by Layla Hagen
Emilia: How do you know about that? I didn’t tell anyone.
Max: Who do you think happened to leave a basketball hoop for you to find?
I gasp, which earns me some ugly looks from the remaining seminar participants. I quickly mask it with a look of fake interest at the presenter. I count the seconds until everyone returns their gaze to the front before typing again.
Emilia: It was you?
The response comes right away.
Max: I knew you wouldn’t take a handout, so I just bought a hoop and broke it a bit, so you could fix it quickly. Then I made it look as if someone got rid of it and a makeshift backboard by throwing them away at the edge of the road.
I read the message a few times, allowing his words to sink in. The idea that a twelve-year-old Max planned and carried that out is… wow. I sucked at scoring in basketball, hence why I was the last one picked every time we played in teams. I vowed I’d get better. I saved my pocket money to buy a ball, but I still needed a hoop when I saw the discarded one and the wood plank next to my gate. I mounted them both on the branch of a tall tree in my yard and practiced for hours each day. Grams and I moved to Montana by the end of the summer, but I kicked ass in basketball on my new school’s team.
Sighing, I type back.
Emilia: I just melted a bit.
Max: Does that mean I get a free pass at eye training on Saturday during breakfast? It seems I can’t help myself anyway.
Shaking my head, I prepare to write back something witty when I notice that the battery sign in the right upper corner is red and blinking.
Emilia: My phone is going to die soon.
Max: I’ll take this as a yes.
Soon becomes right now, becomes a few seconds after hitting Send, the screen goes dark. I drop my phone in my bag and dedicate my full attention to the seminar. One hour later, it’s a wrap. I’m about to leave the building when someone calls my name from behind.
“Emilia!”
I spin around and find myself face-to-face with John. We’ve attended a few seminars together and grabbed dinner afterward twice. I realized too late he’d considered those dates. I’d just considered them having dinner with someone who is in the same line of work.
“Hi, John!”
“You still owe me that third date. It’s very late, but would you like to go to dinner with me? I know a great burger place just a few blocks away. Or we could just grab a drink.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of my neck with my palm. I don’t like his pushy tone, but I don’t want to argue with him. It would make future seminars awkward. As I look into John’s expectant expression, my mind conjures up quite a different image. One of a six-foot-tall man with chocolate brown eyes and a smile that seems to permanently say I am up to no good.
“Sorry, John, I can’t.”
His friendly expression wavers for a split second. “Of course, you probably have plans already. Next time, maybe.”
He walks away before I have time to say anything back, but I already know I won’t take him up on any future invitations. Securing the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I head out of the building, musing over my short interaction with John. Once I climb into my car, I sigh loudly. Max. Why is he always on my mind? This wouldn’t be problematic if my thoughts would roam in the friend zone, but more often than not, they cross to Dirtytown. My dreams have taken up permanent residence in Smutland.
The ridiculous thing is that since my engagement went balls up, I haven’t had one dirty thought about any man, and I routinely work with great looking men. But maybe because I never could separate matters of the heart from matters of my lady parts, I consciously decided not to lust after men. It worked great until Max walked into that training room and every fiber of my body was acutely aware of him.
As I gun the engine, a realization dawns on me. If I can’t even entertain the idea of going out with a man for drinks without Max’s image popping into my head, I’m in bigger trouble than I thought. And I have a hunch I’ll be in even more trouble after Saturday.
Chapter Nine
Max
“Why the hell did you bring food for ten people?” I ask Alice. My sister stands in the doorway of my apartment, carrying one enormous food bag in each hand. It’s Friday night and we’re watching a soccer game on TV. Christopher will join us too.
“Hello to you too, ungrateful bastard.” She kisses my cheek, walking past me into my apartment. “I brought you pecan pie, but I’m reconsidering if I should give it to you. Maybe I’ll eat it myself to punish you.”
“I’m deeply sorry,” I instantly say, giving her a mocking bow. That’s my favorite kind of pie, and I’d do anything for a slice, including being on my very best behavior. I relieve Alice of the food bags and we both head to the kitchen.
“I signed the papers for the new restaurant today, by the way,” she informs me.
“Congratulations. Did Sleazeball give you a hard time?”
“No, he actually looked like he was scared out of his wits. Kept asking me if my brother will join us. He wasn’t even making eye contact most of the time. Do you happen to have anything to do with it?”
“Not at all,” I say with a straight face. “Why didn’t you say something about signing the papers? I would’ve bought champagne to celebrate. I only have beer.”
“I like beer.”
“Yeah, but it’s not for celebrations. Let’s go out somewhere. You deserve a treat. I’m inviting you.”
She tilts her head, pursing her lips. “I spend my days in a restaurant. I like celebrating at home. I’m going to watch soccer, and I have two brothers to annoy. That sounds like the perfect way to celebrate to me.”
“Okay.” I chuckle as I steal a bite from the pie she brought. “Wait a minute, your restaurant doesn’t have pecan pie.”
