Page 19 of A Fool's Game

I arrive in the break room for lunch red eyed, exhausted, and bleeding in several places where I sliced my fingers.

“You need a Band-Aid or two?” comes a gruff voice from beside me right before a plate containing a turkey sandwich slams down on the table.

“Oh, that’s okay. I prefer to watch myself bleed. Miracle of science and whatnot,” I answer without looking up from my phone.

Taylor huffs. “It wasn’t a question, asshole. You have to wear Band-Aids and gloves if you have open cuts.”

“Well, you need to work on your enunciation then. When your tone lilts up at the end, it signals a question. Like this?”

He tosses a stack of wrapped bandages next to my untouched plate without bothering to answer.

I slide the plate away and start unwrapping one.

“Lunch not up to your standards today?” he says finally, lifting the edge of my plate and letting it drop back onto the table with a thud.

“I’m full of onion fumes.”

A snort of laughter. “It’s not that bad. Don’t be such a baby.”

I want to cut back at him with something clever, but the exhaustion from my day in soup prep, the last few days of work, and the still haunting memories of my attack on Christmas come crashing down on me in one giant wave.

I pocket the remaining bandages and stand, taking my plate and starting toward the exit into the prep kitchen.

“Hey,” Taylor calls after me. “You gotta learn to take a joke, rich boy.”

I make my escape without pausing.

Thankfully, I survive the rest of my shift without anotherasshole encounter. He signs off on my hours, barely glancing up from his paperwork.

“Hope you saved some onions for tomorrow,” is his only remark as I push through the door of his office.

I walk home instead of calling a car, even though I know better—and should have learned my lesson the other night. I just can’t stand the idea of being in an enclosed space with another human right now. I need air and wide-open space to settle my mind.

Because my mind isn’t doing so well.

Between the attack, which left me more shaken than I want to admit to anyone—especially my father, the community service hours I have to push through to make my stupid mistake go away, and the fact that my last quarter of undergrad is staring me down like a taunt, I feel heavy. Confused. What are you going to do with your life, Ainsley?

And then there’s the girl.

I hate that she’s taking up so much of my mental energy, but it’s impossible to deny. It was less than two hours of my life, and yet I can’t get over it. She was just so…I don’t even know the word. Perfect? Too cliche. Amazing? Not nearly strong enough to describe her. Mysterious? That’s getting a little closer.

Maybe transformative? Because that’s how the time we spent together felt. Like taking a good, long look at myself in a mirror. And liking what I see there. That’s not something I’m used to.

I’ve talked myself out of walking by her house every day this week, not wanting to overstep any boundaries and ruin my chances with her. She told me to call. She did not say to randomly stop by her house.

As a matter of fact, she said the exact opposite at first,refusing to tell me where she lived so that I wouldn’t show up and embarrass her. Or myself.

I could look her up. I know her first name. I’m sure my dad or Martha, the estate manager, would have record of her last name. I could find her on Facebook or hang around the English department buildings hoping she walks by.

But somehow, none of that feels right.

Something about our encounter was so serendipitous. I have the strangest feeling that if I try to force it, some of the magic will be lost.I mean, come on. A mysterious woman from my past shows up at the same bar I’m drinking alone in on Christmas day. We have a serious connection—I find a fortune telling card on the ground for god’s sake—and then on the way home I get mugged and lose her number.

It’s like I’m living in a damn romantic comedy film.

But trying to decide what choices my character should make to help things turn out in his favor is making my head hurt again.So I settle for a beer, a crappy sci-fi movie, and bed before it even gets dark.

I do have more onions waiting for me in the morning.

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