by Sky Corgan
That seems to be his M.O. though. Hiding things because he thinks it protects me when it only ends up hurting me more.
I hate him. I hate all of them.
They're all horrible people, and yet they get to have their happily ever afters while I'm forever alone. Thinking about it makes me want to die. But I can't die yet. I need to get through the workday.
I stay in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes, not caring that I'm going to be late to training class. Nothing matters anymore. Not really.
Thankfully, Peter doesn't chastise me when I walk past him with my head hung low. He probably doesn't even notice me, not that he ever really has. Now, more than ever, I wish I hadn't bugged Caleb about trying to get us together. It would be better if I was still invisible to Peter. As it is, I don't know how I'm going to get through a few more weeks of training class before they send us home to telecommute. But at least there's that to look forward to. I won't have to be around him forever. Won't have to see his handsome face everyday and long for his touch and think about what I'll never have.
I work at a snail's pace, taking no pride in anything I do. I make more mistakes than I can count because I can't concentrate. Luckily, it's not real work. We're still practicing with fake accounts.
Lunchtime rolls around, and all I can think about is going out to my car and sleeping some of my misery away. I don't care that it's hot outside. I'll either roll my windows down or run my air conditioner. Wasting gas is of no consequence to me if it will make me feel even one iota better.
I keep my face down as I pass by Peter's office. I'm almost to the front of the building when I hear a man call my name. It takes me a second to realize that it's Peter's voice.
I turn to face him, my stomach filling with dread, my heart filling with sorrow.
“Miss Stroop.” He smiles at me. It does nothing to alleviate my mood. “My business partner is out of town for the weekend. I was wondering if you'd like to get lunch with me.”
The invitation catches me off guard. I swallow hard as I look up at him finally and mutter, “Sure.”
I'm not sure how I feel as I climb into his car and we drive down the street to a little cafe. My emotions are in a strange stalemate that I'm not accustomed to. I'm not miserable anymore, but I don't particularly feel hopeful either. I think I'm more confused than anything else.
We order sandwiches and settle in across from each other at a small table. I don't really have an appetite, so I just stare at my sandwich while Peter unwraps his.
“Did Caleb tell you about baseball practice?” he asks before taking a bite.
“Mhm.” I nod, reaching for my bottle of water to twist the top off.
“Why didn't you attend?” His voice is all business, as if he's talking to me about work.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling very well.” I sulk, thinking about the argument again and all of the horrible things that Caleb told me.
“That bastard didn't show up either.” He looks past me to the front of the restaurant. “That's probably why we did better, because he wasn't there to muck it all up.”
His sudden turn to casual banter makes me smile, despite myself. This is the real Peter. The Peter that no one else at work sees but me. Even though I'm not special to him, it makes me feel special.
“You know, he doesn't have to be there for you to go.” He meets my gaze. “We have baseball practice every Thursday. I'll text you the location. If you get bored, come play with us.”
“Thanks.” I can feel my cheeks heating up, though I'm not sure why. Maybe because he's looking at me so intensely. Perhaps because he's being kind. All I do know is that he somehow just managed to make my day better without even trying, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
By the end of the day, my mood has drastically improved. Going to lunch with Peter gave me a second wind, and being invited to play baseball without Caleb around renewed my resolve because it all boils down to one thing. Peter enjoys spending time with me, and if he enjoys spending time with me, that means there's still hope that we'll eventually end up together.
I can't let that go, and I refuse to allow Caleb to walk around thinking that he destroyed my dream.
As soon as I'm off from work, I go straight to his apartment and pound on his apartment door. I'm going to show that asshole that he doesn't know everything about love and how it works. I will persevere, no matter how much nay-saying he does.
The second he opens the door to me, I start speaking, placing my hands on my hips and holding my head high as if to silently say 'I told you so.' “Peter invited me out to lunch today, and he says I can play baseball with him whenever I want, with or without you.”
“Alright...” Caleb arches an eyebrow at me.
“I told you things would work out. I don't even need you anymore.” I huff.
He licks his lips and nods. “Congratulations. Good for you.”
“Since you refused to help me, I'm going to start going to the batting cages so that I can practice. And I can watch YouTube videos to see how the game is played. I bet I'll be able to play with him within a week's time.”
His mouth quirks into a smirk. “You know, if you start playing baseball, too, you're definitely going to get those calluses that you've been dreading.”
Relief floods my chest as I see some resemblance of friendliness in his expression. As much as I don't want to admit it to myself, I'm happy that he doesn't seem upset with me anymore.
“I think I can handle a few calluses if it helps me reach my goal.” I nod to myself, feeling my energy replenish with each passing second spent talking to him. I'm so elated that we've mended our friendship that I can't even be mad about the Becky thing anymore. I step forward and slap his chest lightly. “What's this I heard about you and Becky? She made it sound like you guys had a hot date last night.”
“A hot date?” he parrots before rolling his eyes. “I think that girl is worse than you are. It wasn't a date.”
“Worse than I am?” My mouth falls agape. “What are you implying, huh?”
