Page 27 of Play Along With Me
I choke on my water. Jake looks slightly embarrassed but also undeniably curious about my answer. Are they doing this to me on purpose?
"I wasn't—" I begin, then reconsider my denial strategy. It clearly isn't working. "Fine. I was checking him out. Sue me. Have you seen him? It's like someone designed a human being using only the 'tall, tan, and handsome' filter."
Jake's ears turn pink, which is both adorable and deeply satisfying.
"But," I continue, "if you want my professional character assessment, I'd say he seems... grounded. Not easily rattled." I think about how he handled the apartment mix-up withCollin, how he responded to my weird knock-knock joke without making me feel like an idiot. "He doesn't make other people's awkwardness about him, which is rare."
The table has gone oddly quiet, and I realize I've veered from sarcasm into sincerity, which feels too vulnerable suddenly.
"Also," I add quickly, "he failed to recognize a diabetic cat emergency when confronted with one, so clearly his veterinary knowledge is subpar."
That breaks the tension, everyone laughing as Jake shakes his head in mock shame.
"I'll work on that," he promises solemnly. "Can't have cat medical ignorance holding back my career."
"See, this is what I look for in my clients," Ryan says, gesturing between Jake and me. "The ability to take feedback constructively."
The conversation shifts to Jake's practice performance, with Kevin offering technical observations that go completely over my head. I tune out slightly, studying Jake while he's distracted by the discussion.
It's not just his obvious physical appeal that's interesting—though there's plenty there to appreciate. It's the way he listens intently when others speak, the economy of his movements, the sense that he's fully present in every moment. In my bartending experience, most attractive men coast by on their looks, never developing actual personalities because they've never needed to. Jake seems different—like someone who's worked for everything he has.
Plus, he hasn't mentioned his "macros" or used the phrase "crushing it" once during dinner, which already puts him leagues ahead of most men I meet.
"Audrey has a cat named Mr. Darcy," Jake mentions during a lull in the hockey talk, causing all eyes to turn to me.
"After the Jane Austen character," I clarify. "Not to be confused with Mr. Whiskers, the fictional diabetic cat I invented earlier."
"Pride and Prejudice fan?" Mike asks.
"More of a Colin Firth in a wet shirt fan, but yes, the book is also good," I admit.
"My wife teaches English literature," Mike says, surprising me. He doesn't seem like the type to be married to an academic. "She makes me watch that BBC adaptation at least once a year."
"The mark of a healthy marriage," I nod approvingly.
"What about you, Audrey?" Ryan asks. "Kevin mentioned you're a writer?"
"Aspiring writer," I correct. "Currently more aspiring than writing, to be honest."
"Audrey bartends at the Liberty Hotel," Kevin explains. "Best Manhattan in Boston."
"And what do you write?" Jake asks, seeming genuinely interested.
"Fiction, mostly. I'm working on a novel about a woman who can see people's deepest regrets floating above their heads like thought bubbles." I rarely talk about my writing with strangers, but something about the casual atmosphere makes it feel safe.
"That's a fascinating premise," Jake says. "So she can see what people wish they'd done differently?"
"Exactly. It's both a gift and a curse—knowing things about people they might not even admit to themselves."
"I'd read that," Ryan says, surprising me again. These sports management guys are more well-rounded than I gave them credit for.
"Well, it needs to exist first," I say with a self-deprecating laugh. "Currently it's more of a collection of first chapters than an actual book."
"You'll finish it," Jake says with unexpected conviction. "You've got the whole concept mapped out; you just need to push through."
I'm both touched and slightly unnerved by his confidence in me, a near-stranger. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I know something about working toward a goal that seems just out of reach," he says with a small smile.