“No, I asked the cook to make it especially for you,” Alice explains as we arrange everything on plates. “And I brought some extra so you can eat leftovers tomorrow. Can’t let my little brother starve.” She opens the door to my refrigerator, pointing to the emptiness inside and smirking.
We carry the plates to the living room, placing them on the coffee table in front of the enormous couch. I live in a condo in downtown San Francisco, on the tenth floor. My favorite part is by far the large balcony, on which I hung a hammock. The biggest downside is that being downtown, there’s permanent traffic noise I can hear even from up here. I could have chosen to live in a quieter neighborhood, but from here, I only need ten minutes to get to the office. In London, I lived in a quiet, residential area, but I wasted a big chunk of each day in traffic.
“You do know that I survived living in London all by myself for years, right?”
Alice shrugs one shoulder, slumping on the couch. “But you came back because you missed us.”
I hold up a finger. “I never said that was the reason.”
“You didn’t admit it, but I know it. Say it.” She gives me a smug look, and her eyes flash with amusement. “Say. It.”
For a moment I debate holding my ground and teasing her some more, but I know Alice. She’ll pester me until I give in, and the secret to outsmarting Alice is knowing when to choose my battles.
“Fine, I admit it. I missed all of you.”
Alice fist bumps into the air before digging into my pie. “Switch on the TV. The game will begin in two minutes. When is Christopher arriving?”
“No idea.” I click the remote, switching on the TV. At the same time, the doorbell rings. “It’s open,” I say loudly, and Christopher comes in.
“Food,” he exclaims when he reaches the couch, immediately digging into the pie, his eyes glued to the TV. I exchange a look with Alice.
“Your already appalling manners seem to further disappear by the day, Christopher,” Alice admonishes him.
“Hi, Max. Hi, Alice,” he greets. We concentrate on the game for the next forty-five minutes.
“Anyone want to join me in furniture h
unting for the new restaurant tomorrow morning? Pippa is coming too.”
“Pippa shouldn’t go anywhere. She’s doing too much stuff as it is,” I reply. Her belly is round and huge even though she has a few months until she’s due, and it can’t be comfortable to carry around.
Alice smirks. “You know, I’m getting tired of you guys acting like clueless alphas, and so is Pippa.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Christopher asks.
“That you have no clue about pregnancies, but you like to talk a lot. Oh, she shouldn’t do this, she shouldn’t do that.” Alice glares at both of us. “Pippa has plenty of books about pregnancies. You can always do some reading on the subject before opening your big mouths.”
Christopher and I grimace at the same time. No way.
“You think your balls will fall off if you read a pregnancy book?” Her glare becomes more pronounced. “Men.”
“Sisters…,” Christopher mutters. “You worry about them, and all they do is give you shit.”
I’m smart and keep my mouth shut, but I’m in complete agreement with him. We return to watching the game, and during the break, Alice asks, “You didn’t answer. Can either of you join me tomorrow? I’m not actually going to buy anything, but I need inspiration and would love your opinion too. Blake is coming too, but the more the merrier.”
“I’ll go,” Christopher says, at the same time I reply, “Can’t.”
They both look at me.
“Care to share your plans?” Alice asks.
“I’m having breakfast with Jonesie.” I try to sound casual. Alice nods, taking her phone out of her bag and typing on it.
“How is she holding up with her grandmother’s illness?” she asks.
“She doesn’t speak about it much, but I know it’s hard.”
“You’re dating Jonesie?” Christopher asks abruptly. Alice is focusing on her phone again, but she has that expression on that says, I’m not eavesdropping, but in fact, I totally am.
“No, it’s not like that,” I answer quickly. “We’re just going out to catch up.”
Christopher snorts. “That friendship thing isn’t working out, is it?”
When I told him about Emilia weeks ago, he insisted there’s no such thing as friendship between a man and a woman. I countered by insisting that we’d been friends as kids.
“Oh my God,” Alice exclaims, dropping all pretense of typing on her phone. “I can’t believe this hasn’t even crossed my mind.”
“Spill it out,” Christopher says with a shit-eating grin on his face.
I eye the two of them with suspicion. They have the habit of ganging up on me, but I don’t see how I can avoid it now.
“I thought we could just pick up our friendship where we left off years ago….” I shrug, leaving my sentence hanging.
“And let me guess. She grew a pair of breasts, and you’re suddenly thinking with your penis instead of your brain?” Christopher asks. Ah yes, I can always count on him to deliver a punch straight to the gut.
I groan in response. “It’s not just that.”
Alice cocks an eyebrow.
“All right, that’s a big part. I’m attracted to her. Very attracted to her. But she also means more to me.”
“Define more,” Alice presses.
“I want her to be safe and happy, and every time I imagine her going out with someone, I feel the need to kick something. So….” My voice trails off, because I’m not sure how to put everything into words.
“Holy shit!” My sister sits cross-legged on the couch, resting her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I was so oblivious. Pippa would have picked up on it immediately. I should tell her.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
“You’re right. Her twins are almost here, so she has enough on her plate already. You’re stuck with me, then. The family’s second-rate matchmaker. I can’t believe it. You were inseparable when she lived on our street. It would be so romantic if the two of you ended up together.”
