Hate the Game

by Holly Hall

  “Fair point.”

  “What brought you here?”

  “Same as most Midwestern girls, I imagine. The big-city dream.”

  “Is it? A dream?”

  A noise came from my throat, a mix between a grunt and a scoff. “It’s reality, is what it is. But I have no regrets.”

  “Earlier you said it’d been a long week,” he said. “There weren’t any issues with your part of the Wellness thing, were there?”

  “No, nothing about that.” I waved a hand. “But I don’t want to bog you down with work stuff. I want to enjoy this.”

  “I’m enjoying this. I hope you are.” He raised his bottle. “I like to think I make decent company.”

  “Decent?”

  “Yeah, hey, I’m not cocky. You could decide tonight I’m super boring and you never want to see me again.”

  “Or maybe I already did but decided I wanted a free meal out of the whole thing,” I teased. One drink down and I was already going with the flow instead of overthinking every syllable. I was enjoying this.

  His eyebrows tugged upward. “A free meal?”

  “I mean . . . I don’t mean . . . not if you—” A wry smile appeared, held in one corner of his mouth. “See,” I said helplessly, “crunchy peanut butter.”

  “I’m messing with you. But if I’m buying—which I’d love to do, in case I hadn’t made that clear—then are you saying this is a date?”

  I focused on the napkin I was smoothing across my legs. “Would you like this to be a date?”

  “Nuh-uh. I asked you first.”

  I sniffed. Did I have the balls to say it?

  Too late, because vodka was flowing through my veins, inspiring my next string of word-vomit. “Okay, yes. I would like for this to be a date.”

  “I would like for that too,” he said, motioning toward my glass. “Want another?”

  “I do, but I shouldn’t. I don’t want to be. . .”

  “Crazy?” he finished for me, then shrugged. “If you’re having a good time, order another. If you want it. Forget the shoulds and should-nots.”

  “You’re a terrible influence.”

  “Or maybe I’m the best influence.”

  I ordered the second drink. And I had the best night I’d had in a while. Granted, my cheeks were permanently pink, and a couple hours in they were aching, but Theo was so easy to be around. The jokes came naturally, he countered my self-deprecating sarcasm with wit of his own, and any reservations I’d had coming into this night slid away.

  It was only on the way home that I realized he hadn’t once mentioned the workout session we were supposed to be planning. Theo was now telling me stories about his regulars, and I wasn’t about to interrupt him to discuss which physical activities I felt comfortable stumbling through for the sake of a measly bonus.

  Maybe I was just captivated by the way he’d become more animated after every drink, or the smile lines that deepened at the corners of his eyes.

  Our apartment building sliding into view through the car windows served as a reminder that we were close to saying good-bye. Or, maybe we weren’t. The last time I’d been on a first date was almost two years ago, and Liam and I had arrived and left separately, no indecision about if he’d come to my place or I’d go to his. And that spark, although it’d existed, paled in comparison to this one.

  My brain working at the speed of a rabbit on crack meant I was silent on the walk from the street to the elevator. I simply had no resources to delegate to coy conversation. And then we were in the elevator and Theo turned to me.

  Looked down from his nearly six-foot stature.

  Licked his lips.

  Oh shit, this is it.

  “Man, that was delicious,” he said instead of kissing me, palming his stomach that was just as flat as it’d been earlier. As for me, I had what I estimated to be a four-month food baby. “I’m stuffed.”

  I shook my head, bemused. “Same.”

  “From your salad?”

  “It was a big salad. And tasty.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” The elevator dinged and we stepped off.

  “I did. I enjoyed everything about tonight.”

  Those lines around his eyes creased at me again. It was probably my favorite thing about him. “I did too.”

  “We did not, however, discuss the workout thing.”

  “Ahh, right. I knew there was something we were forgetting.” His unsurprised tone told me he hadn’t forgotten at all.

  We stopped in the hallway between his apartment and mine, but instead of feeling the tug toward either of our doors, I simply felt the gravitational pull of him.

