hold up my end, she’s off the table. You won’t touch her, talk to her, ask her out—nothing. Swear it, Ian.”
He smiled. “I swear.”
I stuck my hand out for a shake, but instead of taking it, he punched me in the shoulder and laughed that carefree laugh of a man with no soul to burden.
“God, you’re such a pussy. Good luck. Clock starts tomorrow. Not gonna lie…I’m hoping you lose. I’d love me a little taste of that girl.”
“I fucking hate you,” I said lightly.
He clapped me on the arm. “I love you too, man. I love you, too.”
With that, he walked away in the direction of the flutists. When I picked up my bag and turned for the exit, I caught sight of Val, who was watching me again. Her eyes darted away the moment I looked at her, the gesture as sweet and endearing as it was worrisome.
Reluctance pressed on my shoulders in layers, and in between every one was another emotion—relief, frustration, anticipation.
My only comfort was that she’d be better off dealing with me than with Ian.
At least I wouldn’t hurt her.
2
Proof Positive
Val
“Good news, bad news.”
I closed the door to our brownstone with a neat click.
The faces of my three roommates turned to the sound of my voice. They sat scattered around the living room, listening to music—Rin with her computer resting on her never-ending legs, Amelia with a book in her small hands, and Katherine with a ball of yarn in her lap and knitting needles clutched in her fingers.
I felt my expression quirk in confusion. “Are those…knitting needles? Are you knitting?” I asked stupidly.
She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to learn. Plus, I’m the only librarian in the New York Public Library system who doesn’t. Even old James does it, although I’m pretty sure it’s just so he can get into Esther’s pants.”
“Isn’t she, like, eighty?” Amelia asked, frowning.
“I know. He has a thing for older women. He’s barely pushing seventy-five.”
Rin snorted a laugh and closed her laptop. “Bad news first, Val. Always the bad news first.”
I sighed, dropping my bag behind the couch and walking around to sit next to Katherine. “It happened again. I swear, I cannot share air with him without somehow making a fool out of myself.”
“Oh no,” Amelia said, her voice soft and face sad. “Sam?”
“Who else?” I picked up Katherine’s ball of yarn before it rolled off the couch. “This time was the coup de grâce…I emptied my spit valve onto his shoe.”
Amelia gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
Katherine’s needles stopped moving. “You spit on his shoes?”
“Just one shoe, and I didn’t actually spit, but yes.”
“What’s the good news?” Rin asked, her face drawn in concern.
My sickening embarrassment lifted with my smile. “He knows my name.”
Giggles erupted out of all of us. Well, except Katherine, but she was almost smiling, which was her equivalent to a full-blown grin.
Amelia beamed. “Okay, tell us the whole story.”
“Well, I was trying not to pay attention to him, and I guess it worked a little too well. I didn’t even see him coming when I emptied my spit valve and ended up blowing all over his shoes. For a split second, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. But instead of cardiac arrest, I lost my mind. I got on the ground to clean it off like an idiot. And my mouth—my God, my mouth—would not stop going on about spit and vomit and…ugh,” I groaned.
“Vomit?” Now Katherine was definitely smiling, which consisted of a sardonic tilt of her lips, nothing more.
“Vomit. But then he helped me up, held this hand”—I lifted it in display, palm out—“and said my name! He knows my name!” I laughed, pressing the hand he’d held to my warmed cheek. “God, I am such an idiot for him.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Nothing, I’m sure. He’s so far out of my league, he might as well live on Jupiter. He probably only remembers me because I fell on him last week. But man, oh, man—does he have a great lap.”
“Maybe he likes you,” Rin said hopefully.
A laugh burst out of me. “Please, Rin. I know you’ve never seen him, but trust me when I say he’s so gorgeous, it hurts to look at him. Like, it gives me physical pain. I’m pretty sure I have permanent retinal damage from looking without sunglasses on.”
“So what if he’s gorgeous?” Katherine asked matter-of-factly. “He’s always so nice to you even though you almost broke his bass that time.”
I groaned again at the memory. “Don’t remind me. Or the time I was joking around with the French horns and laid a full-force high note right in his face.”
“Well, it’s only fair you busted his eardrums after what he did to your retinas,” Rin said.
I couldn’t even laugh. “Honestly, there’s no way a guy like him would ever consider a girl like me. He dates skinny little size two models.”
“You don’t know that,” Katherine added.
“I mean, why wouldn’t he?” I asked honestly. “A guy like him could have anybody he wants. And I mean that. Single, married, straight, gay, man, woman. I’m convinced there’s not a single human on the planet who would turn him down.”
“No one is that good-looking,” Katherine said.
