All the Frogs in Manhattan

by Carrie Aarons

  I’m not bummed whatsoever, though, when Cody asks me to the Yankee game with him on Thursday night. Baseball is the one sport I do like. There is enough time to get steadily buzzed and check out hot men, because you can actually make them out on the field. And, he prefaces the date by saying that he has a corporate suite. Which means no standing in long gate lines, sitting on uncomfortable seats, walking the concourse to find the food you want, or having to share space with disgusting, rude fans.

  Oddly, I’m a little nervous. Cody is hot, and I mean makes-your-nipples-hard-on-the-first-look hot. He has that innate sexiness that some men just have; he exudes it, it can’t be learned. I’m also still a little peeved about Oliver, who I haven’t heard from since the kickball tournament on Sunday. He barely spoke to me there, leaving me on my own to mingle. He hadn’t seemed to even notice Cody talking to me, and hadn’t texted a thank you for sparing my entire Sunday to come out to his work event.

  Whatever, at least I knew that fuck buddy just meant exactly that going forward. Cody was more intimidating to me than Oliver though. Oliver was Oliver; I didn’t know how to explain why it felt easy to be around him. With Cody, I was a bundle of nerves getting ready. Were my curls falling just right, why couldn’t both sets of eyelashes look the same and be fuller? Was my outfit, a navy blue sun dress and jean jacket, casual but also date appropriate?

  Cody was successful, very much so. And he was whip smart as the director of IT. He knew he was good-looking, I could tell that much from talking to him. But I had a very good sense of people, or at least I thought I had before I’d started dating this summer. If my intuition was right, he was just the right amount of cocky to be confident. Just the right amount that kept women coming back for more.

  When he’d called on Monday, just the day after we’d met which was a good and polite sign, and asked me to the game, I had something to look forward to all week. Especially after Dani came in gushing on Tuesday morning about how she was moving in with her latest boy toy after just two months of dating. That big, ugly green monster of jealously that I’d tamed after Myra’s engagement came roaring back. I’d actually cried in the bathroom for five minutes after she’d told me. Dani, the gossip queen of the office, had found someone who liked her so much that he was going to cohabitate with her.

  What the hell was so wrong with me?

  Shaking it off, I waited outside of my building. Cody was picking me up in an Uber, another good sign. He didn’t want me to have to travel into the Bronx by myself, and had offered to come pick me up. That was not only gentlemanly, but it showed protectiveness. I knew nothing terrible happened around Yankee stadium, but there were some shadier parts of the Bronx, as there were in any part of the city. Cody was thinking about that, and wanted to see that I was safe. My heart jumped at the notion.

  The wind was blowing nicely, and the night was cool with low humidity. Thank God, my hair was throwing up the praise hands emoji. A black town car pulled up, and I almost overlooked it. The Ubers I usually took were older model Camry’s or big black SUVs. The cars of people who were part time drivers, who used their own vehicles.

  The window rolled down and out popped a beautiful blond head. “Hi, beautiful. Get in.”

  The door opened and revealed Cody, sitting in the backseat with a Yankees jersey and khaki shorts on. His blond hair, longer on the top and shorter on the sides, was swooped back in a style that made me want to run my hands through it. I walked to the car, conscious of him scanning my form with appreciation. Heat swamped between my legs, and I knew I’d be jittery all night. He was too good-looking for his own good.

  “Hi there. Nice jersey, are you going to go down onto the field and play?” He had the ass and thighs for some yummy baseball pants.

  He leaned across the seat to plant a kiss on my cheek, and it was so unexpected that I sucked in a breath. His lips were warm and confident, and the longer amount of stubble he sported scratched my cheek and the sensation flew right down between my thighs. Cody smelled like clean soap and spearmint, and I leaned into his embrace.

  After his lips lingered on my cheek, he moved back across the seat. “God, I wish. That was my childhood dream, but unfortunately where I’m skilled in the smarts department, God left out the ability to catch or kick a ball.”

  He was mocking himself, another good sign. I liked a good amount of self-deprecation in a person.