  “Guess that means I’ll have to see you again,” Theo said, stepping closer. And his earnest expression and the desire in his eyes got to me.

  “Hook, line, and sinker.” It was a comment probably more suitable for him, being a Texas boy.

  “What did you say?” he asked, and I repeated the line. He closed the gap between us, and I felt my back meet the cheap material of the door I’d unwittingly retreated toward. “Does that mean you’re not opposed to seeing me again?”

  “Better idea.” I held up a finger before realizing I was creating a barrier between his lips and mine, the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. “Why don’t you come inside, and we can keep talking about it?” That sounded desperate. Why did I sound so desperate?

  Theo’s hand raised to my face, and his thumb ever so softly traced the curve of my lower lip. He dropped his head, probably squatting in the process, given our height difference, and then his lips grazed the line his thumb had made. He was kissing me. Hot Neighbor was kissing me.

  “This isn’t liquid lipstick,” I warned, imagining him wearing the shade I’d put on my lips. “It’s not smudge-proof.”

  He drew back far enough for me to see the barest smile. “I don’t care if you don’t.” Then his mouth was on mine again, and all worries about lipstick and workouts and lace panties scattered like dust in the wind.

  Wait, had I remembered to put on my good underwear? I imagined myself pulling granny panties over my hips, beneath the cover of the dress I’d used to trick him into thinking I was sexy. He’d be so disappointed.

  “Are you okay?” Theo asked. Dammit. I’d done it again.

  “Yes. More than okay. Do you want to come in so we can continue this inside?” Maybe I’d be able to focus on kissing the man like I’d been wanting to since the day we met, and I could confirm that I was, or wasn’t, wearing period panties.

  His smile was soft and . . . regretful? He ran his hand around my neck and kissed me again, before straightening. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. We sooo shouldn’t.” I cleared my throat.

  “Not because I don’t want to—”

  “You want to?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. But I was a terrible influence. I don’t want you to think this was the endgame when I pushed you to get that drink.

  It was sweet, when I looked past my reflex to be offended. The goal to loosen me up wasn’t totally misogynistic. I was having fun. I was refreshed. I was . . . a little hazy, maybe, but it was a good hazy. Like I was floating.

  “I don’t. Think that, I mean. I want to.”

  He touched my cheek again, and it nearly sent my maybe-granny panties through the floor. “Next time. If you’ll have me.”

  “I will have you.” Seriously? Insta-cringe.

  “Alright then.” He backed up a step, to the middle of the hallway. “Good night, Ava.”

  “Good night, Theo.”

  As soon as I stepped behind my door, my buzz evaporated, and I was already thinking of ways he’d try to avoid me after that awful kiss.

  Chapter 13

  Ava

  Me: We need to start phase two of operation Trick My Brain Into Thinking I’m Working Out

  Theo: I like it. You free on Saturday?

  Me: Let me check my schedule

  Me: Yes

  Theo: Perfect.
Wear a swimsuit

  Me: …

  Wear a swimsuit? Wear. A. Swimsuit? As if that’s a comment you can casually drop without warning or explanation?

  Hello, anxiety, old friend.

  I didn’t want to know what we’d be doing, and at the same time I did. I had to prepare to be in a swimsuit; there was a whole routine of scrubbing, waxing, and self-tanning that would commence. But no amount of prep would erase the extra fluff I told myself I’d lose a year ago.

  Also, I wanted to know what would be the cause of my untimely death. Would it be self-consciousness alone or drowning? Was he planning on taking me to a pool to swim laps? I hadn’t checked in with my lung capacity lately, but I was pretty sure it was lacking.

  Theo: Is that ok? Sorry, I didn’t realize how creepy that would sound until now

  Me: Just now, you realized that?

  Theo responded with the teeth-baring emoji I took to mean “oops.” But what was I going to say—that I hadn’t worn a bikini since spring break my senior year of college, and even then, everyone had been too inebriated to notice?

  Me: Yes. It’s okay

  Theo: Pick you up at your apartment around 11?

