by Natalie Wrye
Especially the fact that she’s here.
I’m not supposed to give a shit. But I do.
And I wish I could help it.
I’m also not supposed to be like one of those insecure women, wishing she could hold onto her man. And if anyone asks, this is water in the cup that Ben is now pouring me, not vodka.
I stare into the same six ounces of clear liquid as Kayla, Stephan, Sevin and Kimmy Wallace disappear behind Stephan’s solid office door.
I glance again at the wood, as if the very act will make Sevin walk through it.
Anger makes me take another gulp of my now-lukewarm liquor and as the oval room begins buzzing around me—Naomi, Sawyer, Bowen and Sabrina speaking in hushed whispers, the wait is killing me to find out what the hell is going on.
What the hell are they talking about?
I’m guessing Charlie. Then why was Kimmy staring at Sevin like that?
The question of what Sevin is doing behind those doors with his ex won’t leave me alone. But neither will Ben.
He sidles up beside me against the wall, his breath puffing on the back of my shoulders as he leans in, his voice a sharp hiss.
He lowers his own Solo cup and turns.
“You think Kimmy came to get him back?”
“Say it a little louder, Ben. Don’t think the people living down the block heard you. You don’t even need a bullhorn at this point.”
“I’m sure one couldn’t hurt right now, you know? This sort of scandal needs an announcement. ‘Caution,’” he motions in the air. “‘Child-abandoning bitch on the prowl.’ The headline would sell papers for days.”
“She sounds like the type who wouldn’t mind. As long as her face was on the front…”
And I know I’m being petty. I know I’m being insecure.
I know I should be leaning on Ben—to complain, to cry or maybe even do both—instead of taking jabs at the woman Sevin once loved.
But truth is: I guess it’s because I’m scared. Because funnily enough, my upstairs neighbor, distraction he is and all, is the only man who’s made me feel something—anything—since I can remember.
And I wasn’t about to lose him or his daughter.
At least, not yet.
I can’t tell if Ben is pulling me back from the emotional ledge. Or pushing me to it.
My closest co-worker reads my thoughts as always, chiming in before I can choke down another swallow of vodka, his words low.
“You know Sevin cares about you now, don’t you?” He waits but I don’t respond, still staring into the cup of vodka in my hands. I say nothing. “I’ve never seen a man look at anyone the way he looked at you. Sort of the way I look at Stephan when he’s not watching. But I digress.”
Ben huffs, twirling his Solo cop, hovering near. He nudges my arm. “The man looks at you like he’s in love with you…which means he is. I heard Naomi and Sawyer speaking earlier, and it was clear. You’ve made Sevin fall for you. Made his daughter want to be like you. This isn’t a Jason situation; you don’t walk away from this one. And if you do…” He shakes his head, standing firm. “It’s not without a hell of a fight. I mean, I’ve seen you on that MyNeighbor app initiating a few ‘play ones’ with Sevin, so I know you’re capable of it.”
The MyNeighbor app.
I’d forgotten all about it.
Since the last time I’d spoken on it with Sevin, I haven’t used it. Not for days.
I was thinking about needing a team, almost forgetting one of the most important ones.
I fish inside my back jean pocket, finding my cell. Swiping up on the app, I open it to the public message forum and start typing to my neighbors immediately.
Go team.
SEVIN
I’m half the man I can be without my team.
Without Sawyer and Naomi and Emily beside me. Not to mention Charlie.
The past catches up with me. From the second I sit down with Kimmy.
It all comes rushing back in a flurry of memories I’d rather forget, and, alone, I face the demons that drag me back to nine years ago. Back to college.
Back to the night that changed my life forever. And the people who changed it.
Draft night was one for the history books. But the night before was a shitshow. And I remember it like it was yesterday.
“Fuck, I could use a blowjob right now.”
“I hate it when you tell me things like that, Sawyer. It’s as if your cock is my responsibility.”
