Better Than Friends (14 page)

“One of the beautiful things about baseball is that every once in a while you come into a situation where you want to, and where you have to, reach down and prove something.”

—Nolan Ryan

“I
CAN
’
T
believe it’s taken you two whole days to call and pump me for details.” I rested my cell between my ear and my shoulder while I typed. I was at my office working on a memo for one of the partners who, naturally, needed it yesterday.

“Ha-ha. It’s not me you have to worry about. It’s Aar, as you well know. I’m your safety, man. You can share or not share. It makes no difference to me.”

“Good to know. What are you calling for, then?”

“Jase can play this Saturday. Can you find a fourth or should I ask Aaron?”

I smiled at the thought of Aaron joining our traditional Saturday morning game of basketball. Now that spring was here, we could get back to our once-a-week routine playing half-court ball. We’d started the weekly games when we lived together a few years ago, and other than giving a nod to inclement weather and holidays, we tried to make a point of keeping this sacred “guy time.”

“Sure. See if he wants to,” I teased.

“Very funny. He doesn’t. He’s kind of distracted right now, anyway.”

Matt obviously wanted to tell me something but needed a little prodding. I sighed and turned my attention away from my computer. “Matt? Talk. I don’t have time for twenty questions. Why is he distracted?”

“We’re buying our condo.” I could hear the underlying joy behind Matt’s anxious confession.

“Dude! That’s awesome. Wow! That’s very… grown-up and committed.”

“Thanks. I know. It’s cool. We love that place, but Aaron is jumpy and nervous about the loan stuff and…. Stop distracting me! How was Sunday with Jack? And I’m supposed to ask if it’s true that nothing actually happened with Paul.”

“I knew it! I told the absolute, honest truth about my date with Paul. Nice guy but nothing exciting to report and….”

“
And?
C’mon Curtster, I’m an important lawyer like yourself, I don’t have time for twenty questions.”

I laughed, swiveling in my chair to look out my window. “Sunday was great.”

“Whoa.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear it in your tone. You dig him. Admit it.” Matt was getting as relentless as Aaron, I decided, but I found myself smiling like an idiot when I finally replied.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Good. Invite him to play with us.”

“What?”

“Why not? He’s into sports obviously. He might be interested. If not, it’s your turn to find a fourth anyway. Bye, sunshine.”

I sat in my office chair, staring at nothing in particular after Matt unceremoniously hung up. Maybe he was right. Jack said he didn’t do “dates,” so maybe this was the perfect way to see him again.

L
ATER
THAT
same day, Paul called to ask if I was interested in going to a concert with him when he returned from a business trip next week. I think he said it was a jazz concert, but I wasn’t certain. I agreed to go because I couldn’t think of a reason not to accept the invitation. Jack and I weren’t dating. We’d spent a day together and yeah, a little more than that, but I wasn’t under the misconception that the time we’d spent equated to a relationship. It seemed like a smart idea to see other people and try not to get too hung up on someone I ultimately felt was out of my league. I had to laugh that I suddenly had something close to what might be considered a social life. Maybe I wasn’t doing such a poor job at “letting go and moving forward” after all.

A
LTHOUGH
J
ACK
agreed to be our fourth player that Saturday, we were forced to reschedule due to rain. It wasn’t pouring, but a steady drizzle wasn’t conducive to outdoor basketball. We ended up getting together at Matt’s place to watch baseball and hang out. I extended the invite to Jack, hoping he’d accept although I was unsure how he’d feel about spending time with my college buddies and me. We were younger than him by a decade and we’d all known each other for a few years. Jack sent me a text message saying he’d stop by after he spent a couple of hours at his shop.

A sudden bout of nerves made me wonder if I’d made a big mistake. This blending of friends with someone I was interested in felt awkward. I had to remind myself the reason I suggested it in the first place was an attempt on my part to keep things casual. I wanted to spend time with Jack, but I didn’t want him to think I was pursuing him romantically for fear of setting off alarm bells of some sort. I didn’t want to scare him away and I was shit at seduction anyway. If we somehow ended back in my bed, I would be more than thrilled. I just didn’t know how to get him there in a straightforward manner. An invitation to watch baseball was the best I could do.

