by Sky Corgan
I can't argue with that. He is a good teacher, and I admittedly enjoy playing tennis with him more than I do with Peter.
“Oh great teacher,” I mock him for the hell of it, “do you have any tips to help me get better quickly?”
Caleb rubs his jaw. “Learning the game is easy. Unfortunately, building up your endurance won't happen as quickly. The more you practice, though, the faster it will happen.”
“And how do I go about building up my endurance?” I circle my index finger at him. “I ran so much that my lungs burned, and when I was able to return the ball, it felt like my wrist was going to snap.”
He looks at me as if an idea has suddenly come to him. “Every time I see you on the treadmill at the gym, you're jogging at a leisurely pace. You need to start working on increasing your speed. If I tell you how to do that, will your remember.”
I nod. He makes it sound like I'm going to need to take notes. It can't possibly be that damn complicated.
“You know what, I'll just text it to you later. I'm sure you'll forget if I try to tell you now.” Caleb screws his face.
“Really?” I give him a sarcastic look. “I'm not a fucking idiot, Caleb.”
“I never said that you were.” He huffs at me. “There's just a progression to this, and it's kind of long. The first week, you alternate between jogging and walking for a certain amount of time. The next week, the times change. It goes like that for nine weeks. I'm going to give you the same plan that people use when they train for a 5k.”
“Oh.” My expression sulks as I realize that I came off as bitchy. “So what do I do about the wrist thing?”
“As far as that goes, you need to practice hitting the ball harder and faster against the wall. It won't be the same as playing an actual person, but it will still help to improve your hand-eye coordination, strengthen your grip, and maybe give you those calluses that you've been dreading,” he says with a smirk.
“I don't want calluses.” I pout.
“Remember, Willow, no pain, no gain.” Caleb shakes his finger at me. “Besides, this is what you wanted. You've got to see it through.”
“I know,” I grumble, pushing myself to the edge of the seat in preparation to leave. “Do you want to practice with me sometime?”
“I've got a busy week lined up, so I don't have time right now, to be honest.” He scratches the back of his neck, stepping towards the door to lead me out.
I frown, wondering if it will really be possible for me to catch up with Peter by practicing on my own.
11
Caleb
My work week has been absolutely grueling. I've had clients back-to-back for the most part. Today, an elderly lady hurt herself on some equipment when I had my back turned. I need a drink like it's nobody's business, and I kind of just want to hide from the world.
When I finish with my last client for the night, I text Peter and ask him to meet me at a nearby bar. He's blessedly free, so I don't have to drink alone, which is exactly what I would have ended up doing if he wasn't available. I could have invited Willow out, but there's only so much listening to her gush over Peter that I can stand, and at this point in time I've run out of patience with it.
We settle in at the bar, and I order a double shot of Crown with coke. Almost as soon as the glass is set in front of me, I chug the entire thing. My first appointment in the morning isn't until 10 AM, so I have a little bit of leeway for drinking tonight.
“What do you got going on this weekend?” I ask Peter absentmindedly, just trying to make conversation.
“It's going to be a busy, busy weekend for me.” He smiles mischievously.
“You bastard, you've got a date, don't you?” I know that smile like the back of my hand. He holds up three fingers. “Three?” My eyes widen in surprise. “How did you manage that?”
“You know I've always been popular with the ladies,” he tells me smugly.
“So, you have three dates with the same girl or dates with three different women?”
“Three different women.”
I sigh and shake my head at him.
“What? Jealous?” He smirks at me.
“No.” I roll my eyes.
“Then what?”
“When are you going to stop being a player and settle down with someone?” I think about Willow as I say it. It feels almost like she's talking for me. Seriously, though, this guy gets more ass than a toilet seat. I can't even imagine sleeping with as many women as he does.
“Why should I settle down?” Peter sips his drink, amused by my shift in mood.
“Because you're almost thirty.” I furrow my brow at him. “Isn't that when most people usually get married?”
“Ah, but I'm not most people.” He raises his glass to me. “I'm attractive, wealthy, and the boss of my own company. There's no reason why I won't be able to date multiple girls well into my fifties. Maybe even older.”
“But then they just want you for your money,” I remind him.
“Do you think that matters to me? I just want them for the sex. They never get my money.”
I cringe internally at how douchey he sounds.
“Do you think you're ever going to want to get married?” I ask.
“Perhaps.” Peter looks thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe someday. But not now. Not anytime soon. I'm in the prime of my life right now. I just want to live.”
I think about how Willow is chasing a dream, and it makes my heart ache for her. I know it's not Peter's fault that he's not her ideal version of him, but it still sucks.
“Willow told me that you played tennis together,” I segue into bringing her into the conversation.
“Who?” He seems confused for a moment, but then it dawns on him. “Oh, Miss Stroop. Yeah. You know, you were wrong about her being able to keep her mouth shut.”
