Page 9 of Playing For Keeps

“Really, it’s okay. You earned it. It clearly meant a lot to you.” Farren urged him to accept it by reaching the bag further out toward him. His large hand wrapped around the bottom of the bag, a light grip to keep from smushing it. “But I’m expecting you to keep to the other part of the deal.” She tried to sound stern.

He gave her a solemn nod.

“It starts at seven, same place next Friday. If something comes up or if you have any questions, you have my number.” Farren pointed at the black ink on the bag, and Sebastian inspected it in his hand.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then?” he asked as he stepped down from the stool, looking between Farren and the door.

“Sounds good.”

Sebastian started toward the door, no more than two steps away when Farren spoke again, unable to let go of the stolen moment with him. It seemed to suck the world out and leave her in a bubble of competition, excitement, and the faint, familiar scent of the woods.

“Hey, Sebastian!” It wasn’t quite a shout, but enough to draw his attention back to her. “It was nice meeting you.”

He seemed to glitch, his eyes blinking as if he had trouble computing what she’d said. “It was nice meeting you too, Farren. I’ll see you Friday.” His smile was brighter than she’d seen it all night, plush lips stretching over white teeth, and her answering one stretched her cheeks.

He gave a little wave and then escaped into the evening, walking by the cafe with one last look through the window before he disappeared from view.

Farren made her way back to the line at the register in a little bit of a daze, hunger slowly seeping into the cotton wool fuzz that was her brain. She stepped up to the counter when it was her turn, placing an order for a Monte Cristo after how delicious it looked in Sebastian’s hand, and another hot chocolate.

She rejoined her friends at their table, order number in hand, and when she sat down, four sets of eyes turned to her with unspoken questions.

Corinne, predictably, was the first to launch into questioning.

“So?” she asked, dragging out the vowel, punctuating it with a raised eyebrow and a gleeful glint to her eye.

“So, his name is Sebastian,” Farren said, still trying to absorb everything that had happened. In the last few years of gaming, of meeting new people in this very cafe, she’d never been as off-balance as right in this moment.

“And?” Luis joined in.

“And he’s kind of nice.” A server placed her hot chocolate in front of her, and Farren took a sip that seared the front edge of her tongue.

“When do you see him again?” Braxton asked.

“Next Friday, at game night.” The words came out a little jumbled, each syllable tripping over the last as she rushed through the answer. They must have been able to make it out though because the table erupted into an excited little whoop and a bunch of follow up questions.

Farren answered, her mind only partially engaged in what was happening around her.

The smile he gave her as he was leaving didn’t make her feel like he was opposed to their deal; for someone who lost, he seemed way more chipper than when they first met.

Her friends finished out the games for the night, and Farren lost every single one, but somehow, she didn’t mind. She was already looking forward to the next game night. Corinne tried to pump her for more information, but she’d divulged mostly everything she knew—the relevant parts, of course.

Farren didn’t mention how his scent clung to her memory, something she knew she’d be thinking about for a while even if this went nowhere. Even if she saw him next week and then never again. Somehow, she knew his aroma would be hard to forget. She neglected to mention how tethered she felt when he looked at her like he was paying attention, as if he saw her.

Farren kept those close to the chest. Later that night, in the comfort of her apartment with the window unit rattling on low, she stared up at the shadowy ceiling waiting for sleep which refused to come. Her phone buzzed, dancing across her bedspread, and when his text came through:

Hi. It’s Ian.

Sebastian.

Just checking the number works.

…she kept that to herself as well.

Sebastian definitely didn’t “wait up” for her text that night, he was just up late folding laundry. Nor did he feel a frisson of something in his chest when she did respond. Those few black words on the brightly lit phone screen didn’t mean anything.

Neither did the few that came his way the next day, and he especially didn’t smile or laugh when she sent him silly memes and TikTok videos, appalled when she heard he’d never ventured over to the “clock app.” In Sebastian’s mind, it was for teenagers, the youths, the Gen-Z’ers who seemed to discover some facet of 90’s culture every week as if it were something new.

No, he was stoic. Sebastian was a paragon of indifference.

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