Page 66 of Facing Off
Her eyes flick up and down as if noting my stooped posture. Then her head inclines. “That’s my name.”
My smile takes so much effort, my cheeks ache. I’m also trying to sit straighter. “What are you doing here?”
If possible, my question trips her up as if she wasn’t expecting to be asked that. Her lips part, then close. She blinks a few times. “Nothing. I was going for a walk. Spotted you and stopped…for no reason.”
Before I can say anything, she shifts her weight from one foot to another. “Oh yeah, and Quinn told me about the loss tonight.”
Despite my best efforts, I feel my smile partiallydissolve. “Pretty sure most of the city knows about it considering how badly we bombed.”
“Well then,” says Sonya.
“Yup.”
I expect her to walk away, since that’s been her M.O. for a while now. We’ve been exchanging brief words in passing, and recently? She hasn’t come to any of our games, so I haven’t seen her at all.
Sonya keeps staring at me. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but her mouth tugs down further. Grumbling something under her breath, she sits down next to me. When a container of fries is brought out from her takeout bag, my eyes widen and my stomach plummets.
Any other day, I’d be fucking elated by this. Maybe this could’ve been the perfect time to tell her that I can’t stop thinking about her. About the fact that I haven’t been able to fuck anyone for a while. And there doesn’t seem to be a cure, but does she have any idea?
But no. I can’t say it, since I feel like garbage. Exposed and lost. My hand scrubs down my face and my foot taps erratically on the pavement.
Get it together.Sulking is ugly and selfish.Especially because you don’t deserve to complain about anything.Not with the life you have.
My chest jerks unevenly, before expanding out. “Hey, Sonya.”
“What?”
“A rough and tough hockey player finishes his drink at a bar and gets up to leave. A minute later, he’s back and telling everyone he’s going to have one more drink, but they have to use his hockey stick to?—”
She pokes my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Wait for the punch line. It’s a funny joke.” One I’ve told enough times, I can repeat it without thinking too hard.
“Yeah, I bet,” she mutters. “But why are you telling it to me?”
Isn’t it obvious? “You’ll laugh.”
Her mouth twitches as she lifts an eyebrow. “When have you ever heard me laugh before?”
I shrug, trying to smile at her again. To smirk. To wink. Anything better than the bone-weary exhaustion that must be written on my face. “I mean, you’ll press your mouth together all tight like when you’re pretending you’re not amused.”
She picks up a fry. “Pass.”
Now I’m frowning. “Pass?”
“Yeah, I didn’t sit here to hear any bad jokes.”
Ouch. “Okay, then why are you here, darling?”
More defeat pinches my chest. Because why did I ask her that? We’re sitting, finally alone, the glow of the city twinkling all around us. I should see if she wants to grab a beer at the closest pub. Or invite her for a walk on the Seawall. At this time of night, the sunset is beautiful and paints the water pastel.
“I’m here…” She demolishes a few more fries. “Because I’m…hungry. And I need a place to eat.”
Why does she sound like she’s lying?
“Or you love my company, darling.” My chuckle is weak, but it’s a start.
She doesn’t even bother looking at me, digging out another fry. “Nope.”