Christopher and I both take a good look at her to make sure she’s not pulling my leg. Nope, she’s serious.
“You sound like Summer now,” Christopher says cautiously.
Alice gives us both the stink eye. “I do have a romantic side, but if the secret gets out of this room, I will kick both your asses.”
“Alice, the game’s started again,” I tell her.
“But this is so much more interesting.” She grins at me, rubbing her palms together in excitement.
“So what’s keeping you from moving from friendship to something else?” Christopher asks.
When I don’t say anything, Alice says, “Let me guess. You’re afraid that if whatever something else entails goes south, you’ll lose her friendship too?”
“Yeah, that. Exactly.” I’m somewhat stupefied at my sister’s ability to put my struggle into a coherent sentence.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” my brother asks.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I retort.
“A long time then,” he concludes.
“Almost one month,” I say.
Alice frowns, counting on her fingers, then smiles triumphantly. “Since you started your therapy sessions with Emilia.”
I nod, scratching my jaw. “It’s ridiculous, but just thinking about going out with other women makes me feel guilty.”
Christopher stands up on his feet. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to sleep with her because she’s your friend, and you don’t want to ruin your friendship, but you also don’t want to sleep with other women because you feel guilty?”
“That sums it up,” I say.
“You’re screwed,” my brother concludes.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Your logic is screwed,” Christopher insists, sitting again. “If you want her, go after her.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Christopher shrugs. “What’s the worse that can happen? If it doesn’t work out, you move on, and she moves on. ”
That’s exactly the problem. If things don’t work out, we won’t stay friends. Moving on will mean she won’t be in my life at all, and I’d rather have her in my life, no matter how.
“How about this,” Christopher says. “I can be her friend instead. I look the same as you. Then you can get in her bed. Or I can do what you don’t have the balls to do, and you can be the friend.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
“The world is officially coming to an end then,” Alice says dramatically.
“What can I do to get the two of you off my back?” I ask, regretting my decision more and more with each passing second. Celebratory sounds come from the TV screen, a sure sign that one of the teams scored, but no one is paying any attention to the game.
“Err, not invite us in the first place?” Alice suggests.
“Great idea. I’m revoking the invitation.”
“Too late,” my sister says. “Besides, if you invited us, it’s because deep down, you know that you need to be talked into doing—”
“Emilia,” Christopher finishes the sentence for her. Now I’m just pissed at both of them.
“I don’t need to be talked into anything. I’m this close”—I hold my thumb and forefinger close to each other in demonstration—“to jumping her bones in that training room. If anything, I need the two of you to hold me back.”
“Oooookay,” Alice says. “Clearly, someone’s bottled up too much sexual tension.” Looking at Christopher, she tells him, “I bet he lasts two more sessions before he lashes out at poor Emilia.”
Christopher taps his finger on his bottle. “One session. Actually, I bet he won’t make it through breakfast tomorrow.”
Alice frowns as if considering her words. “No bet.”
Fucking fantastic.
Chapter Ten
Emilia
On Saturday morning Grams is in a good mood, and remarkably present. I’m leavi
ng in one hour to meet Max for breakfast, and I’m nowhere near ready. Right now I’m sitting with Grams on the couch on the back porch. I’m braiding her hair in an elegant bun. She’s always happier when her hair looks beautiful.
“I’ve been thinking about your father,” she says out of the blue when I’m halfway done. My fingers freeze in her silver hair. Good thing we’re sitting, because my knees have turned to Jell-O. Grams hasn’t mentioned my father by name or referred to him at all since he left. Exactly one year after, she rounded up all the pictures she had of him and burned them.
“You have?” I ask quietly. “Why?”
“I was wondering what became of him.”
Pressing my lips together, I continue to work on her hair, which proves to be a challenge because my hands turned sweaty all of a sudden. I am one hundred percent sure nothing became of him.
“I’d like to see him again,” she continues, her words shocking me to the bone, even more so because at this moment Grams is herself, not in the clutches of her disease. An age-old pain washes over me, reminding me that some wounds don’t heal with time.
“He left us, Grams.” My voice is strong, and I’m proud. “I don’t—”
“I know, child. But you and I both know I’m not going to be myself much longer. You think I don’t know I lose my mind at least once a day?”
“You’re not losing your mind,” I say with a shaky voice. Damn it. She needs reassurance right now, not for me to break down. At least she sits with her back to me, so she can’t see my eyes, which are burning.
“I’d like to see him once before it’s too late. Call me soft, but he’s my son. Blood is blood. Promise you’ll think about it?”
“Promise.” You don’t say no to the woman who worked herself to exhaustion to raise you. With trembling fingers, I finish her hairdo, then go about preparing for my outing.
I spend a long time in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear, which is ridiculous. This is not a date; it’s just two friends going out. We did this hundreds of times when we were kids, I tell myself. Yeah, but that was before we both developed a flirting muscle. I end up choosing a knee-length, blue dress with a rather deep V-neckline, but what the hell. I also straighten my wild mane until not one hair sticks in the wrong direction.