  Me: Perfect

  Now the pressure was on to find the ideal swimsuit. One that wasn’t too revealing but also didn’t scream “Grandma at water aerobics.” Did such a thing exist?

  For the first time in my life—outside of research purposes, that is—I found myself on the LoveLeigh blog page. Like most influencers on the fashion scene, Leigh posted a guide of trending swim styles every spring. Posts with titles like “Best Suits For Your Shape,” and “Live Your Best Life, Poolside.” It took me a few minutes of searches and scrolling, but I finally located one.

  “Suits to Conceal Every Problem Area.” Yikes. Way to hit a girl while she’s down. I wondered what our team was thinking when they put that headline together. If the goal was positivity, as was Leigh’s usual MO, they’d failed miserably. How was it that readers weren’t picking up on this?

  I jotted down a title I found more appealing in my planner before resuming my search. I’d be in Theo’s presence wearing nothing but my skivvies (basically) in just a few short days, and I had to think of the least painful way to execute it.

  I fidgeted with my swim coverup while pretending to read an interior design book. Admittedly, I was mentally rifling through everything we could be doing today while my nausea grew. Theo was going to see me in a swimsuit, and we’d only been on one date. Swimming—or whatever we were doing—was something I classified for date number, like, ten.

  Maybe.

  My stomach leapt into my throat at the sound of a knock. Theo was in the hallway, his shoulder against the doorjamb, like he couldn’t care less about the prospect of showing off his cellulite. “Are you ready?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Hey, I didn’t fail you the first time we went out, did I? You can trust me.”

  “It has nothing to do with trust,” I said. But seeing him now, so openly optimistic and without reservations, put my fears of inadequacy about the other night to rest.

  “Do I need to bring anything special?”

  He rocked forward and pretended to peer inside the tote bag on my shoulder. “Other than the kitchen sink? No.”

  “I like to be prepared.”

  “I see that. And I imagine we won’t be getting sunburned today.”

  “Sunscreen!” I snapped my fingers. “The one thing I forgot.”

  “The one thing I remembered.” He pivoted to show me his backpack. “Got us covered. You ready?”

  I hoped it was at least SPF 80 or I’d be lobster-hued the rest of the week, but instead of asking about it like some kind of psycho, I put on my most confident face and followed him outside.

  Much like the other night, I was in the dark for much of the ride through the city. Sunlight glimmered off the surface of the Chicago River when we crossed, making even it appear cheerful, and people were out in droves. The sidewalks swelled with pedestrians, and patrons lazed in outdoor dining areas. Say what you want about the crowds in the city—or the pollution, or the crime—but summer in Chicago was unmatched. The only thing better was cozying up inside when winter hit.

  When we continued east, I caught on that we were headed for the lake. Maybe Navy Pier? But that wouldn’t necessitate a swimsuit, and it hardly fulfilled the requirement for physical activity. That left the beach.

  Images of doing push-ups and bear crawls through the sand flitted through my mind, and my nausea resurfaced.

  “You’re quiet today,” Theo commented. “Usually you’re talking a mile a minute.”

  I cringed. Visibly, by the understanding look on his face. “Sorry. I’m sure I’ve overshared and talked your ear off the few times we’ve been together.”

  “Don’t apologize for being you. I like it.”

  “You’re just being nice. When I’m nervous I’m either completely silent or I can’t shut up. No happy medium.”

  “I’m not just being nice. I have a feeling you’re more honest in those moments, whether you want to be or not.”

  “Most of the time, not,” I said. And he either was being totally polite and was an excellent actor, or he really did find my chatter to be charming, because he was still around.

  The feeling of his hand on my leg when he squeezed my knee sent something zinging through me. “Well, it makes me laugh either way. And life is too short to be anything but honest.”

  The car turned into a parking lot near North Avenue Beach, and I climbed out after him. Here goes nothing.

  Rather than heading straight for the water, Theo took off toward a building that housed beach rentals of all kinds. Rows of brightly colored bikes stretched on either side of the building. We approached one of the open windows, and one of the guys inside glanced over and nodded when he saw Theo.

