Page 50 of Playing the Field
“But a job full of hot soccer players must blunt the blow a little bit.” Tatum should know. She’s been engaged to Donovan Taylor, a star player for the San Francisco Strikers soccer team, for a while now. We met in grad school, where we both studied computer science. She works for a virtual reality company and, a few years ago, she was put in charge of building a soccer game featuring Strikers players as avatars. This is where my knowledge of soccer started and ended, and Tatum has always been fine with that.
I’ve been needing the companionship of a friend who really knows me since I arrived in town. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, pointedly ignoring the opportunity to tell her about Hunter, mainly because his reaction this morning was so confusing that I’m not sure what to say about him.
Until I talk to him, I’ll say nothing.
The view from the roof deck is exactly what I need after weeks holed up at my desk analyzing player stats and game footage. Looking toward the ocean, I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment to feel the breeze on my skin.
At the table next to ours, three guys laugh a little too loudly, and I wonder if they’re trying to get our attention. I’m never good at sensing these things. Maybe they’re just loud. “You ladies here for dinner?” one of them asks.
I turn to look at him, noting his blond hair combed neatly over his forehead and the clean shave. He’s nice looking enough, but after spending so much time with my rougher, unshaven roommate, I realize my tastes have changed. I find myself checking his arms for tattoos, and when I see none, I’m even more disinterested.
“No, just having some girl time. Catching up, doing our thing,” Tatum says before turning in her chair to more squarely face me. The guy’s face falls, but he gets the hint.
I raise an eyebrow. “Just killed a man’s dreams, right there,” I say quietly.
She shrugs. “They needed killing. You and I have soccer players to keep us warm at night.”
“Speak for yourself, sister.”
“Oh, come on. I can tell when you’re hedging. A month ago, you told me Kyler’s soccer star friend moved in, and then you clammed up about him for weeks. I know what that means in Gracie-speak. You and Hunter have something going, just admit it.”
“How? How do you know these things?”
She snorts a laugh. “Just tell me about Hunter.”
I take a big swig of my drink and tell her everything about last night. The timing of her visit couldn’t be more perfect because I actually need a download with a friend who can help me figure out how to navigate this new situation.
If it even is a situation.
“But then, it got really awkward this morning, and we haven’t had a chance to talk it through. So basically, that’s it.” I want to say more, but I snap my lips shut like I need a physical barrier to keep from oversharing.
“I’m afraid I’m gonna need more details,” Tatum singsongs as though this is all a juicy story and I’m holding out to build tension or something.
I sip my drink, which, when combined with the one last night, is more alcohol than I’ve had since that evening when Hunter introduced me to scotch. And now my thoughts are back on him.
“Come on. It’s me, Gracie. You know I don’t judge, and I can tell you’re holding stuff in. Maybe it’ll feel good to let it out.”
I drain the last third of my drink and feel the warming effects of the tequila. Liquid courage I shouldn’t need with my friend. “I don’t know why it makes me so nervous to talk about him.”
Tatum orders two more drinks. “Can I get you some bar snacks or anything to go with your drinks?” our server asks. I note that his voice is easily an octave higher than Hunter’s low rasp, and there I go, thinking about him again. Apparently, I’m not capable of stopping.
“Bar snacks. Absolutely,” I say, looking around and spying a chips and guacamole platter that would do a good job of absorbing some of the tequila from my margarita. I order that along with truffle fries, making all of my fried carb dreams come true. Tatum adds a plate of tuna tartare, and now we’re basically set for the rest of the evening.
“You’re staying here with me tonight, so don’t even think about turning me down,” Tatum says. I’m all set to tell her I need to be at Kyler’s, but then I take another look at the blue Pacific and decide this is what my soul needs. Time with a good friend. A hotel room with a spectacular view. Some time to think about Hunter and what to say to him when I get back.
“Okay. Not gonna argue.”
“Great. I hear they have fluffy white robes in the room. We can wear those later and order latenight room service. It’ll be like when we were in the dorms, only without the crappy cafeteria food and the fraternity guys next door.”
Another night in a hotel, this one equally awesome with its view of the ocean and proximity to the beach. How is this my life?
Two months ago, I was licking my wounds over torpedoing my job and my life in the Bay Area, and now I’m in a gorgeous place with gorgeous people, and my heart feels full.
I smile at the memory of our college years, grateful to have Tatum here. “So tell me again why you came without Donno?” The exhibition game between the Devils and the Strikers isn’t for a couple weeks, so I know she didn’t travel from San Francisco for that.
“I have some business here next week.” She dismisses it with a flick of her hand like it’s nothing, but the woman is the head of product development at a billion-dollar company, and she’s solely responsible for growing its virtual reality gaming division into the powerhouse it is.
“So in other words, you’re meeting with…”
