Beautiful Player
Page 43
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I stared at the cashier, silently begging her to ring up customers just a little faster. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah.”
He nodded again and I was tempted to tell him the rule of silence: sometimes an awkward silence is actually far less awkward than forced conversation.
Dylan stepped up to order his coffee and I could return to the safety of distraction via smartphone. I didn’t meet his eye again as he paid and walked away, but I felt like my gut was made of lead.
What the f**k was I doing?
With every step to my office, I felt more and more uncomfortable. In the past near-decade, the lines were drawn with each of my sexual partners before the sex even happened. Sometimes the conversation occurred as we left an event together, other times it came up organically when they asked if I had a girlfriend and I could simply say, “I’m dating, but not seeing one person exclusively right now.” In the few cases when the sex turned into something more, I’d always made a point to be clear about where I stood, find out where they stood, and discuss—openly—what we both wanted.
I hadn’t registered how blindsided I’d been by the appearance of Dylan—in my world, and, more importantly, in Hanna’s. For the first time ever, I’d made the assumption that when she pulled me to that back bedroom, she would want to explore sex with me . . . and only me.
Karma was clearly a bitch.
That morning, I dove into work, burning through three prospectuses and a stack of bullshit paperwork I’d been putting off for the past week. I followed up on calls, arranged for a business trip to the Bay Area to check out a few new biotechs. I barely stopped to breathe.
But when the afternoon rolled around, and I hadn’t eaten anything for hours and my caffeine rush had long since tapered, Hanna pushed her way back into my thoughts.
My office door opened and Max walked over, tossing an enormous sandwich on my desk before sinking into the chair across from me. “What’s going on, William? You look like you just found out DNA is a right-handed helix.”
“It is a right-handed helix,” I corrected him. “It just turns to the left.”
“Like your dick?”
“Exactly.” I pulled my sandwich toward me, unwrapping it. I hadn’t realized until it was in front of me, smelling delicious, just how hungry I was. “Just thinking too much.”
“Why do you look mental, then? Thinking too much is your f**king superpower, mate.”
“Not about this it isn’t.” I rubbed my face, opting for honesty over jokes. “I’m kind of confused over something.”
He took a bite, studied me. After several long moments, he asked, “This is about Tits, isn’t it?”
I looked up at him, expression flat. “You can’t call her that, Max.”
“?’Course I can’t. Not to her face anyway. I mean, I call my Sara ‘Tongue’ after all, but she doesn’t know it.”
Despite my angst-ridden mood, I laughed at this. “You do not.”
“No, I don’t.” His smile gave way to a frown of mock contrition. “That would be tacky, wouldn’t it?”
“Very tacky.”
“I can’t help but notice that Hanna does have a fantastic pair, though.”
Laughing again, I murmured, “Maximus, you have no idea.”
He sat up straighter in his chair. “No, I don’t,” he said. “But it sounds like you do. Have you seen them? I wasn’t aware things had progressed beyond your dating-mentoring bullshit.”
When I looked up at him, I knew he could see it all in my face: I was in deep with Hanna. “I have. Things . . . uh . . . progressed the other night. And then again a couple of nights ago.” I picked at my sandwich. “We haven’t had sex, but . . . Alas, tonight she’s going on another date with this one guy.”
“Doing the ‘dating’ thing she was so keen on, eh?”
I nodded. “Seems like it.”
“Does she know you’re walking around under a lovesick rain cloud?”
I took a bite of my sandwich and threw him a look. “No,” I mumbled. “Dick.”
“She seems pretty great,” he hedged carefully.
I wiped my mouth on my napkin and leaned back in my chair. Great didn’t seem to cover it with Hanna. I hadn’t known a girl like her, maybe ever. “Max, she’s the entire package. Funny, sweet, honest, beautiful . . . I just feel so out of my depth on this.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I could sense how foreign they sounded coming from me. A strange ringing silence filled the room, and I knew the wave of mockery was coming straight at me. It was evident in the little twitch of Max’s lips.