  “Do you go to the games a lot?” I was trying to make good conversation. The less awkward silence, the better the date.

  Cody doesn’t break eye contact. “I try to get to a couple a month. We have the corporate suite, which is a bonus. There will be other people there tonight, I hope that’s okay.”

  I figured that, but didn’t let it faze me. “That’s fine, as long as you pay attention to me. And buy me a soft pretzel.”

  “Your wish is my command. I wouldn’t think of talking to anyone else but you.” I’m glad he got my joke. I might be a little more high maintenance than some other women, but I knew it. I could be self-deprecating too. “So how was your workday? Your job must be ever-changing.”

  Guys usually never wanted to talk about my job, and even if he was asking out of courtesy, I still liked to gloat a little. I’d worked hard to get where I was, and Femme was one of the best in the industry for what it was.

  “It definitely is, and I just put a huge project to bed so it feels good. We have our slow months and our fucking crazy ones, just like anyone else. I’m trying to write this article now about the culture of date rape at colleges. So it’s not all eyeliner and fragrant lotions; we have investigative pieces that I petition for once in a while.”

  My voice definitely got defensive at the end.

  He nodded, his eyes nothing but serious. “I get it, I do. I know that there is a huge market for your magazine, and decidedly so. Things are important to people whether or not they change the nature of the world. I enjoy craft beers and collecting them, does that mean my interests are stupid because they don’t help third world orphans? No, it just is what it is. Don’t feel bad about it for one second.”

  His words filled me with a sense of pride. I was always trying to express that, or rationalize it to myself. Cody hadn’t judged me like some other people, and he’d made me feel validated. I couldn’t help the sly smile that formed on my lips.

  The ride to the stadium was traffic-filled, and we pulled into the suite drop off section about ten minutes before the first pitch. I’d been to my share of baseball games living in New York the past three years, and had even watched a couple innings. The front of the stadium was mobbed, the white marble-like structure rising up into the sky, the lights shining on it making it look like God’s kingdom itself. It was a pretty cool experience to feel the pride and buzzing anticipation of the crowds filling the gates. Kids ran around their parents, tiny Yankee jerseys sticking to them in the summer heat. Vendors screamed about two-dollar waters and cheap “authentic” hats. Scalpers waved their hands for ticketless fans. Inside, the stadium roared like a tide, and music filtered into the night air.

  “You’re getting the VIP treatment tonight.” Cody held the door open to a back staircase, and I rolled my eyes at him.

  “You say this to all the girls you take here, don’t you?” I wasn’t naïve.

  He let me walk up the stairs first and chuckled. “You’re a little snarky, huh?”

  “I figure I should be completely up front about who I am. I’m going to bust your chops, and I like a little banter. Can you handle that?” I’m so tired of being coy with my dates that I’m going full frontal on this one. Well, about my personality that is.

  We walk some more stairs and Cody speaks from behind me. “I think I’m going to like you, Gemma Morgan.”

  I can’t help but blush. Good thing he doesn’t see.

  Two more flights and we’re at a hallway of doors. “Here we are.”

  Cody extends one arm and grabs the handle, the other moves to the small of my back to usher me inside. A thr
ill pools in my stomach having his hand on me.

  Once we step through the door, laughter, music and talk hits my ears. There are probably eight other people in here, six men and two women. I don’t know most of them, but I do recognize one of the guys from the kickball tournament. The Yankees are standing on the baseline, Cody whispers to me, and the room falls silent as we cross it and the National Anthem starts to play. I put my hand over my heart and feel Cody close beside me, the heat and his scent pulsing through my own body.

  “Let’s play ball!” One of the guys in the suite yells and we all clap, me following everyone else’s suit.

  Cody introduces me to everyone in the suite; three of the guys work for Graphite, three are just friends or guests, and two of the men brought their girlfriends. They’re all friendly enough, but I’m glad and also impressed when he finds a table in the corner of the suite, with a window that allows us to watch the game in relative separateness. He goes to get himself a beer and me a glass of wine, and to ask the attendant in the suite if a soft pretzel can be brought in.

