Puck Buddies (12 page)

Shrinkage

Sami

 
“If I could moonwalk in these heels, I
super would,” I gush into the phone to Linda on the elevator ride down.

“See, now as long as you control the
aspects and the depth you allow yourself to become immersed in this pseudo
relationship, you’ll find a level of comfort.”

“I know, right? He acted like he might
die of a heart attack and he begged me to stay.”

“Sami, I’m going to be brutally honest,
just like you pay me to be. You should consider the fact you like torturing
this boy so much. You sound like a married couple. You are clearly preoccupied
with him a lot more than any other guy in the past. There’s a reason for that.”

“Thanks, Linda.” I roll my eyes.

“Night, Sami.” She ends the call, no
doubt excited to be free of me. Paying her an extra hundred grand a year to
tell me the brutally honest truth instead of trying to shrink my head has
changed my life. She doesn’t tell me what will fix me, just what the truth is.
She’s my go-to for everything and never tries to sound like a parent.

I used to confide in my friends—well,
Nat—about boys but I found that girls say the right thing and not the
honest thing when it comes to advice about boys. Linda doesn’t give a shit
about me. And she doesn’t sugarcoat anything. I told her to think like a young
woman who likes to get laid and tell me exactly what is smart. She doesn’t
always focus on smart though. She’s the one who convinced me that meaningless
sex wasn’t making me feel good about myself. And she was right. Every now and
then I like a boy more than he likes me, and I read more into the relationship
than he does. No point in casual sex when one person can’t be casual about it.

Like with Matt.

I can’t be casual, not the way he is.

I wrote about him in my journal and have
compared every kiss in the last couple of years to our kiss in the cab.

I’m glad I called Linda and didn’t risk
telling Nat about him. She’s a romantic at heart. She would have us picking out
china in a matter of hours.

Not that I want a boyfriend.

Well, maybe I do.

I don’t know.

But even if I did, it wouldn’t be a dumb
hockey player who treats me like a whore.

And in the end, Linda is right, I do need
to get over the hate I have for him. It’s not doing me any good, and we clearly
see each other a lot. I need to resolve the issue and take back the power. Then
when I see him it’s not me with the aching chest.

Having him pine for me is better than
having me hate him.

In my head the theory means I’ll look
less crazy, but I’m not sure it’s sound though.

I hurry down the street to the car and
jump in, grinning at Vincenzo as he closes the door. “Can we stop quick and get
a few things?” I ask as I lean forward, through the window.

“Of course. What is it you’re looking
for?”

“Nat is coming over in like an hour for a
slumber party with a couple of girls from our grad class, so I just want to
make sure I have everything.”

“Citarella Gourmet?”

“Yes, please.”

When we get to the apartment after
shopping, Vincenzo carries the bags up for me. He goes to the kitchen as I head
for the stairs.

“A Mr. Brimley is in the parlor.” Nadia
gives me a slight grin and follows Vincenzo into the kitchen to prepare the food
I’ve brought.

“What?” I watch her walk, giving her a
weird look as butterflies try to escape my stomach.

“You heard me.” She glances back and
smiles wide, pointing at the parlor.

“No. That wasn’t how it was supposed to
work.” I swallow hard, sensing all the power I’ve gained slipping through my
fingers. Why is he here? What does that mean? Is he onto me?

Shit!

My feet take the steps my head isn’t
ready for, forcing me into the hallway. I gulp, slap a smug grin on my face,
and saunter like I might just be half as confident as I hope he thinks I am.

My insides dance but I open the door,
ignoring the nerves.

“Hey.” I close the door and lean against
it.

He’s standing in the window with his back
to me. “Hey.” He says it without turning around.

"What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.” He turns and leans
against the window, not moving either. There’s a large room between us but it
feels small. “I was thinking, if you’re alone because your parents are in
London, and I’m alone because mine are in Italy, why don’t we make Christmas
Eve dinner together, like you and I each cook something? Then we could hang out
on Christmas and go skating in the park and enjoy the quiet of the city.”

“Uhhhh—I mean, yeah. Sure. We could
do that.”
What the ever-loving fackkkkk?
Christmas Eve dinner?
Skating in the park? This is way
more than dinner and him trying to screw me and me playing with his head a
little.

Sweet Jesus.

“I thought it would be a good way to get
to know each other. For real.”

Why don’t we just get married and call it
a day?

Is he screwing with me?

I don’t know the response I should have.

Do I laugh and say no so I don’t look
needy?

Or do I accept and play it off like it’s
no biggie?

Oh my God.

He’s like a master of messing with me.

Why’s he being so sweet?

I need Linda.

“And I also know what I want to do now.”

“Why didn’t you just call?” I’m scared of
what he’s going to say next. The whole skating in the park thing is tugging at
the soft stupid parts of my heart.

“I needed to see you.” He pushes off from
the window and crosses the room, not quickly but too quickly for me to react.
He puts his hands on the door, pinning me here. He lowers his face, speaking
softly, so close to mine I feel his words on my lips. “I think I say and do the
wrong things with you. I was worried I might not get the point across properly
if I called. I want you to see I need to fix this.”

The nervous feeling he creates in my
stomach hits hard.

“And I hate the way you look at me after
I say something I think is okay. So I was thinking we could hang out now, right
now, and you could tell me exactly what I did to piss you off. From the very
moment we met. And I could apologize properly and never do those things again.”