He nodded again and I was tempted to tell him the rule of silence: sometimes an awkward silence is actually far less awkward than forced conversation.
Dylan stepped up to order his coffee and I could return to the safety of distraction via smartphone. I didn’t meet his eye again as he paid and walked away, but I felt like my gut was made of lead.
What the f**k was I doing?
With every step to my office, I felt more and more uncomfortable. In the past near-decade, the lines were drawn with each of my sexual partners before the sex even happened. Sometimes the conversation occurred as we left an event together, other times it came up organically when they asked if I had a girlfriend and I could simply say, “I’m dating, but not seeing one person exclusively right now.” In the few cases when the sex turned into something more, I’d always made a point to be clear about where I stood, find out where they stood, and discuss—openly—what we both wanted.
I hadn’t registered how blindsided I’d been by the appearance of Dylan—in my world, and, more importantly, in Hanna’s. For the first time ever, I’d made the assumption that when she pulled me to that back bedroom, she would want to explore sex with me . . . and only me.
Karma was clearly a bitch.
That morning, I dove into work, burning through three prospectuses and a stack of bullshit paperwork I’d been putting off for the past week. I followed up on calls, arranged for a business trip to the Bay Area to check out a few new biotechs. I barely stopped to breathe.
But when the afternoon rolled around, and I hadn’t eaten anything for hours and my caffeine rush had long since tapered, Hanna pushed her way back into my thoughts.
My office door opened and Max walked over, tossing an enormous sandwich on my desk before sinking into the chair across from me. “What’s going on, William? You look like you just found out DNA is a right-handed helix.”
“It is a right-handed helix,” I corrected him. “It just turns to the left.”
“Like your dick?”
“Exactly.” I pulled my sandwich toward me, unwrapping it. I hadn’t realized until it was in front of me, smelling delicious, just how hungry I was. “Just thinking too much.”
“Why do you look mental, then? Thinking too much is your f**king superpower, mate.”
“Not about this it isn’t.” I rubbed my face, opting for honesty over jokes. “I’m kind of confused over something.”
He took a bite, studied me. After several long moments, he asked, “This is about Tits, isn’t it?”
I looked up at him, expression flat. “You can’t call her that, Max.”
“?’Course I can’t. Not to her face anyway. I mean, I call my Sara ‘Tongue’ after all, but she doesn’t know it.”
Despite my angst-ridden mood, I laughed at this. “You do not.”
“No, I don’t.” His smile gave way to a frown of mock contrition. “That would be tacky, wouldn’t it?”
“Very tacky.”
“I can’t help but notice that Hanna does have a fantastic pair, though.”
Laughing again, I murmured, “Maximus, you have no idea.”
He sat up straighter in his chair. “No, I don’t,” he said. “But it sounds like you do. Have you seen them? I wasn’t aware things had progressed beyond your dating-mentoring bullshit.”
When I looked up at him, I knew he could see it all in my face: I was in deep with Hanna. “I have. Things . . . uh . . . progressed the other night. And then again a couple of nights ago.” I picked at my sandwich. “We haven’t had sex, but . . . Alas, tonight she’s going on another date with this one guy.”
“Doing the ‘dating’ thing she was so keen on, eh?”
I nodded. “Seems like it.”
“Does she know you’re walking around under a lovesick rain cloud?”
I took a bite of my sandwich and threw him a look. “No,” I mumbled. “Dick.”
“She seems pretty great,” he hedged carefully.
I wiped my mouth on my napkin and leaned back in my chair. Great didn’t seem to cover it with Hanna. I hadn’t known a girl like her, maybe ever. “Max, she’s the entire package. Funny, sweet, honest, beautiful . . . I just feel so out of my depth on this.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I could sense how foreign they sounded coming from me. A strange ringing silence filled the room, and I knew the wave of mockery was coming straight at me. It was evident in the little twitch of Max’s lips.