“It is, when you’re my wingman.” He swings an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “Tatiana has me in blue-ball hell. Sarah only gives hand-jobs. Natalia’s been teasing me for months, and if I don’t get my dick wet at this party, I swear: I’m humping one of you before the night is over.”
“If this act comes down to a vote, I vote for Lenny. Most of the time, he’s a walking prick anyway.”
Sawyer laughs. “What the hell are you doing over here? Trying to recover from last night? I heard you had three sorority sisters clinging to your bedroom curtains last night.” He leans in as if telling a secret. As if he were capable of that. His voice is still too loud.
“I heard Victoria Salvatore called first dibs on you in her sorority tonight. Janice Planko brought condoms with your name Sharpie-ed on them. And the best part…” He chuckles beside me. “Vivian Green isn’t wearing any underwear. Told her roommate that’s easy access for when she takes you into the bathroom. Now, what do you think of that?”
I want to say I don’t think shit of that. I want to say that Vivian Green can slip her thong back on. That I’m waiting for someone else.
But the rounded shape of his drunken eyes tells me that I can’t. Every teammate’s eyes on me tells me that I can’t.
Not now. Not on the night before the Major League draft.
Because those eyes tell me I’m the team captain. Tell me I’m a hero.
Those eyes tell me to be the ‘Sterling Silvered Cock’ they call me. They tell me to be the number one draft pick I’m sure to be picked in t-minus ten hours.
And I’ve never said no to those eyes before. Until now.
I shake my head. “Well, then you tell Vivian Green to re-think the bathroom idea.” I grin. “I’m just as good in the kitchen.”
Sawyer slaps me on the back, ever the proud purveyor of pussy. But as soon as he leaves, the grin slips from my face replaced with a frown, just as sorority princess Victoria “Very Good Head” Salvatore slides in his abandoned space, her cherry-glossed lips spread wide.
She glances up at me and smiles.
I fight the urge to straighten against the wall, lifting my cup. “Victoria.”
“Vicky,” she corrects. “You know, you never did call me by my nickname, Mr. Baseball Big Shot. And now it’s almost too late since you’ll be a big superstar come tomorrow. Has a girl wondering if maybe she waited too long to get, uh, acquainted with you.”
She touches my collar. The skin there is hot, heated from staring in anger at the door, and if this were a few months ago, I’d tell her to move those fingers lower.
If only my heart didn’t wish she were someone else. Someone with whom I plan on leaving all of this behind come tomorrow night.
It’s hard to keep Kimmy off every single thought in my mind. But I try.
“It really is a shame we didn’t get to know each better, Vicky.” I shrug. “Better luck next lifetime.”
“Well, who says we can’t make the most out of tonight? My calendar is free. I’ve got a clean set of sheets at home with your name on them, and if you’re lucky…” She trails off, and it looks like I’m going to be. “You can put something other than your name on them, in the form of a naked me.”
She flicks dark hair over her shoulder, daring me with her eyes.
I can’t will my cock to react, even when I want it to.
And even as Vicky’s teasing turns to whispers, even as she pushes her breasts against my chest and hisses seductively in my ear, her fingers playing along th
e hair at my nape, I can’t find the will to get excited.
Leaving behind this version of Sevin Smith is a million times harder than I thought it would be, and I’m seconds away, inches really, from stepping out of Victoria’s grasp when the famed sorority house BJ Queen plants me against the wall, grabbing my face.
With more intensity than a second inning heater, she plants those talked-about lips against me, plunging her tongue deep, stealing every ounce of my breath away. My body stiffens.
Tasting of dark cherries and unbelievable fuckability, Victoria angles her mouth against mine, lining her body along my length, doing what she does best.
And I know this kiss should be enough. She should be enough.
Hell, this life should be enough.
But it never has been. Or I wouldn’t be leaving it.
