Page 47 of Playing For Keeps

“We love you too, hon. You keep us updated as well! I hope to meet your Farren soon,” she said, and Sebastian’s heart seemed to stutter at the words: your Farren.

“I hope so too. I’ll—uh—I’ll check in soon.”

“See ya, kiddo.”

The line clicked, and the call ended.

Sebastian stared at his phone for maybe two breaths before he tried calling her number. Two seconds to decide he wanted her in his life for real. Two seconds to acknowledge what a stupid asshole he’d been. The rest of the time was spent building up the courage to say what was on his mind.

It rang.

And rang.

Then finally.

“Hi, you’ve reached Farren! I’m sorry I missed your call. Please feel free to text me if it’s urgent. Have a great day!”

When he tried it again, it was more of the same. The third time he called, it didn’t even ring, cutting straight to the voicemail message, and Sebastian realized it wasn’t just as simple as acknowledging his feelings or saying sorry. He’d hurt her and would do what it took to prove himself and his love for her. No matter what.

Farren hated feeling like a cliche. Stupid girl crying on the way home, sobbing on the couch. Sniffling all fucking weekend. She’d refrained from the stereotypical tub of ice cream because there was none in the freezer, and he’d kind of ruined the allure of the coffee shop’s pastries. Farren didn’t even call Corinne until Sunday night, and although her friend offered to come over with a bottle of wine, it was a school night, so she declined. Despite what Sebastian thought, she did take her job seriously. Even if it wasn’t one with a ladder to climb, even if it wasn’t a “career.”

So what if it wasn’t typical? She wasn’t typical.

Farren returned to school, throwing herself into the task of shaping young minds, even if just for a few days. If she could be a safe place, a kind smile to a kid… If she could make them feel seen and important, it was enough for her. Farren wanted to be the person she never had and so sorely needed. It wasn’t so much giving up on a dream. Dreams were fun and sweet distractions from real-world hurts. She was putting aside one goal for something more realistic, more grounded.

Time passed like it inevitably did, marked by darkened days and cold leaking into her apartment through the bad seal around old windows and under the door frames. Time marched on, punctuated by messages from Sebastian that she deleted before she could read them. She was done with men that did nothing but hurt her. Farren was tired of feeling like she wasn’t good enough and like saying her feelings out loud were wrong. Dating would not be on her radar, not for a long while.

Loneliness was an old friend, one with sharp elbows that dug into her skin as it settled beside her. Nights with her friends alleviated some of the ache. Corinne must have prepped them because no one mentioned Farren’s puffy eyes or how she seemed to lose more often than usual. She stayed longer, the group dwindling until it was just her, Corinne, Luis, and Chris. Chris pulled out Planet, the big blue box a welcome distraction from her dark apartment and his lingering scent on the other side of the bed.

This was Farren’s first chance to play it, and she was eager to try it out given how tactile the game was. They held their planets in their hands, each with a specific ecological goal in mind, collecting animals to inhibit their worlds as the pieces dwindled with each round. Pentagons of nature slotted perfectly into each of the twelve spaces on her orb, held in place by magnets. By the end, they each had a unique earth.

Farren’s was mostly made up of ice, interspersed with azure oceans and a few vibrant forests. She rolled the planet between her hands, loving the game's interactive nature and how singular it felt. It made her think of her own idea, little cutouts housed in an old box, gathering dust since the last time she worked on it with Sebastian.

The game would benefit from being more than just a board game. Perhaps there was a way they could elevate it. Maybe it might work in another format as—

No.

There was no “they,” and there was no use tinkering.

She didn’t win Planet either, but it was a fun way to lose. It barely felt like a failure when she held the proof of her efforts cradled in her grasp, like a god. Farren thanked her friends and wrapped herself in her coat and scarf, ready to retreat again.

Corinne wouldn’t be deterred, and Farren should have expected it. There was no way her friend would let her get away with saying nothing. She could only dodge so many calls and change the subject so many times. Corinne was stubborn, like a freaking ankle-biter of a dog in a tug-of-war.

“You and me. Wine. Either at your place or a bar, but it’s happening. I won’t take no for an answer.” She stood in front of Farren, the door to the outside chill a few feet away.

“Corinne, please. I’m tired.” Bone-tired. Too tired to pretend anymore.

“It’s Friday. No work tomorrow. No more avoiding me. We’re doing this, so either pick or I’ll pick for you.” It should have been intimidating, but Corinne was freaking tiny. Still, Farren relented.

“Bar. I haven’t cleaned.” She grabbed her purse from the table, slinging it over her shoulder and waiting for her friend to collect herself.

“You know I don’t care about that. You’ve been dealing with a lot.” Corinne patted her arm, and Farren knew she was telling the truth, but it still didn’t matter.

“I care. But whatever. Let’s go get that drink.” So I can get you off my back.

Luis kissed Corinne on the way out, headed toward their car, their daughter waiting back home with his mother. A short walk later, Corinne and Farren, freezing their butts off, made their way into an Irish-themed bar, pub, whatever. It was decked out in green and white like a leprechaun spewed over the mahogany wood interiors, and it was deemed a “mood.” The aesthetic was rounded out with a large Irish flag hanging over the bar.

Farren did her little hop up onto the bar stool, the wood top sticky from spilled drinks. Corinne joined her and ordered them each a glass of red. At this point Farren would have preferred shots. The same result, only much quicker and without the stupid wine-headache she got about two glasses in. Apparently, it was a reaction to the tannin or something.

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