Page 55 of The No Try Zone
“Strawberries, banana, protein powder, chia seeds, a little Greek yogurt and honey to pull it all together. Want it?”
“I can’t.”
My face falls. I didn’t expect the outright rejection. Which is stupid. Why did I come up here?
He takes a step toward me, then seems to stop himself and reverse. “I mean, I’m allergic. To strawberries.” He shrugs. “Not that I wouldn’t love it. Thank you.”
I catch a whiff of his beard oil, a scent that I couldn’t have catalogued as intensely before yesterday. Eucalyptus and mint. The smell is heady, calming and energizing all at the same time. I find myself wanting a candle so I can have the scent any time.
Realization slams into me like an eighteen-wheeler. What we did yesterday actually meant something to me. I didn’t want it to, but it did. But Colin? He’s acting like it meant absolutely nothing to him.
As thoughImean nothing to him. I’m an itch he needed to scratch, and now that he’s fucked me, he’s done. I’m an inconvenience.
What was that whimsical little thought I had about regret this morning? I clamber for it. I can’t regret it. I won’t regret it. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
He must see everything play out on my face, because he frowns. “Sam.”
I hold up my free hand. “Don’t.” I close my eyes, willing myself to forget the sorrowful expression he’s wearing. “My mistake. Clearly.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I’m pissed at myself for showing the vulnerability.
“Sam, I –”
If he says more, I don’t hear it. Because I’ve whirled away and am hauling down the hallway.
The rest of the day is a blur. I meet with my boss and formulate a plan for the beginning of the season, looking at the travel schedule and nodding in numb agreement at whatever he’s saying. I lead a late afternoon yoga session for staff, a perk I began offering when I first started and has quickly become something the staff really look forward to. And when the players descend into the room, I do my job, working to stretch one while encouraging another to put more weight on the machine.
The next day, I do it again. And the day after. And when Ollie asks me what’s wrong, I brush it off, telling him I’m on my period.
Kari pulls me out of the office for lunch on Friday, and once our meals are in front of us – Caesar salad for her, grilled chicken and steamed broccoli for me – she points her fork at my plate.
“Spill.”
I pop a piece of broccoli into my mouth and chew. “Spill what?”
“You’re eating the saddest meal on the planet and you’ve been moping around all week. What did he do?”
“Who says he did anything?”
A triumphant smile appears on her face. “That right there. He absolutely did something. Do I need to have a talk with him?”
I cut another piece of my sad chicken – she’s not wrong there – and eat it. When it’s clear that Kari will wait me out, I fold. “Fine. We had sex –”
“Youwhat?” she hisses, her eyes going round.
I gesture at her. “This is why I didn’t say anything.”
She blows her bangs out of her face and attempts to rearrange her shock. “Sorry. Let me try again. Continue.”
I tilt my head. “If we’re going to talk about this, then I need my friend in front of me. Not the PR specialist for the Granite.”
She nods. “You have me.”
I raise a brow. “Really? Because literally every time the topic comes up, all you want me to do is pretend it didn’t happen. And believe me, I wish it didn’t. But here we are.”
Her face softens. “I’m sorry, Sam. You’re right. I have a shitty boss and it makes me…”
“Unhinged?” I supply helpfully.
“Strict,” she says, her lips quirking up. “But I’ll do better. I promise.”