“Nothing.” Caleb laughs. “It seriously wasn't a date, though. I ran into her at the gym, and she asked me out to dinner and offered to pay. I don't turn down free food.”
“Well, isn't that a date?” I shift my weight. “I mean, the two of you ate dinner together.”
“If eating dinner together constitutes a date, then you and I have been dating.” He gestures between us.
“Oh. I see your point. But Becky is definitely interested in you.”
“It doesn't matter.” Caleb shakes his head. “I'm not interested in her.”
“Well, you better let her know that, because she thinks otherwise.” I reflect back on how excited Becky sounded this morning when she told me that the two of them had gone out together.
Knowing that there's nothing serious forming between them makes me happy.
“I don't want you dating her,” I confess.
“Why not?” He snorts in amusement.
“You can date anyone else but her.” I ignore his question.
“When did you become the boss of who I can and can't date?” Caleb leans against the door frame.
“When you accepted my friendship.”
He laughs. “So we're friends now, are we?”
I wrinkle my nose at the word, mad that he made me say it. I refuse to let him bask in his victory, so I turn away from him, gesturing flippantly over my shoulder while I walk back to my apartment. “Just be happy that I don't hate you anymore.”
13
Caleb
I shake my head at Willow as I watch her go. That girl is about as crazy as they come. Still, I can't help but like her. She's one of a kind, and if Peter keeps trying to find ways to hang out with her, then there must be at least some level of interest there. He wouldn't go out of his way to spend time with just anyone.
I suppose I should be happy for her, but as I go back inside, all I keep thinking about is what Peter's end game will be in this. He has no idea how fragile
Willow's heart is and that he's giving her false hope. I want to tell him, but the thought of Willow getting ticked off at me again if Peter starts to push her away...
Is it worth losing her as a friend to protect her? Or should I just be there when she eventually takes the fall? No doubt, Peter is going to chew her up and spit her out. He'll probably string her along until she starts to telecommute, and then he'll take the opportunity to kick her to the curb like yesterday's news.
I know what it feels like to chase someone who will never love you back. To catch them only to be strung along, to get your heart more involved while they remain distant. It's the most horrible thing. I don't want her to have to experience that. But for my own selfish reasons, maybe it's better if I allow nature to take its course. Then I can help her pick up the pieces of her broken heart, because I've been there. I know how. I'm not fully healed yet, but at least I have the foundation of healing in place.
There's no point in worrying about any of it right now, I decide. As it stands, there's nothing going on between them. There might never be.
I take a shower and let it fall from my mind. Then I watch television with Max until it's time to go to bed. As I close my eyes to sleep, I think about what a funny girl Willow is. She's going to be a handful for some guy someday.
The next day is long and boring. About a third of my clients cancel on me. Another third no-call/no-show. I feel restless hanging out at the gym, wishing to be anywhere else. As soon as I see my last client for the day, I head home, detouring to Willow's place to see if she wants to go out. After such a crappy day, I could use a drink. More than that, I just need to unwind, and I don't feel like being alone.
I stand outside of her apartment for several minutes before going to check over the balcony to see if her car is in the parking lot. It's not.
“I wonder if she went to the batting cages,” I mutter to myself before heading to my apartment to change.
There are only two batting cages that I know of in town, so I climb into my truck and drive to the closest one. A smirk crosses my face as I see Willow's red Ford Focus in the parking lot. I know it's hers because of the coexist bumper sticker on the back.
I pull into one of the few empty spaces and get out of my truck, inhaling deeply. The air smells like dirt and oil, and I can hear the sounds of the pitching machines shooting out the balls and the clanking of them hitting the steel cages. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans as I walk through the lobby straight back to the cages. The place is packed, so it takes me a few minutes to locate Willow in a cage at the back of the complex.
I start to approach her, but then I give pause, deciding to observe her for a few minutes instead. She's in one of the cages with a slower pitching speed, which is good. Maybe my tennis lessons taught her something. Start slow and work your way up.
She has a look of determination on her face that makes me chuckle lightly. I can see the flash of frustration whenever she misses the ball. She must not have been at it for too long, because her aim is still horrible. She's hitting a lot of fouls, but at least she's making contact. With some practice, she should be good enough to play with our team without embarrassing herself, and it definitely seems like she's willing to put in the time.
It still amazes me how dedicated she is to landing Peter as her boyfriend. I can't help but wonder if any girl has ever tried so hard to make a guy like her. The sad thing is that it might all be for nothing. Peter has no idea how much she likes him, how Willow is trying desperately to change herself into exactly what he wants. If he only knew, maybe he'd have more interest in her. Maybe. I won't be the one to tell him, though.
My smile falters as I realize that interrupting Willow will only spark her to want to talk about Peter. After all, that's why she's here in the first place. Plus, she'll understandably want pointers. It may be better for me to take a step back. Peter will likely be more than willing to give her tips whenever they play together. If I help her now, she'll be denied that conversation with him later.
