Page 33 of The Bright Side of Brooding
“Why on earth are you smiling when we’re arguing?”
I sobered, erasing all traces of the stupid, simple joy of her saying my name.Good grief, what a sucker. “No reason.”
“Seriously.”
I said nothing, did nothing, and avoided all possibleanythingthat would further stoke her ire.
After a beat of silence between us and only the rough breaths from Arturo and a periodic clinking from Rob as the soundtrack, she sighed. “I’m paying you back for this.”
“No. You’re not payingmeanything. The team bought the ticket.”
“What? I—I thought that…” She ran a hand through her long hair. “Never mind that. I’m going to earn it, then.”
“Of course you are. You’re acting as our medical person, and depending on how things go, that could be pretty involved. This isn’t a handout. It’s part of the contract you signed.”
I waited, hoping maybe this—the news that it wasn’t frommethat her ticket had come, but from our team—would quell her upset.
She blinked rapidly, then looked around the gym. Anywhere but at me, until finally, she gave me her eyes. And like every other time she’d done it, my stomach flipped. I swallowed, then stepped closer and spoke in a low voice, uninterested in Rob and Art getting any more of a front row seat than they already had.
“We’re glad you’re on the team. I hope you can accept the ticket as a part of the agreement. You can review the contract, and you’ll see we’re obligated to provide travel and accommodations. You can’t argue that, either, because we’re all sharing a rented place.” Might as well cut that argument off before it started.
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. My attention hung there, on the upper curve of her lip, her cupid’s bow. When my gaze found hers again, the temperature between us had risen out of the sub-zero depths. I clutched at the self-control I’d carefully cultivated over a lifetime in order to refrain from backing her up against the wall of the garage and kissing her.
She cleared her throat. “We’ll talk about this some other time.”
I shook my head once. “We’re done talking about this.”
She huffed out a small breath. If she had something else to say, she left it unsaid, to my regret. She turned and departed out the side door, leaving me full of questions.
After a beat, I inhaled focus, then exhaled distraction, working to recenter myself on the here and now. On Art and Rob. On everything we had to do to set them up for success next weekend.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think about the odd dynamic of that argument—the thrill of disagreeing with her. The strange pleasure I got from seeing her flushed and irritated. What did that say about me?
* * *
That evening, once the guys had left and I’d cleaned up, I knocked on Summer’s door. I knew before I did that she was gone—I’d heard the distinct sound of her car’s engine about an hour ago. I wondered where she’d gone, but we weren’t communicating at all unless in person. I couldn’t text her and ask her—we hadn’t breeched that social barrier.
Since I’d guessed at her being gone, I’d written her a letter. Maybe it made me weak or cowardly, but I found it easiest to share my thoughts with her this way. It might also give her a chance to process things so that if I’d been moving too fast, she’d know she didn’t have to worry. After dissecting the conversation slowly and painfully over the hours after she’d left, it occurred to me that maybe she thoughtIbought her ticket. Like, as a date. Or something.
So I wanted to set that record very straight. After mentioning the contract, she seemed to get it a bit more clearly. Still, I didn’t want her feeling pressured or like I had expectations of her just because we’d kissed.
So I left her a letter on her porch and wandered back to cuddle up with Butter for the night.
* * *
Summer,
After we talked, I realized you might have been thinking I personally bought you the ticket. I can understand how that would be upsetting and create an uncomfortable dynamic between us and also for the team. I want to be very clear: we purchased the ticket, like we would have for anyone acting as our medical team member, as a team. The same is true for the rented apartment where you’ll have a room and a certain allowance during the trip to cover food. This is partially funded by sponsors of the team and partially by dues, so please don’t fret over these details. You’ll be able to come with us feeling obligated only to do the job you agreed to do. You will not be beholden to me or anyone else for anything else.
I apologize for taking so long to understand the implications of the ticket sent from my e-mail. As coach, I make the travel and accommodation reservations. Please forgive me for causing any confusion and for failing to immediately address your concern—I truly did not realize you might’ve thought I’d purchased the ticket personally.
I am planning to drive to the airport and am happy to have you join me. The other three live in different towns, so they’ll be getting their own transportation. That said, if you’re more comfortable driving yourself, please do so.
I’ve listed my phone number below. I hope you’ll use it now, or later—whenever you like. Please let me know if you’d like a ride before Thursday at 20:00. Until then, have a great week,
Nick