  “Cheers.” He hands me my drink and clinks our plastic cups. “And thank you for agreeing to come out with me.”

  We sip and hold eye contact. I always do, because of the bad sex for seven years myth. Which only gets me thinking about sex with Cody. What would it be like? God, I could climb that muscled mountain of a body for days.

  The first inning goes by and he talks to me about some of the players while interspersing some get to know you questions in between. He makes it fun, this whole dating thing. I feel relaxed but always on the edge of my seat, and I’m eating up any kernel of information he gives about himself. Like a real person, this was a conversation and he was asking questions and actually listening to my answers. How refreshing yet idiotic at the same time. I never truly noticed how many people I deal with a day that don’t actually listen to the things I say.

  “Heck yeah, home run!” I nearly shouted, pressing my face to the glass as the ball soared over the stadium on the other side.

  “We’ll make a Yankee fan out of you yet, Morgan.” Cody stands and puts a hand around my shoulder, and the move is both testing and affectionate. I lean in, liking how tall he is as he engulfs my frame.

  “Damn it, I missed the first home run!”

  A familiar voice sounds from the back of the room, and to my horror, when I turn around, Oliver Anders stands there. His brown curls are windblown, and he’s wearing work slacks and shoes with a navy polo that has a Yankees logo emblazoned over the right pec.

  What the fuck was he doing here? Annoyance filled my chest, and I knew a frown marred my face.

  Oh shit, that was right. He was the one who probably paid the hefty check on this lovely suite. God damn, rich boy.

  Oliver’s eyes scanned the suite, nodding and saying hi to everyone. Since Cody and I were in the corner of the room, his gaze made it to us last. And when it did, and those cerulean eyes locked on mine, a flicker of surprise and something I couldn’t read passed between us. Why yes, hotshot, I can date other people.

  That cool blue gaze zones in on Cody’s arm around my shoulders, and suddenly I feel itchy and out of place. Fuck, and this date had been going so well. Now there was a prickle to the room that hadn’t been there before. And he was making his way over to us.

  “Hey, man, good to see you here. How’re the Pinstripes looking?” He fist bumps Cody, but I can tell the friendly vibe doesn’t reach his eyes.

  Cody must be oblivious to it. “They’re looking good, just got a run and our fielders are holding strong against that hot left-handed batter they have, so we’ll see.”

  Only after he nods at Cody does he turn to me. The last person he speaks to in the room. “Hey Gemma, good to see you. How’ve you been?”

  He acts as if we’re complete strangers, and I have to physically hold my head straight to not kink my neck in annoyance. That’s what he’s being. Annoying.

  “Good, good, having a great time with Cody here so far. How about you?” You could call me Splenda, I was being so fake sweet.

  “That’s good to hear. Well, you two enjoy the game.” He leaves, barely glancing at me when he does.

  I hate that my heart sinks just a tiny bit. Prick.

  For the next three innings, I feel him everywhere. The awareness of his position to mine is maddening, and I can’t concentrate on what Cody is saying. I want to stand up and hurl my wine glass at Oliver’s head for distracting me from this date.

  After I ask Cody to repeat himself for the third time, he laughs. “You’ve got to be hungry or something. They haven’t brought your pretzel yet, let me go run out onto the concourse and get you one.”

  God, he was so nice. I was such an idiot for letting this get to me when my sexy, funny date was trying to show me a good time. Cody squeezed my hand before leaving the table and slipping out of the room.

  And just as quickly, someone strolled over to take his seat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oliver

  “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”

  Annoyance. I guess that best described what I felt right now. I didn’t want to admit the word jealousy to myself, but the big green monster was clawing at my heartstrings.

  “Cody is great, and we’re having a good time.” Gemma shrugs and turns her attention back to the game.

  But she isn’t fooling me. I know she hates sports, a fact she told me when I put the Yankees game on the radio during our drive back from the Hamptons.

  I move my chair around the table so she has no choice but to look at me. “You could have told me you were going on a date with one of my employees.”