Just as I'm about to turn around and leave, I see a guy walking up to the cage that Willow is batting in. He waits until she's run out of balls, then calls to her as she walks back to put another token in the machine. For a few moments, I wonder if they know each other. But it quickly becomes apparent by their body language that they don't. His facial expressions and eye movements tell me that he's hitting on her, and I can't help but smirk at how oblivious she is to it. Everything about her mannerisms speaks that she's taking whatever he's saying to her as politeness.
He steps into the cage with her and drops a token into the machine. Then he picks up a bat and gets in position to swing at the oncoming balls. There's no mystery that he's giving her the pointers I had hoped would be saved for when she and Peter played together. It looks like she doesn't need me to help her with lessons after all.
I watch them for a while. He takes a few swings, then they trade places. The guy talks to Willow as she readies herself. After each swing, he says something to her. Then when the machine runs out again, he steps up behind her, reaching around to show her how to better position herself with the bat. Concern pulls at me when I see how close he's getting. She stiffens as he wraps around her, and I can see the discomfort on her face.
It's time for me to interrupt them, I decide, walking the short distance to the cage and knocking on the gate to announce my presence. “Hey there.”
The guy gives me a panicked look, instantly backing away from Willow, probably suspecting that I'm her boyfriend.
“Caleb!” Willow's eyes light up from seeing me. “Tim, here, was just teaching me how to swing.” A smug expression takes over her face as if to say she doesn't need me.
“Oh was he?” I glance over at the guy. He has to be fresh out of high school. Or maybe he's still in high school. His face is so smooth, I can't really tell.
“Mhm.” She nods.
“I was just on my way out and thought I could give her some pointers before I left.” Tim thumbs towards the entrance before turning back to Willow. “It was nice meeting you,” he tells her before exiting the cage and skirting past me like he's scared I'll punch him.
“It was nice meeting you, too.” She waves at him, waiting until he's out of earshot before she speaks again. “Nice kid.”
“He was flirting with you,” I inform her.
“He was? How do you know? You just got here.”
“I was watching from the entrance.” I point to where I came from.
“You were watching me?” She quirks her head back. “Creeper.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “What all did he show you? I need to see if there's any damage to undo.”
Willow walks up to the coin deposit, but she doesn't stick one in yet. “I think he knew what he was doing. He was wearing a baseball jersey, after all.”
“I'm sure he did know what he was doing. He was trying to cop a feel.” I can't wrap my head around how blind she is to these things. Perhaps because she's not accustomed to being hit on. It's obvious she has no idea how attractive she is.
“He was not.” She avoids my gaze, and a blush comes to her cheeks.
“Think what you will.” I shake my head and sigh. “Stop dawdling and stick a coin in. I want to see what you know.”
Her form is good, and her swing not half-bad. Whatever that Tim guy showed her was pretty much on the money. I don't have to do much readjusting before she's hitting almost every ball straight on. It's fun watching her practice and taking turns to hit a few balls myself, though she doesn't last very long once we start moving to the higher speeds. The bat hurts her hands, and as soon as I tell her that she might get blisters, she calls it a night. We move over to the 80mph cage, and I hit a round of balls before we head out to our vehicles.
“Do you think I'm ready to face Peter on the field?” she asks.
“I think you'll do well enough. To be honest, there are players of all levels of experience on the team. Peter is one of the few people who's f
iercely competitive.”
Willow sighs, looking up at the stars. “I hope so. I want to impress him.”
“Practice makes perfect.” I tap the hood of her car.
“Then practice I shall.” She smiles.
“Good girl.” I take a few steps back towards my truck. “And remember not to get distracted by teenage heartthrobs.”
“Teenage heartthrobs?” Willow snorts.
“That kid wanted you to go cougar town on him.” I tease.
“Oh God, Caleb, just shut up.” She laughs.
“I'm telling you, there are more guys out there than just Peter.”
“I know.” Willow folds her arms over her chest. “But he's the only one that I want.”
14
Willow
My Mondays are made less horrible by the thought of getting to see Peter. Even better, now that we're forming a friendship, he's much less distant and dismissive towards me.
Before class starts, he walks up to me to tell me good morning. The pleasant smile on his face makes my heart flutter. I don't think I'll ever get over how handsome he is—not that I want to. I hope that I always feel this way every time I lay my eyes on him.
“Good morning, Mister Burgett,” Becky chirps at Peter next to me. She reminds me of a pesky bug that needs to be swatted, but there's really nothing I can do but tolerate her. Jealousy isn't an attractive quality in women. And I haven't even won him over yet, though I feel like I've made great progress towards that effort.
“Good morning.” He nods to her, though his eyes never leave me.
“How were your dates this weekend?”
My mouth falls open at her boldness, and Peter visibly tenses. How does she even know that he had dates this weekend? Maybe people talk more than I thought. It's obvious that I'm not in the 'in crowd' that knows all about Peter's business outside of work.
He gazes down at Becky, his voice taking a serious turn. “I would appreciate it if you didn't speak about my personal life while at work.”