“Did you do some drugs before you came
here?” Not that there was time for drugs.

“No.”

It’s a weird request but it’s also
unpredictable. I never saw it coming. It’s not dinner or drinks or just fucking
again. Combining it with Christmas Eve and skating in the park makes me
uncomfortable and panicky.

“Please, just tell me everything you
hated so I know.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do. When was the first time I
let you down?”

“When you didn’t come and find me after
the kiss in the cab. You just walked away and let it be.” The words fall from
my parted lips. Fortunately, I stop myself before I mention I still have his
suit jacket in my closet, hanging up.

“I thought you were dating my friend.” He
looks so cute the way he says it, like he’s some honorable guy and not a
pervert who gets his driver to tour the city while he bangs chicks in the
backseat.

Remembering that enrages me
again.
I
take a break. “I broke up with him. He was fucking my friend in London. I was
single in the black cab.”

“That wouldn’t have changed anything.” He
wrinkles his forehead. “I had this rule: I didn’t date girls my friends had
already dated.”

“That’s stupid. What are you, seven? You
can’t share your toys, Beast?” I am unable to resist the urge to laugh
bitterly.

“You’re not the first person to tell me
that,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I’m a moron. I wish I could take it all back.
All the stupid rules and thoughts and the times I let you down. All I can do
now is be different.”

“I forgive you.” I truly mean it. How can
I not after that?

“What else is there?” he asks with a
smile.

“You really want this?” I can’t believe
he does.

“I do.”

“Fine. You were a shit in the bar when
you didn’t even acknowledge me that night I got super trashed. You acted like
we didn’t know each other and we did. And I didn’t understand. It hurt my
feelings,
like the kiss was some cheap shit you were ashamed
of. And I didn’t feel that way.” I can’t believe I’ve said it aloud. I’m being
vulnerable. Linda would be so proud.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to explain
to anyone how we knew each other. I wondered if you felt awkward when you saw
me in the bar, you kept giving me weird looks. So I thought we could start
fresh and not be the people we were in London.”

“I liked you in London.” Again I’m
stunned at the words leaving my mouth.

“And I have liked you for far longer than
London, but every time I get a chance to see you, you have a boyfriend. And we
run in the same circles so they’re always guys I know.”

“Who said anything about dating?” I cock
an eyebrow. “You honestly seem like you’re only into sex.”

“I think I’ve given you the wrong
impression about me too. I swear
,
I’m not like that
either. Like I said, I’ve liked you far longer than London.”

I almost lose the strength in my knees
when he says that. “How long?”

“A while.” He looks down. “What else is
there?”

I lower my head, fighting for the bravery
I always act like I have. “I don’t have sex in cars while someone drives me
around. Ever. I’m working on my—anyway, it wasn’t cool if you ever wanted
to see me again. That’s something you do to someone you don’t want to see again.”

“And I treated you like you don’t mean
anything?”

I lift my gaze to his, sensing the burn
in my stare. “Uh, ya think? You threw the dirty condom on the ground and
offered me a ride back to the bar. As if you were going to pick up again. You
really think that was cool?”

“No. But I don’t really think when I’m
around you.”

I swallow the lump that’s building in my
throat. For whatever reason being honest with him is killing me. I’m on the
edge of crying. “I’m sorry I called you blue collar and treated you so badly.
You wounded my pride and I acted like a dick.”

“I’m sorry for everything from the moment
I left you in the cab in London.” His eyes are lit with a form of green fire.

“Black cab.” I grin.

He laughs but it’s not real. There’s
something else stopping him from laughing.

“What do you want, Matt? Why are you
here? We barely know each other, and we’ve been nothing but mean to each other.
If you truly think about it, we both think we know the other person but what do
we know?”

“We have awesome sex.”

“Right. But what else is there? Is there
a reason at all to try to make this be anything beyond that one time we had
awesome sex?”

“I don’t know. I know I can’t stop
thinking about you. It’s been years. But at the same time, I don’t have
anything to offer. I work hard for eight months of the year and girls are the
last
thing
on the schedule. And yet you have me
undone, and I can’t seem to get it back together. You freak out so easily and
the next thing I know I’m upside down.” He lifts a hand to my cheek. “But it
seems like the last thing I want is to be right-side up.”

“I want to know what you think. You’re
all up in my grill about why I was so angry with you, but I think the reason was
that I didn’t understand your motives. You act like I’m nothing to you, and yet
here you are playing me again. Why?” I refuse to give up the hard-earned power
shift between us.

“You’re not nothing.” He lowers his lips
to mine, brushing one of those soft and delicious kisses I get lost in. “You’re
killing me, trust me.”

“Good.” I lift his face, separating us.
“Now I have plans, so you have to go. We can both think about what the other
person has said and talk about it over dinner.”

He scowls. “But that’s why I’m here. I
don’t want you to have plans.”

“What?” My back straightens as I prepare
for the war between us to refresh
itself
.

“This.” He tugs at my trench, untying it
to reveal a tee shirt and fuzzy shorts. “I did not see that as a possibility
for what was under this jacket.” He cocks his head, stepping back.

“Why?” I look down on the outfit. “I have
a slumber party in ten minutes.”

“Slumber.” A stupid look crosses his
face. “With other girls?”

“Of course. What exactly did you think
was happening?” I know what it looked like. I’m not an idiot. I wore the coat
on purpose, and I
am loving
the look on his face.