Beautiful Player
Page 39
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“So are you going to tell me?” he asked.
He’d stopped in front of his door and my eyes shot up to his. “What?” I asked, confused.
“Date, Hanna.”
“Oh,” I murmured, blinking away and trying to make some order of the chaos inside my head. “It was dinner and blah blah blah, I took a cab home. You’re sure I didn’t wake you?”
He sighed long and deep, gesturing for me to lead us inside. “Unfortunately, no.” He tossed me a blanket from the back of the couch. “I haven’t been able to fall asleep yet.”
I wanted to pay attention, but I was suddenly surrounded by so many pieces of Will’s life. His apartment was one of the newer buildings in the area, and it was modern, but modest. He flipped a switch to a small fireplace against one wall, and the flames bit to life with a soft whoosh, washing the honey-colored walls in flickering light.
“Warm up while I get you something to drink,” he said, motioning to the rug in front of the hearth. “And tell me more about this date that ended at nine.”
The kitchen was visible from the living room and I watched as he opened and closed cupboards, filling an ancient-looking kettle before setting it to heat on the stove. His place was smaller than I’d have imagined, with wood floors and bookcases packed to the brim with dog-eared novels, thick genetics texts, and an entire wall dedicated to what looked like a rather impressive collection of comic books. Two leather couches dominated the living room and simple framed art lined the walls. There were magazines in a basket on the floor, a stack of mail tucked into the mantel, a glass full of bottle caps resting on a shelf.
I tried to focus on what he was asking, but every object in his apartment was a fascinating puzzle piece to the story of Will. “There’s really not much to tell,” I said distractedly.
“Hanna.”
I groaned, taking off my jacket and folding it over the back of a chair. “My head just wasn’t in the game, you know?” I said, and stopped at the expression on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open as his gaze moved slowly down my body. “What?”
“What are you . . .” He coughed. “You came all the way over here in that?”
I looked down and if possible, became even more mortified than I’d been before. I’d gone to bed in shorts and a tank top, only taking time to throw on a pair of pajama pants, my fuzzy boots, and Jensen’s giant old coat. My shirt left nothing to the imagination and my ni**les were hard, completely visible beneath the thin material.
“Oh. Oops.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the fact that it was obviously very, very cold outside. “I probably should have paid more attention but I . . . I wanted to see you. Is that weird? It’s weird isn’t it? I’m probably breaking about twelve of your rules right now.”
He blinked. “I, uh . . . I think there’s a clause in there to make an exception for any rule-breaking while wearing an outfit like that,” he said, managing to pull his eyes from my chest long enough to finish up in the kitchen. There was an unfamiliar sense of power in being able to fluster him, and I tried not to look too smug as he walked out, carrying two steaming mugs.
“So why was this date so uneventful?” he asked.
I sat on the floor in front of the fire, legs stretched out in front of me. “Just had other things on my mind.”
“Like?”
“Liiiiiike . . .” I said, dragging the word out long enough to decide if I really wanted to go there. I did. “Like the party?”
A moment of long, heavy silence stretched between us. “I see.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said, glancing over at me, “I wasn’t exactly sound asleep here.”
I nodded and turned back to the fire, not sure how to proceed. “I’ve always been able to control where my mind went, you know? If it’s time for school I think about school. If it’s work, I think about work. But lately,” I said, shaking my head, “my concentration is crap.”
He laughed softly next to me. “I know exactly how you feel.”
“I can’t focus.”
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking up at me through dark lashes.
“I’m not sleeping very well.”
“Same.”
“I’m so f**king wound up I can hardly sit still,” I admitted.
I heard the sound of his exhale, a long, measured breath, and only then did I realize how close we’d gotten. I looked up to see him watching me.
He’d stopped in front of his door and my eyes shot up to his. “What?” I asked, confused.
“Date, Hanna.”
“Oh,” I murmured, blinking away and trying to make some order of the chaos inside my head. “It was dinner and blah blah blah, I took a cab home. You’re sure I didn’t wake you?”
He sighed long and deep, gesturing for me to lead us inside. “Unfortunately, no.” He tossed me a blanket from the back of the couch. “I haven’t been able to fall asleep yet.”
I wanted to pay attention, but I was suddenly surrounded by so many pieces of Will’s life. His apartment was one of the newer buildings in the area, and it was modern, but modest. He flipped a switch to a small fireplace against one wall, and the flames bit to life with a soft whoosh, washing the honey-colored walls in flickering light.
“Warm up while I get you something to drink,” he said, motioning to the rug in front of the hearth. “And tell me more about this date that ended at nine.”
The kitchen was visible from the living room and I watched as he opened and closed cupboards, filling an ancient-looking kettle before setting it to heat on the stove. His place was smaller than I’d have imagined, with wood floors and bookcases packed to the brim with dog-eared novels, thick genetics texts, and an entire wall dedicated to what looked like a rather impressive collection of comic books. Two leather couches dominated the living room and simple framed art lined the walls. There were magazines in a basket on the floor, a stack of mail tucked into the mantel, a glass full of bottle caps resting on a shelf.
I tried to focus on what he was asking, but every object in his apartment was a fascinating puzzle piece to the story of Will. “There’s really not much to tell,” I said distractedly.
“Hanna.”
I groaned, taking off my jacket and folding it over the back of a chair. “My head just wasn’t in the game, you know?” I said, and stopped at the expression on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open as his gaze moved slowly down my body. “What?”
“What are you . . .” He coughed. “You came all the way over here in that?”
I looked down and if possible, became even more mortified than I’d been before. I’d gone to bed in shorts and a tank top, only taking time to throw on a pair of pajama pants, my fuzzy boots, and Jensen’s giant old coat. My shirt left nothing to the imagination and my ni**les were hard, completely visible beneath the thin material.
“Oh. Oops.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the fact that it was obviously very, very cold outside. “I probably should have paid more attention but I . . . I wanted to see you. Is that weird? It’s weird isn’t it? I’m probably breaking about twelve of your rules right now.”
He blinked. “I, uh . . . I think there’s a clause in there to make an exception for any rule-breaking while wearing an outfit like that,” he said, managing to pull his eyes from my chest long enough to finish up in the kitchen. There was an unfamiliar sense of power in being able to fluster him, and I tried not to look too smug as he walked out, carrying two steaming mugs.
“So why was this date so uneventful?” he asked.
I sat on the floor in front of the fire, legs stretched out in front of me. “Just had other things on my mind.”
“Like?”
“Liiiiiike . . .” I said, dragging the word out long enough to decide if I really wanted to go there. I did. “Like the party?”
A moment of long, heavy silence stretched between us. “I see.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said, glancing over at me, “I wasn’t exactly sound asleep here.”
I nodded and turned back to the fire, not sure how to proceed. “I’ve always been able to control where my mind went, you know? If it’s time for school I think about school. If it’s work, I think about work. But lately,” I said, shaking my head, “my concentration is crap.”
He laughed softly next to me. “I know exactly how you feel.”
“I can’t focus.”
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking up at me through dark lashes.
“I’m not sleeping very well.”
“Same.”
“I’m so f**king wound up I can hardly sit still,” I admitted.
I heard the sound of his exhale, a long, measured breath, and only then did I realize how close we’d gotten. I looked up to see him watching me.
