Page 14 of Playing For Keeps

Her stupid inner monologue refused to shut up about the idea of him more and more as the week progressed. Every message flickering across her screen pulled her deeper into the hole she was digging. Farren found out he was actually pretty funny. Sweet too.

So, although it took her a few hours to shut the rational part of her brain up, she did finally say yes to him. Her sneakers slapped against the sidewalk as she walked the distance from the Metro stop, whispering to herself how stupid it was, how she should have gotten an Uber. Now she was going to show up flushed and sweaty. It did nothing for the nerves skittering under her skin, an irritation that wouldn’t abate.

He was there when she arrived, looking cool and collected compared to her frazzled mess. Unfairly good looking, his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, and god, something in her stomach flipped right over. She’d been surprised when she saw the sign outside, more so when she stepped inside, given how Sebastian didn’t seem like the type for ping pong—or the purposefully distressed and eccentric energy of the space. He was tight-laced, removed from trends and the stream of society pushing people along. No way was he a hipster.

They delved a little deeper, scratching the surface of what she realized was probably a touchy subject for both of them: family. Farren couldn’t forget the look he got on his face when she asked about who he had to look out for him. Or the relief sagging across his body when the server interrupted to take their order and he didn’t have to answer.

She tucked it away for later, scavenging for little bits of him to keep.

They ate their pizza and conversed easily about inconsequential things, but it lightened her spirits, nonetheless. Sebastian seemed to relax more and more as time went on, and she realized he must have been nervous about this as well, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

Farren was scared of falling.

If she said something to put him off, or they turned out incompatible… well those were easier to deal with compared to the threat of wanting to let him in. She was friendly, approachable in an easy way. Only her close friends knew how surface-level it all was. Even after years, Corinne still examined her with an inscrutable look on her face sometimes, as if trying to piece together why Farren was the way she was. After this long, she’d learned not to ask.

Farren didn’t dwell. So what if she had trouble staying grounded? So what if her last relationship ended because he wanted to meet her family and she realized he was in so much deeper than she would probably ever be?

But Sebastian cracked jokes, dove for the tiny white ball with all intent of winning despite them both playing abysmally, and it was endearing. He was so clearly outside his comfort zone for her, and Farren wasn’t immune. No matter how much the part of her that valued self-preservation wanted her to be.

They both took turns losing, though it had little to do with skill this time, and her sides ached with laughter by the time they decided to take a break. He’d unbuttoned the top of his shirt, his hair a little mussed from playing, and it was damn sexy in a repressed kind of way. It reminded her of the historical romances she used to read as a teenager, going through her Keira Knightley/Pride and Prejudice phase—where the mere mention of a bare ankle or soaked shirt would practically send the characters into vapors.

So, her cheeks were a little hot at the image of him disheveled, and she tried to ignore why. She wondered how much messier she could get his hair if she ran her hands through it while they kissed.

When he rolled his sleeves up over his forearms, it became a little ridiculous. There was no reason such an innocuous action should entice her. Again, she wondered at how he managed to look so strong when she knew he worked a desk job. He didn’t say a word about the gym, and most guys would have been all over that. Then again, Sebastian wasn’t like the guys she usually found herself with.

Farren attracted disasters. As a disaster herself, she recognized the signs. Disasters were easier to step away from, simple. When you dated guys who were bigger messes than you were, you could content yourself with knowing you were “good for them” and you left them slightly better off than when you found them.

Like with Travis, who she followed from New Hampshire to Jersey (because living in New York City was too expensive but he had big dreams of making it as an actor.) At twenty, she’d been starry-eyed enough for both of them. Farren spent those few months bolstering his confidence, his biggest cheerleader. It worked until it didn’t. The haze faded. Farren realized she hated living with four other people in a six-story walk-up and having her boyfriend out most evenings and weekends.

Then there was Aarón. When she broke up with Travis, she’d needed a place to live. Aarón had one. His apartment was listed on Craigslist (back when it was dodgy but still got used), and she just wanted out. The two of them danced around each other for quite a while. They made it almost a year once they were official, including a move to D.C. for his work before they couldn’t cut it anymore.

His family wanted more for him, and he succumbed under that pressure. At twenty-two, she wasn’t ready. So, she bowed out.

There’d been more scrapes over the years. This past year was the driest of the lot. Maybe she was growing up. Maybe her disaster magnet broke. She could only hope because she couldn’t afford another mess, but Farren wasn’t sure she was ready for the real thing either.

Sebastian asked whether he could get her a drink, and this time, she opted for something alcoholic. The man had her flustered and reminiscing about her crappy love life. She needed something more substantial to dull the edge of her thoughts. He joined her; the copper cup of his Mule frosted with condensation. She opted for a daiquiri. Sweeter drinks were always her preference.

They were two drinks in, sitting at one of the booth tables, and she could see the sun doing its lazy stretch over the horizon through the windows. Her tongue felt loose enough to get her into trouble, and she didn’t bother trying to filter herself.

“So, is this a date?” Farren asked, strawberry-tinged alcohol warming her chest.

Sebastian choked on his sip, recovering quickly to give her a quizzical look, considering her question before answering.

“Yes. Yes, I hope it is.”

His answer surprised her a little. A shiver shot up through her body, icy drink in hand and the fist of desire settling low in her abdomen.

“You’re single then?” It sounded stupid, should have been redundant. Farren hoped someone in a relationship wouldn’t be taking her out on dates. But she’d been bitten before.

“Yes. You?” He took another sip of his drink, and for once, Farren wondered what he’d look like under the beard. Would his cheeks be as flushed as hers probably were?

“Yeah.”

Play it cool, Farren. Don’t shoot your mouth off.

“It’s been a while,” she said.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why did she go and admit that? Now she looked all pathetic and weird. Little anecdotes from others—voices from her past—floated into her head, berating her for making herself seem too available, too desperate, too lonely. Small town boys could be really cruel. Between being fat and a blonde, it was like she was a walking target for sharp remarks about laziness and stupidity. She cursed herself for not being able to act more aloof, for always being too quick on the draw.

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