Authors: Harper Bentley
Jag
I sit in Coach’s office
unsure about what he’s going to tell me. He keeps one of those stress balls on his desk that’s a baseball with eyes and when he squeezes it the eyes pop out. He’s now squeezing the hell out of it and the eyes bug out grotesquely at me as he looks thoughtfully at me. He finally sets it back on his desk, coughs up some phlegm in his throat and spits it into his trashcan before talking.
“It’s
trade time.” He lets that sit there for a few seconds. “And the Cubs are sniffing around,” he says grumpily. “They want you.”
I look at hi
m, surprised. “The Cubs?” I could be traded to the Cubs? Well, fuck. They’ve been my favorite team since I’ve known what baseball is. My heart starts beating faster as I think about being able to play for my dream team and also about being back home. Closer to El.
“Yep. Whaddya think?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’d consider it.” Although I’m stoked about this, no need getting my hopes up before the deal goes through if it even does.
“Would have to get permission from the Commissioner since you’re injured, but if that’s what you
want we can do it, although I hate to lose you.”
“I know, Coach.
You’ve been awesome to pitch for. But if this is the right move for me, then I’ve gotta take it.”
He nods. “All right. Think
on it for a couple days and lemme know. In the meantime, I’ll keep the wolves at bay.” He chuckles muttering something about teams having “stupid, fucking animals” as their mascots.
I stand and shake his hand carefully making sure not to move my arm too much. It’s already feeling
a little sore from surfing, but it was so worth it. “See ya, Coach,” I say and head home smiling more than I have in a long time.
I call home that night and Mom
and Dad are excited by the news. Mom is so worked up over it she tries talking me into coming home tonight so we can go look at houses tomorrow. I laugh and tell her she’s jumping the gun and that I’ve got another physical therapy session in a couple days, so I can’t be leaving just yet. She then starts crying saying she’s happy I’m coming home, which I again remind her it’s not a done deal. Dad says he wants what’s best for me but hopes it works out.
Next, I call Ross.
“What’s up, crip?” he answers his phone.
“
Not so crippled anymore. I get to start lifting weights in a couple weeks.”
“That’s
good. Glad you’re healing. What’s up?”
“Got some news today.
”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Might be heading back that way to become a Cub,” I tell him.
“Sweet!” he replie
s. He’s a lifelong fan too.
I laugh then
say, “It’s in the works but nothing’s certain right now, so try to keep it under wraps.”
“I’ll try
. You know how I am with secrets, though.”
Yeah, I kno
w. In eighth grade, I’d told him I was going to break up with Anna Prather, and he accidentally told her at a birthday party we were at, so when she confronted me, I had to act like he’d just been teasing because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings in front of everyone. Funny thing was, she was tired of me anyway and broke up with me the next day. When Ross and I were older, I learned to keep my sexual conquests to myself. Being confronted by Bailey Kennon’s dad was enough to turn me into a fucking mute when it came to sharing that shit with him.
“Well, try. And you about ready to be my agent yet?” I’d offered
him several months ago, but he kept putting it off telling me he wasn’t ready and still needed experience at the modeling agency he was interning at. I was afraid he might have been a little scared. Being a sports agent
was
a pretty cutthroat business.
“Gimme another month then we’re on. I’ve been doing some research and talking to other agents, so I think I’ll be ready soon.”
“Holding you to it,” I say.
“Gotcha.”
“Look, I understand you feel unprepared, but it’s okay. Dirk’s threatened taking away some of my endorsements, but I’ve contacted Nike and a couple others myself and it’s cool. So once you start, all you have to do is maintain contact with them and the others and we’re good, okay? Seriously, if I lose any, it’s not a big deal. There’ll be more. I trust you.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
I hear him cough then he says
, “Man, that means a lot to me. Kinda choked me up there. But you’re right, Jag. I’ve been draggin’ my ass ‘cause I don’t wanna fail you. Don’t wanna screw shit up.”
I chuckle. “You’re not gonna screw up anything. Trust me. Here’s what we’ll do. Coach wants me to th
ink about this for a couple days. I’ll wait until Monday and if they’re serious, I’m going. Then you’re hired. Sound good?”
“Sounds good. I just wanna do the best job I can for you.”
“I know. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“I knew I hit the jackpot when I met you in seventh grade,” he says with a chuckle.
“Always nice to be used.” I laugh. “Okay, I’ll get hold of you either Monday night or Tuesday and we’ll go from there.”
“
Man, I can’t believe you’re gonna be a Cub… and never make the postseason.” He snorts.
“Yeah, I know. At least I can keep my expectations low.”