  “What’s up, man?” he said, greeting him like an old friend.

  “Not a lot, just been working like crazy.”

  “I noticed. I haven’t seen you in months, it feels like.” The guy gestured to a side door. “Let me grab your boards and meet you around the side.”

  Boards? What the hell kind of boards? I hoped he didn’t mean skateboards, unless Theo had a thing for role-play and planned on playing nurse the rest of the weekend. I wouldn’t stand a chance even on four wheels.

  Around the side of the building, two boards leaned side by side against the wall. I felt a deep sense of relief when I saw they did not have wheels attached, but I had to crane my neck to look at them; they were twice the size of me.

  “I know you don’t need a tutorial, but have you ever been paddle-boarding?” The question was directed at me, I realized, when both men turned to me.

  I shook my head quickly, eliciting a laugh from the guy.

  “There’s nothing to it, but I’ll let Theo do the honors. You up for it, brother?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Theo said, and after making arrangements to stash our stuff in the building, we ducked inside a dim, empty hallway. Theo slid off his backpack and whipped off his shirt. And time stopped.

  The me of a month ago would’ve rolled my eyes at that saying, but the me of a month ago had never seen Theo shirtless. More muscles than I knew existed rolled beneath his skin, and thank goodness he had his back to me and I had a moment to pull my jaw off the floor. Then I remembered it was my turn.

  “Are we going to get wet on those things?” I shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Probably. You could fall off. And it’s pretty hot out there, we might jump in at some point. Why?”

  Oh, just weighing the chances of getting heat stroke in my coverup against the image of me, a mere mortal, walking around in next-to-nothing beside this toned god. “No reason.”

  “You can keep that on, if you really want to,” he said, stuffing his shirt into his bag.

  I looked down at my coverup and swallowed. Hiding beneath it would probably do nothing but hint
that I, indeed, had something to hide. Besides, being my neighbor, it was only a matter of time before Theo saw my body anyway. The fire alarms in our building tended to go off at disadvantageous moments; like in the middle of a bath, as was the case last year.

  “Here’s the sunscreen,” Theo said, handing me the tube. “I’m gonna make sure everything’s squared away with Jake. I’ll be waiting for you outside, okay?”

  Theo

  Ava’s answering “okay” was barely more than a squeak. She didn’t have to tell me she was nervous. Her shifting around and tugging on the drawstrings of her almost see-through swim-dress thing told me everything. So I gave her some room to breathe while I shot the shit outside with Jake.

  “Thanks for setting these aside, man,” I said, jabbing a thumb toward the boards. I adjusted the cords on my sunglasses that would keep them afloat in case I capsized.

  “Not a problem.” He selected two paddles from a stack and propped them beside the boards. “So what’s the story with this girl? You finally dating again?”

  “Uh, not officially. She’s my neighbor.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s convenient.”

  He had no idea. “Yeah. I figured this would be a fun way to get to know each other. You know, no pressure.”

  “Get to know each other, huh? You’re saying you haven’t—”

  “Nah,” I said quickly, hoping Ava wouldn’t choose that moment to walk out the door and into this conversation. “The dry spell continues.”

  Jake snorted. “Dry spell. Right. So what’s-her-face hasn’t come crawling back?”

  There were moments I was grateful for Jake, one of the few close friends I’d made since moving to Chicago, but there were also moments when it was a punch to the nut-sack. Him mentioning my cheating ex-fiancée, for one. “Not since she sent me that pathetic text saying she didn’t love the guy she was fucking, and that that should count for something.”

  “Well, the future is looking bright for you, bro. This one’s cute.” He dipped his head toward the door right before it was pushed open and Ava walked out.

  “More than just cute,” I said lowly to Jake before turning to her. Ava was wearing one of those swimsuits that came up just below her belly button, emphasizing curves for days. She was turning her sunglasses over in her hands when she joined us. She was gorgeous, and she acted like she didn’t know it. For all I knew, she didn’t.