I prepare to tell Vicky exactly this when I finally break the kiss, taking that long-awaited step back. But the sensation of eyes on my skin stops everything, and I turn towards the door to find Kimmy standing there, watching me, her brown eyes wide with shock.
But then again, so are mine. Especially when I see who she’s with.
My roommate and best friend Finley saunters in through the door I’ve grown to hate, wrapped around her arm. As if he belongs there.
Her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, Kimmy’s wearing the smile that I normally put on her face and a mini-skirt.
The number-one draft pick doesn’t give a shit. Neither does the man they call “Sterling Silvered Cock.”
But the nineteen-year old baseball player who’s supposed to be running away with his girlfriend sure as hell does.
And while my pride tries to decide between which version he will be in the next few seconds, I grit my teeth and decide for him.
Nine entire years later, I’m still deciding for that nineteen-year old. Especially when Kayla stops talking, finishing her excuse.
“I had to keep my client’s privacy foremost as her PR agent. I never meant to lie to you, Sevin.” The brunette meets my eye. “Kimmy was in the middle of a public relations nightmare with her divorce from her husband. The custody battle was still in the air, and to protect Charlie, she sent her to the only other man on the earth she felt she could trust.”
I don’t look at Kimmy, fighting to rein in the rage coursing its way through my veins. I barely succeed. “I’m guessing that man was me.”
“Kimmy talked to Charlie for years about you, sharing you as her special friend. She knew you’d do the right thing, taking in Charlie, but we needed to keep it a secret. Hence, the alias and ‘blackmail scandal.’ Sevin,” Kayla’s voice lowers, settling in the air like a weight. “If we thought there was any other way to protect Charlie, we would have done it. We never thought it would turn out this way. Never thought Charlie would find out and run.”
“Clearly, Kayla, you underestimate your own client. Fortunately, I do not. I’ve already called the cops.” I cross my arms. “You see, I figured Kimmy was behind this. Especially when I found out Finley was Charlie’s ‘father.’ And only one woman on earth would use a name like Deborah Jett. The only woman I know who would come up with an alias that’s a mash of my favorite female artists from the seventies: Deborah Harry and Joan Jett… And yes, women made damn good rock music too. Even when I don’t act like it.”
“The press and police outside of my apartment are there because of me. And because I know Charlie and my mind is clear, I think I know exactly where Charlie is…”
I stand to my feet.
Chapter 27
EMILY
Sunday
My taxi pulls up to my apartment building, leaving me hopping out of the back seat.
The rain has picked up, leaving the press and police scattering, and huddling in a hastily grabbed blazer, Chicago Cougars cap secured tight, I scramble inside and out of the Chicago rain and wind, making my way into Millennium Gardens.
I sigh once in the lobby, letting myself breathe.
Shaking the dampness from my bones, I inhale the warm central air for another twenty seconds before heading up to the elevator.
Once inside, I soak in the solace. But not before typing quickly back in the MyNeighbor app, my fingers moving quickly over the keys as I finish my last post.
I end with a period.
Emily:
Thank you for your help, Miss Headley. And I promise next time I’ll take out the trash a little sooner.
Gratefully yours,
Your neighbor, Emily
P.S. Thanks for always keeping on an eye on things in the building. It really helped this time. And I owe you one.
How’s about dibs on the elevator?
It’s the only play I’ve got.
In a world full of chaos, I’m finally figuring out that life’s not about plans anymore. It’s about the plays you make.
The team you build around you. The signs you choose to see.
The nosy neighbor is just what I needed. Only I didn’t see it before.
Overlooking the blessings in front of me have been a long time burden. But no longer.
Not going back to my apartment after finding out that Charlie ran away was a mistake. I see that now.
I’d changed into clothes from my suitcases at Sevin’s, panicking about time. Never thinking things through.
Over thirty floors up, I pray that me and Mrs. Headley are right, and when I step outside of the opening elevator, I realize I might be when I hear a small voice cry out quietly behind me, stopping me in my tracks.