I shook my head as I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened my photo app. “Fine. You don’t believe me? Here.” I shoved my phone at her.
She put down her needles and took it, leaning in, squinting her eyes. “It’s kind of blurry. Is that your music stand in the way?”
I snatched my phone back. “Well, I was trying to be covert.”
“Does he have Instagram?” Amelia asked.
I worried at my bottom lip. “I’ve never looked.”
Katherine snatched my phone back again. “Well, why not?” She opened up the social app and clicked on the search.
“Because I’m afraid if I watch his life, it’ll make the obsession worse. It’s bad enough that I have to see him every day and know I can never, ever have him. If I start following him, I’ll feel like I know him. It’s better for everyone this way.”
“Fine, you don’t have to look, but I’m going to. What’s his last name?”
My nose wrinkled up. “I don’t want to say.”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Val. Don’t be a baby. If you really want me to believe he’s that gorgeous, I need proof. Now spill it—what is his last name?”
“Haddad.” The word was almost a sigh.
Her fingers flew as she typed, and I leaned over to look. Rin and Amelia hurried to the back of the couch to look over our shoulders.
I thought I was prepared for photos of him. I mean, how could a photo be more disarming than the real-life version?
Answer: a million ways to Sunday.
His feed was a grid of images that did something unexpectedly intense to my insides, a hot stirring that twisted in my chest and slithered all the way down to low, low in my stomach. There wasn’t a single photo that wasn’t utterly perfect. Sam jamming with his friends. A top-down shot of a frying pan of eggs and bacon that displayed his shirtless abs in the process. A shot of his fingers brushing the ivory keys of a piano. Sam reading a book—a book—a big, fat hardback. Shirtless Sam sipping his coffee. Sam lying in his bed, looking into the camera like he was gazing across the pillow at me.
Katherine drew an audible breath and opened a picture that held the four of us perfectly still.
The image was of Sam playing his bass, one foot on the ground, the other hooked on the rung of his stool, his thighs parted to make room for the curving wooden instrument. I knew it was massive, but somehow he made it look small, natural, as if it had been fit to him exactly. His left hand pressed the strings with strong fingers, and his right held the bow with delicate grace, the veins visible, primed with blood and oxygen and vitality. His head angled to the ground, his eyes down, his dark, angular face caught in a moment of emotion, of connection to the music we couldn’t hear.
“Wow,” Katherine breathed. “You win. I get it.”
“Can we agree now that he’s totally unattainable?”
Katherine made a face. “Not totally unattainable. Someone could attain him.”
“But I am not that person.”
“You can’t know that, Val. You like him. He’s handsome and treats you with kindness, even when you spit on his shoes. I think you should ask him for coffee. See if there’s something more to it.”
I laughed, a nervous sound that betrayed the dread I felt at asking him for anything. “I can’t talk to him at work. How would I get through an entire coffee date with him? I’d probably pour my latte in his lap by accident and damage his jock, which I bet is as flawless as the rest of him. And then I’d have to live with the fact that I maimed the most perfect penis on the planet. I’d owe all humankind a public apology.”
Amelia nodded thoughtfully. “I think Katherine’s right. I mean, what could it hurt? It’s not like you could be any more embarrassed than the time you—”
I whirled around and clapped my hand over her mouth. “I cannot even believe you would jinx me like that, Judas.”
But Rin was nodding, too. “I think it’s a good idea, Val. You can see if there’s something more there than a pretty face. Ask him for coffee. Maybe there’s some reason you could give him, something you wanted his advice on.”
My blood pressure spiked at the thought of actually asking him to go on a coffee date with me. “He won’t want me. I might think he’s amazing, but no universe exists wherein a guy like that”—I gestured to my phone—“wants a girl like this.” I flung a hand in the direction of my hips. “Why would he want a size sixteen with cellulite when he could have a size two with thigh gap?”
Katherine’s face was stern, her eyes flaming. “Because you happen to be incredible, Valentina Bolivar. And if he can’t see that, then he’s a fucking douchebag and he doesn’t deserve you. A guy like that would be lucky to have a girl like you. And if you like him, then you have to at least try. Of all of us, you are the one who is brave enough, who is confident enough to go after a guy and get him.”
I gave her a look. “To be fair, we are not the bravest bunch. Four glorious wallflowers. Amelia can’t speak to strangers, you scare everyone to death, Rin would rather eat a live snake than speak out of turn, and I am just too extra. It’s like saying I’m the head bunny tamer.”
“Come on, Val,” Rin said on a laugh. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
I held up my hand and began ticking things off. “I could faint, I could cry, I could start speaking in tongues. He could say no, he could laugh at me. He could pity me. Should I go on?”
No one spoke. Katherine was still pissed.