“You know what Jesus said to the Cubs the last time he was on Earth?”
Together we say,
“‘Don’t do anything until I get back,’” then we both laugh.
“I’
m stoked about you coming home!” he says.
“I am too,” I agree. We talk a bit more before hanging up.
I take a deep breath and let it out. If this goes through, I think I can finally get my life in order.
El
My phone rings early the next morning as I’m getting ready for
work and I see it’s a number I don’t know. I hope it’s a telemarketer because I’m in the mood to verbally rip someone to shreds.
“What?” I answer harshly.
“Someone’s not a morning person,” Austin says with a chuckle.
Crap. How’d he get my number?
“Oh.” It’s all I can get out. I inanely cover my chest with my arm because I’ve only got a bra and jeans on then realize I’m being stupid because he can’t see me which makes me roll my eyes.
“So, I’ve been thinking about you,” he informs me.
“Oh.” Again, those great oratory skills of mine shine through.
“Yeah. So I was wanting to know if you’d like to have dinner tonight?”
My head goes back and I stare at the ceiling. Ceiling staring is a side effect of a bad breakup I’ve decided.
W
hile I’m on the topic of breakups, let me just say that I’m as sick of myself as everyone else is. I hate being depressed. I hate being sad. I hate that I feel lost most of the time. Everyone I know who’s been through a breakup tells me it’ll get better. Well, fucking when? When I noticed Austin’s looks yesterday during the massage, I thought maybe that was a turning point but it wasn’t. I’m still the sad sack who broke up with her boyfriend because she didn’t believe him, and I don’t want to be her. God, I want to smile again, to be happy and laugh at stupid shit like when my boss wore our signature polo shirt inside out all day long and none of us bothered telling him. I want to go to lunch with my colleagues and share funny stories that make us all die laughing. I want to be me again.
“Ellen?” I hear Austin say.
“Dinner? Tonight?”
“What?”
“You know, dinner. That thing you do usually in the early evening where you partake of good food and drink?”
Yep
. He’s definitely a funny guy.
“Oh. S
ure.” Ugh. Why does everything take so much energy when you’re depressed? And why do I keep agreeing to do shit with him?
“
Hold the phone. Your enthusiasm is getting to be a little much. Please, get control of yourself because the way you want me so much is beginning to embarrass me.”
I bark out a laugh at his unexpected answer. Definitely funny. “I’m sorry. Yeah, I guess I’m not much of a morning person (lie #1
—kinda), but, yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you tonight (lie #2).” How can I say no to him as nice as he’s being?
“Awesome. Can I pick you up?”
Now this part I’m really not sure about. We’re moving into dangerous territory here. I mean, let’s look at what could happen:
S
cenario 1—He picks me up. We go to dinner. He brings me home. He expects me to invite him in for a drink. After he comes inside, I refuse to partake in any hanky panky. And things go downhill from there. Scenario 2—He picks me up. If things go poorly, I’m stranded. I call Rebecca in tears to come pick me up. I go home and cry into my pillow as per usual. And things go downhill from there. Scenario 3 (which is the worst, by far)—He picks me up. We go to dinner. He regales me with his fabulous personality and sense of humor. He brings me home. I invite him in because I’m tired of being lonely. I jump on him the minute the door closes and things go downhill from there.
“Well…”
“Look, Ellen, I enjoyed your company the other night and I’d like to see you again. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to propose tonight unless you’ve got a lifetime membership to the Beer of the Month Club, then I might be tempted. Otherwise, we’re just two adults going to eat, I pick you up, I drop you off, it’s over. Sound good?”
He’s making this so easy I feel bad for being so bitchy about things. “
Okay. Sounds good. What should I wear?”
“Thought we’d go to Sully’s, so
something kinda nice, I guess.”
“Okay.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Again with the enthusiasm. Please. This stroking of my ego is too much. I might start getting the big head if you don’t stop.”
I can’t help but giggle at this. Poor guy deserves better than what I can give him right now. I’ll have to tell him tonight.
“Text me your address and I’ll see you at seven. Have a great day, beautiful.” And he hangs up.
I shake my head, having no idea how he’s
still even interested in me the way I’ve been acting.
“I need to borrow your LBD,” I tell Rebecca when I get off work. Practically everything dressy that I own, I’ve worn out somewhere with Jag and lord knows I don’t need the reminder.
“Why?” I can hear the suspicion in her voice.
“Because I have a date.” I cringe as I wait for her squeal but it doesn’t come. She must be really tired.
“With Ed?
” Now I hear her try to stifle a yawn.
“Yes. We’re going to Sully’s.”
