Page 69 of Play For Me

He sighs, not shutting the door, clearly expecting me to leave right away. “Cecelia, I’m tired.”

“That’s cool.” I walk over to the desk and start taking things out of the bags I brought. “I’ll just hang out while you rest.”

“Cecelia.” His voice is sharper now, but I kind of figure that’s progress. Better sharp than empty.

“I wasn’t sure how many of these you could eat,” I go on, ignoring him. “I know that I can usually put back at least three on my own.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “What is that?”

“Microwave mac and cheese. I have Sprite, too. And some more snacks if you’re still hungry.”

Another pause. “Why did you bring me mac and cheese?”

I turn away from the supplies on the desk to look at him, and my heart seems to stutter. He doesn’t look so blank anymore, but he doesn’t look like himself, either. There’s something vulnerable in his expression. It makes me wonder what Sol looked like as a little boy, and I just want to wrap my arms around him.

Instead, I straighten my back. “I called Jay. He said mac and cheese was your comfort meal, so that’s what I got. But we can order in if you’d rather something else.”

He blinks at me, forehead scrunching in confusion. “You called Jay?”

“I did.” I return to the bags. “I got Sprite, too, because he said that was your favorite. And I brought a LEGO kit?—”

“How the hell did you find a LEGO kit?” He still sounds a little flat but at least he finally lets the door shut behind him. I smile to myself, relieved that he’s not kicking me out. Not that I would let him, but still.

“I took an Uber to Target,” I say.

He’s still looking at me in that baffled, vulnerable way. “I don’t understand.” He swallows. “Why would you…I mean, you saw the way she talked to me last night. You can see how fucked up I am. Why would you… I’m not good company, Cecelia. Obviously.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. His voice makes it clear—he can’t fathom that anyone would want to be with him when he’s feeling this way.

“Look,” I say, forcing down the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Hell, we don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. We can sit here in silence and stare at the wall for all I care. But I don’t abandon my friends when they’re having a hard time.”

“Are we friends?” he asks, voice so low I almost can’t hear it.

“Of course,” I reply, even though there’s a part of me that wants to tell him no. The same part that desperately wants to be more than this guy’s friend. The part that’s been howling at me to go and kiss him again ever since the party.

Instead, I smile at him. “So can I stay?” I hold up a hand when he opens his mouth. “And before you answer that, keep in mind that I’m staying regardless.”

He lets out a low laugh. It’s soft and not very enthusiastic, but I’m taking that as a huge win.

“Well in that case,” he says, some of his usual dry teasing tone coming back to his voice. “You may as well get comfortable.”

NINETEEN

SOLOMON

I know I should be embarrassed, but I just don’t have the energy to feel shame right now.

Is it objectively ridiculous that a grown man needs mac and cheese and a LEGO set to break him out of a meltdown? Definitely. But I’m so freaking tired. The kind of tired that makes it hard to even stand up straight. It’s how I always feel after one of these episodes—exhausted right down to my bones.

And I just want her to stay.

The only emotion that’s been able to get past my barriers for the last twenty-four hours is guilt. I’ve been treating Cecelia like shit, and she doesn’t deserve it. It’s bad enough that I shut down on her and ignored her all day. I let what I was dealing with affect my work, and that affectsher.

I didn’t even examine her knee before the game. That shit is unforgivable. When I saw the swelling after she left the field, I wanted to throw up.

My fault.

So I should definitely man up and apologize for being a crappy trainer and a worse friend. I should try to find some way to explain about what happened with Sybil last night and how it affected my behavior today. I should tell her that it’s alwaysgoing to be this way, thatI’malways going to be this way, and she should cut me off immediately if she doesn’t want to deal with my shit over and over again.