I cringe internally. Did she really go blab to the entire office already? If she hadn't struck out with him before, then she definitely has now.
“I'm not sure if she was ever as good at tennis as she claims she was,” Peter continues, staring out into nothing.
“Four years is a long time ago.” I come to her defense the best that I can. “If you went easier on her, then maybe she'd start to play better.”
“Not a chance,” he laughs before turning to me. “Hey, are you coming to baseball practice tomorrow?”
“It depends on if I have a client or not, you know how it goes.” I sigh, already knowing I'm booked up for that time slot. Just thinking about my full day tomorrow makes me feel exhausted. It also makes me want to drink more.
“You should bring Miss Stroop along since she enjoys sports so much,” Peter suggests.
The fact that he's inviting her after he just complained about her blabbing completely catches me off guard. I'm really not sure what to think. Maybe Willow's strange charm is working on him in some way after all.
I throw back two more drinks before I'm ready to leave. By the time we walk out of the bar, I'm teetering somewhere between buzzed and drunk. At least, I'm in a much better mood than I was before we came. That is...until I get home and Willow starts pounding on my apartment door.
I haven't even been inside for five minutes before I hear the incessant knocking. Part of me knows it would be best to just ignore her right now, but I also know she saw me come in. Saw me come in or heard me come in. One way or another, she knows I'm home, and that means I really can't avoid her.
I open the door, and she marches right past me like she owns the place. I groan internally, hoping that I'll be able to get rid of her soon. I'm tired, and I definitely don't feel like talking about Peter for an indeterminable amount of time.
“Where were you?” she asks before plopping down on my sofa. Max diverts to her, the only benefit of having her around right now.
“I was at the bar having drinks with Peter,” I confess, knowing that I just opened up the Peter floodgates but not wanting to lie to her.
“Did he say anything about me?” Willo
w pets Max but keeps her eyes locked on me.
“He invited you to come to baseball practice tomorrow,” I tell her before yawning exaggeratedly, hoping she'll get the hint that I want her to leave.
She bounces and claps her hands together in excitement. Max feeds from her energy, doing several circles before shoving his nose under her hand and demanding to be petted.
“Do you even know how to play baseball?” I run my fingers through my hair
“No. But it's okay because you can teach me like you taught me how to play tennis.”
Frustration flares up within me. It's like she just expects me to jump into action and come to her aid whenever she calls. She doesn't even consider that I might be tired or have to work. So selfish.
“I can't possibly teach you how to play baseball in one night.” I cross my arms over my chest. “And besides, I'm really tired right now.”
Willow pushes herself to the edge of her seat and clasps her hands together. “Please, Caleb. You're such a good teacher, I'm sure you could do it.”
“There's no point to it anyway.” I allow my bad mood to get the best of me, reflecting back on what Peter said. It's time to let the cat out of the bag. No matter how much it hurts, this band-aid needs to be ripped off for all of our sakes.
“Why not?” Her smile contorts in confusion.
“Because Peter is going out on three dates with three different girls this weekend.” I can't even look at her as I deliver the news.
I watch her deflate in my peripheral vision, but almost as soon as she's finished slumping she sits up tall again. “It doesn't matter.”
“What?”
“If I don't keep trying to get close to him, then I'll never have the chance to marry him.”
My mouth falls agape at her stubbornness, and I've finally had enough. “You're never going to marry him, Willow, because he's not ready to be tied down.”
She sticks her nose up to me. “Any man who falls in love can be swayed.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” I clutch my face in my hand, so annoyed that I want to yell. “Are you really so selfish that you only think about what you want? That no one else matters? No one else's feelings or time?”
“This is just something I have to work hard for. It will happen if I put in the effort and have faith.” She sinks away from me slightly, her voice becoming smaller.
“It won't,” I insist. “Peter told me that he doesn't date people he works with.”
She seems taken aback, her gaze falling to the ground as my words sink in. “If you knew that then why did you agree to help me?”
“Because I felt sorry for you,” I confess. “I felt guilty about what happened in the past. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to be your friend.”
Willow stands abruptly and stomps towards the door. “You know what? You're just as much of an asshole as you were back then, and I should have known better than to ever have trusted you.”
Her seething words echo in my ears long after the door slams behind her. They're like a slap, except that I'm too numb from the alcohol to fully feel it. I should have known this would happen. I should have told her the truth from the beginning—not pressed so hard to bring the two of them together.
In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter, though. The result would have been the same. Willow would hate me, and she'd see me as an enemy all over again.
I take a shower and go to bed, doing my best not to think about what went down between us. The alcohol helps, lulling me into a deep and dreamless sleep. I wake up the next morning feeling refreshed but still a little upset from the confrontation.
Work is a good distraction, especially when I have clients back-to-back. I'd almost forgotten about the incident completely until I see Becky walk in. Thankfully, I'm done with my appointments for the day, and I'm just about to be on my way out as soon as I finish wiping down the equipment that my last client used.