“Nice! I want all the info when you get home tonight.”
“I’m worried about you,
Bec,” I tell her. “How many hours have you worked now?”
“Seventeen straight. But tomorrow’s Thursday and I’m off, so I’
ll catch up on my sleep. Then you and I are going shopping!”
“I look forward to it as much as I do a good teeth cleaning. Hey, is Ross home or should I just let myself in?”
“He should be there, so I’d call first unless you wanna walk in on him strutting around in his undies.” She chuckles.
“I’ll make sure to call. I’m still scarred from the time I
came out of my room to use the bathroom, and there he was leaving it wearing his ‘It ain’t gonna suck itself’ boxers.”
She lets out a cackle. “Oh, God, I forgot about that. Good thing I moved out, huh? You’d die at his new ones.”
“And you’re dying to tell me what they say.”
“I am
. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“‘Take me to your beaver.’” And now she cracks up.
“Dear God,” I mumble
which makes her laugh even harder.
She and Ross began dating around t
he same time Jag and I did and they’re really cute together. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll marry and have gobs of kids one day. If she wasn’t my best friend, I’d be mega-jealous, but she is and all I can be is happy for them. At one point, I thought the same would happen with Jag and me. They’re just better at staying together, I guess.
“So
rry, I’m kinda punch drunk from lack of sleep, but, yeah, you might wanna call ahead.”
“You can count on it
.”
“You wearing your Jimmy Choo’s?”
“First time. I’m kind of excited.”
“Y
ou sound it.” She chuckles. “Listen, I know you’re tired of hearing it, sweetie, but you’ve got to find a way to move forward. You’re stuck.”
She’s right. It’s been four months and I’ve been stuck in limbo for long enough. “I know. I’ll try harder.”
“That’s my girl. ‘Kay, I’ve gotta go. Hoping I’ve only got a couple more hours to go here then my bed and I are gonna make sweet, sweet love.” She giggles.
I giggle with her. “Love you, Bec,” I say
because I do. She’s got such a beautiful spirit and has always been there for me. Such a great friend.
“Love you too, El. Go make yourself smokin’ hot and have fun makin’ every man in the place wish he was with you.”
I let out a “Pfffttt” as we hang up.
I guess if sad is the new black, I’m in business
.
“Holy fuck.”
I can’t help but smile
at Austin’s reaction when I open the door. I could say the same thing about him. He looks great wearing a black blazer over a gray t-shirt, jeans and boots. Very stylish. His dark hair’s messy in a cool kind of way and he’s got some stubble that’s looking pretty delectable. Gah!
I’m wearing Rebecca’s little black dress that I’ve been dying to borrow. It hits me mid-thigh and is basically
a black lace overlay on a black sheath. It has long sleeves made of lace and a boat neck. I love it. But what I love the most is the back which is open and dips to just below the waistline. It’s very sexy and it makes me feel good about myself. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. My strappy shoes go perfectly with it and I know I’ll have to let Bec borrow them to wear with it. I’ve put my hair up in a messy bun, or what I call the “Bird Nest.” It’s flirty and stylish and I’m feeling more confident than I have in a while.
“You look great
,” I say to Austin. He nods slowly and stares at me. Okay. “I’ll just get my purse.” I turn and walk to the bar and I hear him mumble, “You fucking kidding me?” When I turn back to him after grabbing my purse, the look in his eyes stops me in my tracks. Only one other man has looked at me like that, which would be Jag right before he undressed me. Shit.
“Holy fuck,” he repeats slowly, which makes me swallow roughly. He looks hot and handsome and all alpha macho man and I kind of want to kiss him.
We stand there looking at each other for several seconds. When I lick my lips, it’s like I’ve yanked on a chain that’s around his neck because he’s suddenly on the move toward me, that look still on his face.
Yikes.
The next thing I know, he’s got me backed against the bar with both hands on either side of me. “That’s some dress, Ellen,” he says and his hazel eyes burn into mine.
“Uh…”
I give up on ever being articulate again. Jeez.
“Gonna kiss you now,” he says
then leans down, smashing his lips to mine. He snakes a hand around and up my bare back, which makes me shiver. And, dang, can he kiss. It was hot yesterday when I took the lead, but now that he’s the one in control, it’s off-the-charts hot.
Wow.
And leave it to me to leave out Scenario 4: He picks me up. He looks freakin’ good when he walks in. Then he stares at me like I’m the hottest woman he’s ever seen. He stalks to me, pinning me against the bar. We never make it to dinner. My mind isn’t even on Jag. And things go wayyyy downhill from there.
Damn.