Beautiful Player
Page 108
It took a moment for the pieces to come together, and when they did, I couldn’t even contain my shock. I felt my mouth fall open, my eyes go wide. How could he possibly think this was even remotely okay? I looked from her to Will, who, I quickly realized, seemed as surprised as I was to find her standing there. Hadn’t he seen her approach?
Will’s face could have been at the dictionary entry for uncomfortable. “Oh God.” He looked back and forth between us for a flash before murmuring, “Oh, shit, um . . . hey, Kitty, this is . . .” He looked to me, his eyes softening. “This is my Hanna.”
I blinked to him. What had he said?
“Nice to meet you, Hanna. Will has told me all about you.”
I knew they were speaking but the words didn’t seem to penetrate the echo of that sentence repeating over and over again in my head. This is my Hanna. This is my Hanna.
It was a mistake. He was just uncomfortable. I pointed over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go.” Turning, I stumbled away from the table and toward the women’s tent.
“Hanna!” he called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
I was still a bit foggy when I handed over my information, got my race number, and walked over to an empty spot to stretch and lace up my shoes. At the sound of footsteps, I looked up, already dreading what I would find. Seeing Kitty standing there, it was worse than I thought.
“He’s really something,” she said, pinning her number to the front of her shirt.
I lowered my eyes, ignored the fire that flared low in my belly. “Yeah, sure is.”
She sat on a bench a few feet away and began peeling the label from a bottle of water. “You know, I never thought this would happen.” She shook her head, laughing. “All this time and he’s always used the It’s not you. I just don’t want more with anybody excuse. And now? Now that he finally ends things, it’s because he does want more. Just with someone else.”
I sat up, met her eyes. “He ended things with you?”
“Yeah. Well,” she said, considering. “This week was the official end but we hadn’t really seen each other since . . .” She looked up at the ceiling of the tent, considering. “Since February? And he’d been canceling on me ever since.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“At least I know why now.” I must have looked completely dumbstruck because she smiled, leaned in a little bit. “Because he’s in love with you. And if you’re as amazing as he seems to think you are, you won’t blow this.”I don’t remember crossing the park to where the other runners were gathered. My thoughts were hazy and jumbled.
February?
We had only been running then . . .
. . . March—that’s when Will and I actually started sleeping together. . . .
Tuesday night . . . so he could end things, face-to-face.
Like a decent human being, like a good man. I closed my eyes when the full force of the realization hit me: he told her all of this even after I broke up with him.
“You ready for this?”
I jumped, surprised to see Will standing next to me. He put a hand on my arm, offering a tentative smile. “You okay?”
I looked around, as if I could escape somewhere and just . . . think. I wasn’t ready for him to stand this close or talk like we were friends again, to be nice. I had such an enormous apology to make, and I still had an angry earful to give him for lying. . . . I didn’t even know where to start. I met his eyes, looked for any sign there telling me that we could fix this. “I think so.”
“Hey,” he said, taking the smallest step closer. “Hanna . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You’re . . . you’re going to do great.” His eyes searched mine, heavy with anxiety, and it made my stomach twist with guilt. “I know things are weird with us. Just put everything else out of your head. You need to be here, head in the race. You trained so impressively for it and you can do it.”
I exhaled, felt the first flare of pre-race, non-Will anxiety.
Kneading my shoulders, he murmured, “Nervous?”
“A little.”
I saw the moment he switched into trainer mode and I took some small level of comfort in it, grabbed on to this splinter of platonic familiarity.
“Remember to pace yourself. Don’t start off too fast. The second half is the worst and you’ll want to keep enough in the tank to finish, okay?”
I nodded.
“Remember, this is your first race and it’s about crossing the finish line, not where you place.”
Will’s face could have been at the dictionary entry for uncomfortable. “Oh God.” He looked back and forth between us for a flash before murmuring, “Oh, shit, um . . . hey, Kitty, this is . . .” He looked to me, his eyes softening. “This is my Hanna.”
I blinked to him. What had he said?
“Nice to meet you, Hanna. Will has told me all about you.”
I knew they were speaking but the words didn’t seem to penetrate the echo of that sentence repeating over and over again in my head. This is my Hanna. This is my Hanna.
It was a mistake. He was just uncomfortable. I pointed over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go.” Turning, I stumbled away from the table and toward the women’s tent.
“Hanna!” he called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
I was still a bit foggy when I handed over my information, got my race number, and walked over to an empty spot to stretch and lace up my shoes. At the sound of footsteps, I looked up, already dreading what I would find. Seeing Kitty standing there, it was worse than I thought.
“He’s really something,” she said, pinning her number to the front of her shirt.
I lowered my eyes, ignored the fire that flared low in my belly. “Yeah, sure is.”
She sat on a bench a few feet away and began peeling the label from a bottle of water. “You know, I never thought this would happen.” She shook her head, laughing. “All this time and he’s always used the It’s not you. I just don’t want more with anybody excuse. And now? Now that he finally ends things, it’s because he does want more. Just with someone else.”
I sat up, met her eyes. “He ended things with you?”
“Yeah. Well,” she said, considering. “This week was the official end but we hadn’t really seen each other since . . .” She looked up at the ceiling of the tent, considering. “Since February? And he’d been canceling on me ever since.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“At least I know why now.” I must have looked completely dumbstruck because she smiled, leaned in a little bit. “Because he’s in love with you. And if you’re as amazing as he seems to think you are, you won’t blow this.”I don’t remember crossing the park to where the other runners were gathered. My thoughts were hazy and jumbled.
February?
We had only been running then . . .
. . . March—that’s when Will and I actually started sleeping together. . . .
Tuesday night . . . so he could end things, face-to-face.
Like a decent human being, like a good man. I closed my eyes when the full force of the realization hit me: he told her all of this even after I broke up with him.
“You ready for this?”
I jumped, surprised to see Will standing next to me. He put a hand on my arm, offering a tentative smile. “You okay?”
I looked around, as if I could escape somewhere and just . . . think. I wasn’t ready for him to stand this close or talk like we were friends again, to be nice. I had such an enormous apology to make, and I still had an angry earful to give him for lying. . . . I didn’t even know where to start. I met his eyes, looked for any sign there telling me that we could fix this. “I think so.”
“Hey,” he said, taking the smallest step closer. “Hanna . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You’re . . . you’re going to do great.” His eyes searched mine, heavy with anxiety, and it made my stomach twist with guilt. “I know things are weird with us. Just put everything else out of your head. You need to be here, head in the race. You trained so impressively for it and you can do it.”
I exhaled, felt the first flare of pre-race, non-Will anxiety.
Kneading my shoulders, he murmured, “Nervous?”
“A little.”
I saw the moment he switched into trainer mode and I took some small level of comfort in it, grabbed on to this splinter of platonic familiarity.
“Remember to pace yourself. Don’t start off too fast. The second half is the worst and you’ll want to keep enough in the tank to finish, okay?”
I nodded.
“Remember, this is your first race and it’s about crossing the finish line, not where you place.”
