Beautiful Player
Page 99
Will started to speak but paused, and I stepped back a bit to make sure my long shadow wouldn’t be visible to anyone standing in the garage.
“I am seeing a few people,” Will started, and I could just picture him scratching his jaw. “But no, Ziggy isn’t one of them. She’s just a good friend.”
I felt like I’d been dropped in ice water, goose bumps spreading along my skin and despite knowing he was just following the rules we’d agreed on, my stomach dropped.
Will went on: “Actually, I am . . . interested in exploring something more with one of the women I’m seeing.” My heart started to hammer, and I was tempted to step forward, and keep him from saying too much. But then he added, “So I feel like I should end it with the other women I’m seeing. I think for the first time I might want more . . . but this girl has been cagey, and it’s been hard to take that extra step and just cut off the old routine, you know?”
My arms felt like limp noodles and I leaned against the gate, steadying myself. My brother said something in reply, but I wasn’t really listening anymore.To say the atmosphere in the car was merely tense was laughable. We’d been on the road for almost an hour and I’d barely strung together more than two words at a time.
Are you hungry?
No.
Temperature okay? Too warm? Too cold?
It’s fine.
Could you put this into the GPS?
Sure.
Mind if we stop for a bathroom break?
Okay.
The worst part was that I was pretty sure I was being bratty and unfair. With what Will said to Jensen, he was only following the rules that I’d put out there. I’d never really expected him to be exclusive before last night.
Open your mouth, Hanna. Tell him what you want.
“You okay over there?” he asked, ducking briefly to catch my eyes. “You’re being awfully monosyllabic.”
I turned and watched his profile as he drove: his stubbly jaw, his lips curled up in a smile just knowing I was staring at him. He let his eyes dart my way a couple of times, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. It was so much more than sex. He was my best friend. He was the one I wanted to call boyfriend.
The idea of him being with other women this whole time made me faintly nauseous. I was pretty sure that, after this weekend, he wouldn’t be with them again since—Jesus—we’d had sex without a condom. If that didn’t warrant a serious discussion, I didn’t know what did.
I felt so close to him; I really felt like we had become something much more than friends.
I pressed my hands to my eyes, feeling jealous and nervous and . . . God, just so impatient for us to figure it out now. Why was it easy to talk to Will about every feeling I had but the ones we needed to declare between us?
When we stopped at a gas station to refuel, I distracted myself by going through the music on his phone, building the proper sequence of words in my head. Finding a song I was pretty sure he hated, I smiled, watching him hang up the pump, walk back to his side of the car.
He climbed back in, his hand hovering with the key perched in the ignition. “Garth Brooks?”
“If you don’t like it, then why is it on your phone?” I teased. This was good, this was a start, I thought. Actual words were a step in the right direction. Ease into the conversation; prepare a soft landing and then jump.
He gave me a playful sour look, as if he’d tasted something gross, and started the engine to pull away. The words cycled through my head: I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. Please tell me you haven’t been with anyone else in the past couple of weeks, when things seemed so good with us. Please tell me that hadn’t all been in my mind.
I opened his iTunes and started scrolling through his music again, looking for something better, something that made my mood lighter and more sure of myself, when a text message flashed across his screen.
Sorry I missed this yesterday! Yes! I’m free Tuesday night and I can’t wait to see you. My place? xoxox
Kitty.
I don’t think I took a breath for an entire minute.
Turning off the screen, I sank lower into my seat, feeling like someone had reached down my throat and pulled my stomach inside out. My veins flushed hot with adrenaline, with embarrassment, with anger. Sometime between f**king me without a condom at my parents’ house yesterday afternoon and kissing my neck this morning, Will had messaged Kitty about getting together on Tuesday.
I looked out the window as we pulled away from the gas station and got back on the road, dropping the phone gently into his lap.
A few minutes later he glanced at his phone before wordlessly putting it back down.
“I am seeing a few people,” Will started, and I could just picture him scratching his jaw. “But no, Ziggy isn’t one of them. She’s just a good friend.”
I felt like I’d been dropped in ice water, goose bumps spreading along my skin and despite knowing he was just following the rules we’d agreed on, my stomach dropped.
Will went on: “Actually, I am . . . interested in exploring something more with one of the women I’m seeing.” My heart started to hammer, and I was tempted to step forward, and keep him from saying too much. But then he added, “So I feel like I should end it with the other women I’m seeing. I think for the first time I might want more . . . but this girl has been cagey, and it’s been hard to take that extra step and just cut off the old routine, you know?”
My arms felt like limp noodles and I leaned against the gate, steadying myself. My brother said something in reply, but I wasn’t really listening anymore.To say the atmosphere in the car was merely tense was laughable. We’d been on the road for almost an hour and I’d barely strung together more than two words at a time.
Are you hungry?
No.
Temperature okay? Too warm? Too cold?
It’s fine.
Could you put this into the GPS?
Sure.
Mind if we stop for a bathroom break?
Okay.
The worst part was that I was pretty sure I was being bratty and unfair. With what Will said to Jensen, he was only following the rules that I’d put out there. I’d never really expected him to be exclusive before last night.
Open your mouth, Hanna. Tell him what you want.
“You okay over there?” he asked, ducking briefly to catch my eyes. “You’re being awfully monosyllabic.”
I turned and watched his profile as he drove: his stubbly jaw, his lips curled up in a smile just knowing I was staring at him. He let his eyes dart my way a couple of times, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. It was so much more than sex. He was my best friend. He was the one I wanted to call boyfriend.
The idea of him being with other women this whole time made me faintly nauseous. I was pretty sure that, after this weekend, he wouldn’t be with them again since—Jesus—we’d had sex without a condom. If that didn’t warrant a serious discussion, I didn’t know what did.
I felt so close to him; I really felt like we had become something much more than friends.
I pressed my hands to my eyes, feeling jealous and nervous and . . . God, just so impatient for us to figure it out now. Why was it easy to talk to Will about every feeling I had but the ones we needed to declare between us?
When we stopped at a gas station to refuel, I distracted myself by going through the music on his phone, building the proper sequence of words in my head. Finding a song I was pretty sure he hated, I smiled, watching him hang up the pump, walk back to his side of the car.
He climbed back in, his hand hovering with the key perched in the ignition. “Garth Brooks?”
“If you don’t like it, then why is it on your phone?” I teased. This was good, this was a start, I thought. Actual words were a step in the right direction. Ease into the conversation; prepare a soft landing and then jump.
He gave me a playful sour look, as if he’d tasted something gross, and started the engine to pull away. The words cycled through my head: I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. Please tell me you haven’t been with anyone else in the past couple of weeks, when things seemed so good with us. Please tell me that hadn’t all been in my mind.
I opened his iTunes and started scrolling through his music again, looking for something better, something that made my mood lighter and more sure of myself, when a text message flashed across his screen.
Sorry I missed this yesterday! Yes! I’m free Tuesday night and I can’t wait to see you. My place? xoxox
Kitty.
I don’t think I took a breath for an entire minute.
Turning off the screen, I sank lower into my seat, feeling like someone had reached down my throat and pulled my stomach inside out. My veins flushed hot with adrenaline, with embarrassment, with anger. Sometime between f**king me without a condom at my parents’ house yesterday afternoon and kissing my neck this morning, Will had messaged Kitty about getting together on Tuesday.
I looked out the window as we pulled away from the gas station and got back on the road, dropping the phone gently into his lap.
A few minutes later he glanced at his phone before wordlessly putting it back down.
