Page 46 of Playing the Field
“Look at you, a dog lover. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, come on. You know I love Bogie. He and I are buds. He’s responsible for me being able to sort of throw a tennis ball now.”
“I know you love him. I’m just saying you’ve come a long way from the wary girl who thought Bogie was plotting to kill you in your sleep.”
I take a sip of coffee from a large yellow mug with a daisy painted on the side. “Wow, that’s good.” I’ve said the same thing the past three times I’ve taken a sip, and Hunter seems more amused every time. “Fine. I’ll admit I had my doubts about Bogie, but he’s pretty easy to love.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Yeah? Is that true for you and your dad too?”
The temperature in the room shifts as soon as I ask the question and realize I may have overstepped. Hunter goes pale, and I sit up straight, immediately backpedaling. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy.”
He holds up a hand. “It’s okay. My dad died a handful of years ago, and he was…tough. Turned me into a force on the field, though. I gotta give him credit for that.”
“I’m sorry you lost him.” She presses her lips together, asthough debating whether to say more. Curiosity wins. “Was he your coach?”
“Unofficially. He encouraged me to play into my strengths, acting like a brute asshole, starting fights, pushing people away, using my muscles instead of my brain. He was right, I guess. I made a career of it.”
I hate hearing him describe himself this way, and without thinking, I reach for his hand. He starts to pull away, as though to protect himself from emotion, but then he seems to give in. I like that he trusts me enough to do it.
The stiffness in his fingers gives way to my grip. “You do see that the player on the field is only a small part of who you are, right? I certainly don’t see you that way.”
Swallowing hard, he chokes out his words. “Sure you do. It’s why you told Coach to keep me on the team.”
I shake my head. “Because it’s how you play. Not because it’s who you are.” I lock eyes with him, willing him to believe me. After a silent moment, he nods, letting go of my hand. Then he changes the subject, and I leave it alone.
It’s a reminder that I have no business treating him like he’s my new boyfriend and trying to learn about his family. He came to my rescue on a bad blind date, and I had an unforgettable night, but I don’t want to pretend it’s more than it is.
I tell myself to keep things light and superficial, but the idea of that makes me lose my appetite.
I should be starving since I skipped dinner last night, but I can’t make a dent in the pancakes. Hunter has declared today his cheat day, so he’s already chewed through half of his stack.
“Something tells me you’re back to overthinking.” He gestures to the uneaten pancakes. I make a meager effort to move the top pancake off the stack and cut it into bites, but I only put a tiny piece in my mouth. Looking down as I chew, I try to convince myself that I’m good with our hookup. Trying to talk about it will only make things feel weird.
“I’m okay,” I say.
He points an accusing finger. “Liar.”
“Fine. I’m thinking a little. I want you to know we’re good. I mean, last night was something I’ll probably remember until the end of days, but I’m not delusional. I can’t put my job at risk, and I know we were a ‘right time and place’ situation. I’m not expecting anything.”
Hunter puts down his fork and finishes chewing the bite in his mouth. The creases deepen on his forehead. “I wouldn’t exactly refer to us as a ‘situation.’ That sounds like one step away from a problem.”
I take a moment to assess the man sitting across the tiny stained wood table from me.
“I didn’t mean to sound dismissive. I mean, I’m so grateful to you for rescuing me from my awful date and for showing me such a good time last night. I don’t want to sound unappreciative for you doing me that favor, and like I said, I had an amazing time?—”
Hunter reaches for my hand, which is flailing wildly holding a fork. It surprises me enough that I stop my monologue. The creases don’t disappear from his forehead, but Hunter puffs out a breath. “Okay.” It sounds like he’s agreeing, but I’m not sure what he’s agreeing to do.
“O-kay…?”
“Yes. If you think that last night was just me doing you a favor to keep you out of the mitts of Captain Blake, then go ahead and delude yourself.”
“Well…wasn’t it?”
Hunter drops my hand, and my skin goes cold. His tone stings.
He picks up his fork and stabs at his pancakes. Then, he puts a large bite into his mouth and chews slowly. I wait, hoping he’ll say more after he swallows, but instead, he reaches for his water glass and drinks it down.