“I love you guys for believing in me. I do. But this is just madness. It’d be like, Hey, you should just ask Chris Pratt out. He’s recently on the market.”
“Too soon,” Amelia groaned.
“I’m just saying, he’s not on my market. In fact, I don’t even know if Sam’s on the market at all. He could totally have a girlfriend, and I might make an irreparable ass out of myself for no reason.”
“It’s coffee, Val,” Katherine said flatly. “You’re not asking him to elope.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Rin cut me off.
“I know it’s scary,” she said, her face soft. “But what if he doesn’t say no? Wouldn’t it be worth asking if the answer was yes?”
I took a breath to respond, but this time, Amelia cut me off.
“Like Katherine said, it’s just coffee. Ask him if he’d answer some questions for a blog post.”
“I don’t have a blog,” I said, feeling my resolve crumble at the prospect of him saying yes.
“Well then, tell him it’s for mine,” Amelia volleyed.
“You blog about books,” I shot back.
“He doesn’t know that.”
The temptation of spending a little time alone with him filled me with anticipation and a flurry of nerves—What would I do? What would I say?—but I imagined he’d know exactly how to soothe me. Maybe his charm would bring me down to normal levels, and we could actually have a real conversation. Maybe he’d even be charmed by me, too.
Maybe, in that dream world, I would have a shot with a guy like him.
More likely, my crush would turn me into a stalker, and his would never even start.
But that fantasy played itself out in my head, leading me to tentatively ask them, “Just coffee?”
“Or drinks,” Katherine added. “A little social lubrication never hurt anyone.”
“And it’s not lame of me to ask him out?”
“You’re not really asking him out,” Amelia said. “Not if you use my blog as cover. But maybe you won’t have to do that. Maybe he’ll just say yes, and you won’t need to explain. And anyway, we’re far enough into the millennium that asking a guy out isn’t weird. Feminism for the win!”
“I cannot believe you guys are talking me into this. I haven’t been on a date since college—almost five years ago. Guys don’t ask me out. I don’t date. Even then, I didn’t date. Pizza, bad oral, and lackluster missionary in a dorm room with the lights out doesn’t count.”
“Just ask him,” Rin said. “If he says no, I don’t think he’ll be cruel about it. He’s always so charming that I bet he’d find a smooth way out of it. And then you’ll know for sure it’s a no.”
“You should wear your lipstick,” Amelia said with a smile.
“Oh, I’m definitely not ready to bust out the Heartbreaker. First, he’d know something was up if I came in wearing lipstick the color of a fire truck. And second, I can’t play the trumpet with red lipstick on or I really would look like a clown. Or a hooker. Either way, it wouldn’t get me a coffee date.”
“So, you’re going to do it?” Rin asked.
With a sigh and a smile, I gave up. “I’ll think about it.”
Which we all knew meant I would do it.
3
Genetics
Sam
Notes layered in my mind to the beat of the train as it clacked through the tunnel. The voices of the commuters. The sway of the car. The melody rose in me too quickly to write down. But I tried anyway, scribbling in my notebook resting on my thigh.
I did some of my best composing on the subway. I didn’t know what it was about it—the crunch for time maybe, the riot of senses engaged, the rhythm—but sometimes I’d hop on the train and ride with no destination, just to write, just to feel the rush of creation.
When I looked up, it was just in time to see the 103rd Street station slide into view.
I’d missed my stop.
“Fuck,” I hissed, scrambling to hang on to my notebook as I wound through people.
I barely cleared the doors when they closed, and the train pulled away, whipping the air around me in its exit.
Fortunately, my parents’ place was right between the stations, so rather than take the train back a stop, I climbed the stairs, stowing my notebook in my bag as I stepped into the crisp fall afternoon, heading west, toward the park.
It was always quieter on this side of the city, with Central Park on one side and a stack of old buildings on the other. Trees stretched up, obscuring the sky in sheets of gold, fiery oranges and brassy reds, dropping occasional leaves bigger than my hand. Soon the trees would be bones, asleep for the winter. The thought made me preternaturally sad.
My lungs filled with cool air when I sighed.
I thought forward through my day, from the visit with my parents to the pit tonight where I’d see Val.
A bet. On the last girl I would have chosen.
Not because I didn’t want her. With that smile, that body? If I’d met her anywhere but work, I’d have asked her out already. But girls like her weren’t meant for guys like me. I went after the girls who knew exactly what they were getting and exactly what they weren’t. The girls I couldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t hurt with my disinterest in a relationship.
A girl like Val needed a guy she could take home to meet her parents. A guy who’d buy her flowers and binge-watch Jane Austen movies. A guy who’d treat her right.