I was hoping not to have to speak to her, but Becky dashes that hope by walking right up to me.
“Whatcha doing?” She asks, clasping her hands together in front of her and swaying slightly.
She looks like a high schooler in a pink jersey, track shorts, and her hair held up by an enormous bow. Her eyes are large and curious—eyes that have probably seduced many a guy.
“Getting ready to leave.” I try my best not to make eye contact with her.
“I have a question for you, but it's kind of personal.” Becky juts her bottom lip out, looking demure in the most sexual of ways.
I finish wiping down the bicep curl machine and finally face her. “What is it?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I sigh inwardly, pretty sure about where this is going. “No.”
She immediately perks up. “Would you like one?”
“You sure are bold.” I can't help but laugh.
“You can't get what you want if you don't go for it, right?” She grins from ear to ear.
It reminds me of what Willow said in my apartment, and it dampens my mood as I think about our argument.
I drag my tongue across my bottom lip. “I'm taking a break from dating right now?”
“Why?” Becky tilts her head to the side.
I don't feel like lying. “Because I got my heart stomped on.” More like completely pulverized.
“Not all girls are going to stomp on your heart, you know.”
"I know. I'm just not healed enough from it to be ready for another romantic relationship right now, or probably anytime soon.” I gaze past her, trying to think of a way to make her leave me alone. “So, which one of the guys at the bar the other day was your boyfriend?”
“None of them. They're just all my admirers,” she tells me blatantly without shame.
I snort. “Why don't you just date one of them?”
“Because then they wouldn't be my admirers anymore.” Her grin turns impish. “I like that they follow me around, buy me drinks, and do stuff for me. I keep my friend zone nice and full.”
Wow. This girl. I don't know what to think of her.
“Good for you.” I nod, a smile plastered on my face from how unbelievable she is. “Sorry, but I'm not interested in being a part of your friend zone harem.”
“I know. You've made that more than apparent.”
“Well, I was just on my way out.” I cast an almost desperate glance at the door, wanting to escape this awkward situation.
“Would you like to get dinner with me?”
The question catches me off guard. “But...you just got here.”
“I know, but I don't really need to work out.” She looks at the treadmills before her eyes return to my face. “Besides, I'd rather spend more time with you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” My expression puckers slightly, knowing that I'm going to offend her.
Surprisingly, she just smiles. “I'll buy.”
A free meal? That gets my attention.
I chew my bottom lip while I consider her offer. If Willow knew I was even thinking about hanging out with Becky, she'd probably be pissed. Almost as soon as I think it, I wonder why it should even matter. According to her, we're not friends anymore, so I should just do whatever I want. And right now, free food does sound good. The company could be better, but it's not like I hate Becky. She's never wronged me or been rude to me. I see no reason why I can't indulge her with my presence for a little while. And besides, it might actually be fun. Her tenacious flirting is definitely an ego boost.
“Sure. Dinner sounds good."
12
Willow
I haven't been this depressed since before I moved. While I usually enjoy going to work, today just feels like torture. I don't even bother glancing at Peter as I pass him to get to my desk. There's no point anyway. Everything I've done to get close to him has been a complete waste of time.
I drop myself heavily into my chair. Becky is already at her desk, humming happily.
She turns to me, slapping her thighs
, though I can't tell if it's because she's excited or trying to get my attention. “Guess what I did last night.”
“I don't care,” I groan, pushing my keyboard aside to rest my head on my desk.
“Rude.” She huffs. “What put you in such a foul mood?”
I sigh, feeling like a bitch. It takes all of my strength, but I sit back up to face her. “I'm sorry. What did you do last night, Becky?” My lack of genuine interest is clear in my voice.
“I went out on a date with your friend,” she says proudly.
“My friend,” I mouth the word before I realize she's talking about Caleb. My eyes fly open is disbelief. “Really? Did you?” I make a sexual gesture with my fingers because I can't force myself to say it.
“Wouldn't you like to know,” she replies smugly. “I think it went really well for a first date.”
She continues to speak, but I don't really listen beyond that. I'm too busy being shocked and angry and so many other unpleasant things. Her vagueness is a good implication that they did have sex, which makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.
I know I'm about to fall apart, so I excuse myself to the bathroom, cutting her off mid-sentence. I fly into the first available stall, locking the door and covering my mouth with my hand as the first wrecking sob comes out. I practically fall back onto the toilet, my ass hitting the seat hard. I barely feel it with all of the pain winding through me.
I try to stifle the sounds of my crying, but I know I can't return to my seat until I let this all out. Between my argument with Caleb and this little bit of news, I feel completely destroyed. It seems like everyone is coupling up around me, and I can't even get a date to save my life. Becky didn't even have to really try and she landed Caleb. Peter is seeing three different women this weekend.
On top of all of that, Caleb lied to me about not liking Becky. Stupid lying jerk. If he was interested in her, he could have just told me. He didn't have to hide it.