I spin.
For a second, I almost don’t recognize her—the little girl. But there’s no mistaking those big, beautiful green eyes, and as she walks towards me in her jeans and jersey-like t-shirt, a small smile hidden behind a curtain of sandy hair, I struggle not to gasp out loud.
She reaches her hand out for me to shake, a knowing look in her pine-colored irises. “Good morning, Emily. Nice to see you here today.” Her tone is straight-laced, an attempt at sounding business-like.
I feel my eyes widen on my face. I grab her hand and shake it. “Charlie…” Her name is a sigh on my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for an appointment, of course.” She gazes up at me like only an eight-year old could, seemingly questioning how I could ask something so simple. “Isn’t that what people do at law places before they can see someone? They make an appointment?”
“Yes, they do.” I glance around the hallway, hoping I can find some answers around the carpet. I shrug out of my coat. “But…you left the apartment. Alone this morning. Where’d you go?”
“I figured Felix needed milk for his stomach. Since he was so sick.” She points at the fur ball on the floor. “But when I came back to Sevin’s apartment, no one was there. So, I came back here. Where we first met. Looking for you. I think I need a lawyer.”
“What for?”
“To fix my family. If Sevin’s going to be my second dad, then we need to discuss some things. Starting right now.”
I manage to smile through the tears. “You heard us in Sevin’s apartment last night, didn’t you?”
She shrugs. “Of course I did.”
I pick Felix off the floor, wrapping the cat in one arm, and Charlie in the other. Leading both back to the elevator, I lick my dry lips, looking for words that won’t get me in any more mischief than I’m already in.
“Um, Charlie, how much did you hear from me and Sevin last night? Hopefully not much…”
The eight-year old smiles. The elevator opens as we stand there in the hallway, and the resounding double doors part to reveal a pair of surprised green eyes just inside.
Just as gorgeous as Charlie’s.
And I never get my fill of them—of looking at them. Sevin is so handsome it hurts.
Especially when he bends down towards Charlie, wrapping her in a hug. The motion is natural, fluid as if he’s done this a million times before, and I know with every bone in my weepy body that Sevin will make the greatest “
second father” on the planet.
In my eyes, he’ll always be “first.”
And I’m not the only one who appears to know it.
Over the threshold to the elevator, Charlie swings her tiny arms around Sevin’s neck, holding tight.
The gentle giant and his favorite grasshopper stay that way for several long seconds before finally parting, their identical pair of pine-like eyes coming face-to-face.
I bite my lip to keep the tears from flowing as Charlie pokes at Sevin’s jaw.
“So, you’re my dad, too, huh?”
Sevin blinks, his eyes glossy with unshed emotion. He nods at the little girl who, in another life, could be his twin, confirming what we should have all known since the beginning.
His jaw holds steady as she traces the lines of his face, and when he reaches up to trace hers, the tears in my eyes fall freely. I don’t even try to hide the wet trails forming over my cheeks as I watch them, filled with joy, as they explore one another anew.
Friend to friend. Grasshopper to grown-up.
Father to daughter.
For the first time.
And I know that no career win could match this moment for the new Sevin. He stands to his feet, extending a hand to Charlie who takes it.
“How else do you think you became such a good softball player, huh, grasshopper? You inherited your skills from the best.”
He presses the button for the elevator, calling the small lift. His gaze roving over to mine, he reaches for me, pulling me into their embrace, and the four of us—three freaks and one feline—head into the elevator, ready to face the music of what the future holds.
Only this time? With Charlie?
Sevin and I are marching to the beat of very different drums.
No Led Zeppelin. No Sheryl Crow.
Just love. Lots of it.
With a just hint of mischief and good ol’ affection on the bass.
Monday
We never make it to Sevin’s game the next day.
It’s the first game (spring season or otherwise) the MVP misses in his nine year professional career, and not a tear is shed at the thought.