  I know I sound crazy right now. She doesn’t have to do anything, much less tell me shit. But walking in here and seeing her standing with Cody’s arm around her … it kind of set me off. I like Cody, I do … he’s a nice guy. But … it’s Gemma. I might not be dating her, but it doesn’t mean I really want to see her date. Much less someone I know and respect.

  “I didn’t realize I had to. We met at the kickball game, he asked me out, and I said yes.” She still isn’t looking at me.

  I lay my hand on her bare knee because I can’t help myself. “If you knew you were coming to this suite, you should have told me.”

  Jealousy rings through my tone and we both hear it. She looks pretty, casual but done up at the same time. She did this for him, to impress him. It sets my teeth on edge in a way I didn’t know was possible. I hadn’t been with another woman in a month, not since the second time we’d slept together. After I’d gotten home from California, I’d wanted to see her, but thought it would be weird considering what went down with our phone sex.

  “I don’t report to you.” Gemma whips her head around, and her steely voice and hazel eyes cut me.

  I gaze into them, and not only do I see rage, but I see … hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” Why is she upset with me?

  Gemma purses her lips, which are today the color of deep, rich cranberry sauce, and regards me for a moment. I think she’s going to answer me, but then she just turns toward the field again and shrugs as she mumbles, “nothing.”

  My hand is still on her skin, the warm, smooth part of her body driving me mad in a certain part of my brain.

  “Come on, Gemma, we don’t lie to each other. What’s up?” I’ve never put up with women who do this cold shoulder thing. But something inside of me won’t rest until I know what’s bothering her.

  “It’s nothing, Oliver. Go enjoy your game.” She brushes my hand off her lap and stands, moving across the room towards the little corridor that holds the single stall men and women’s restrooms.

  Slowly, I follow, trying not to draw the notice of the others in the suite. As I round the corner, she’s just about to disappear inside the bathroom, when I grip the door and push in with her.

  “What the fuck, Oliver?!” Her voice is a yelling whisper.

  “You’re not being honest with me, sweetheart.
And you just show up here with Cody and think I won’t find out?”

  A shit-eating grin paints her gorgeous face. “You’re jealous.”

  I stall, not wanting to answer her statement. “What’s upsetting you? Why are you being short?”

  She fires back, leaning into my space. “Why do you want to know? What’s got your panties all in a twist? You didn’t care that I was talking to him at kickball. You didn’t even seem to notice.”

  On her last sentence, she crosses her arms and a lightbulb goes off in my head about why she’s so pissed. “This is about the kickball game?”

  I’d invited her to my company’s work party without really thinking about it. I didn’t consider how I’d have to explain who she was, or why she was there. I’d missed her when I was in California, and wanted her to have some fun on a Sunday with me. Except when she arrived, I kind of panicked. And instead of just owning it, I just decided to ignore her for the rest of the day.

  No wonder she was angrier than a poked bear.

  “I apologize if you got the wrong idea about the kickball game.” Fuck, I just couldn’t give myself a hand, could I?

  Gemma scoffs and tries to move around me. “I’ll pee later, thanks. Have a nice fucking game, Oliver.”

  My heart lurched in its almost-forgotten cavity, the sensation so new to me that I shot a hand out and grabbed Gemma’s arm. And before I knew what I was doing, I turned her towards me, smashing her to my body, and covered her lips with my own.

  She made a noise, something between a squeak and a groan, but her body betrayed her. She melted to me, her body molding to mine like it had numerous times before. I was a savage, biting and crushing her mouth with mine as I backed her into the bathroom wall. It was seedy, mauling her in the bathroom like this, but the fact that Cody could be just on the other side of the wall made my dick hard instantly.

  I knew her. I’d undressed her, body and mind. I’d laughed with her, and seen every goofy, perfect side of her. Why I couldn’t convey that to her using words or logic, I didn’t know. Each time I tried to show her that it had moved past a casual fling for me, I ended up putting my foot in my mouth. Or using my dick to do the talking.