Matt and Aaron’s place was perfect for hosting parties, large or small. They had an open layout with the kitchen and island at one end of the space with a generous living area on the opposite end. The high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows gave the illusion the condo was bigger than it really was. A huge flat-screen television hung above a fireplace and was visible from practically anywhere in the room. Their centrally located Dupont address and Aaron’s effusive welcome made their place our go-to spot for watching sports or just hanging out. Aaron didn’t always stay to partake in our beer-guzzling, chips-and-salsa fests since he wasn’t a sports fan, but he usually visited for a while and played the part of congenial host. I would catch Matt watching him from the corner of his eye from time to time, the adoration in his expression so beautifully transparent as he listened as his boyfriend asked each of us about work and life in general. On a rainy springtime afternoon, it was a comfortable, homey place to convene.

I was sitting at the island, nibbling on tortilla chips and sipping a beer while Aaron chatted about the weather as he made a plate of nachos for the guys sitting in his living room. I stole glances at the play on the television from my perch on a barstool and made sure to nod occasionally when the cadence of Aaron’s tone told me he was waiting for a grunt by way of response.

“So when are you going out with him?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Curt.”

“Mmmm.”

“Curt!” I looked back at Aaron, who was standing with one hand on his hip, giving me an irritated stare. “Were you listening at all, or have I been talking to myself this whole time?”

“Uh.”

“Give the guy a break, babe. He’s waiting for ‘you know who.’” Matt stole a chip from my fingers, which freed mine to flip him off.

“Who?” Aaron went back to his task of piling cheese and beans on top of chips.

“Jack.”

And there he was, almost as though Matt’s casual mention of his name conjured the man himself. I took a big swig from my beer bottle, no longer listening to the buzz of my friends around me. Damn, did he look fine. His hair was damp from the elements and curled enticingly around his ears and at the collar of his leather jacket. Jack held a hand outstretched to greet Jason, who had opened the door. He introduced himself and offered him a grin and a nod before making his way toward the kitchen. Toward me. I swallowed hard, oblivious to the conversation around me. Until I heard Aaron.

“Jack? But I thought we were talking about Paul. Aren’t you going out with Paul?”

Aaron’s back was turned to us as he set the tray of nachos into the heated oven on the opposite end of the kitchen. He swiveled around gracefully at the approach of his newest guest, but it was too late. Jack had heard. He didn’t say anything immediately, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t eventually. I didn’t know him well enough to gauge whether or not he cared about me “dating” anyone else, so I fought the urge to correct Aaron and downplay my involvement with Paul.

Thankfully, Aaron was one of a rare socially gifted breed who knew exactly what to say and how to encourage others to participate without any clumsy machinations. He steered the conversation masterfully in another direction without any awkward rifts. The only way Jack would have recalled him bringing up Paul’s name after Aaron paused to take a breath was if it mattered to him. I figured I was safe.

In my circle of friends, any televised sport could either serve as the focal point or as background sound while we caught up with each other. We watched whatever game was available while catching up with current events and reveling in a return of sorts to simpler times when we lived together or near enough to do this all the time. Luckily, Jack went with the flow. He seemed perfectly at ease sitting with my buddies and sharing tidbits of his life. I sat near him on the sofa but not next to him. I didn’t want to crowd him or come across too strong, and I didn’t know how to strike the right balance. I was nervous but trying to play it cool. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell if I was doing a decent job of it, either.

Even after a couple of hours, I was on high alert and ultra-aware of the conversations going on around me. Jack and Jason were talking about a rookie pitcher’s incredible arm. I had to take a quick glance back at the action on the screen to remind myself who was actually playing. I wasn’t watching baseball. I was watching Jack. I nodded distractedly at something Matt said. He was telling me about a contract he was currently working on when I noticed Jack as he stood and walked to the kitchen to set his beer bottle on the island. He turned to give me a piercing look and silently beckoned me forward with the slightest motion of his hand. I swallowed hard as I rose to meet him in the deserted kitchen.

“I’m heading out now. Thanks for inviting me.” Jack smiled at me kindly.

“Yeah sure. Um… I’m sorry it didn’t work out today, but we play most Saturdays, so maybe….”

“Yeah, call me. Bye, Curtis.” He leaned into my space and gently brushed his lips over mine. I could taste the faintest hint of beer and instinctively closed my eyes and stuck out my tongue, hoping for more. Jack made a low sound deep in his throat before crushing his mouth over mine. He slipped his hand behind my head and held me close as he plundered and probed. I wrapped my arms around his waist and brought my pelvis flush against his. A light coughing sound startled us both, sending a furious blush over my face.

Matt smiled and gestured that he was just trying to pass through to the kitchen. I rolled my eyes at him and bit my cheek nervously as I looked up at Jack’s cocky expression. He reached out to smooth my hair back where he’d ruffled it. When he leaned in a second time, he gathered me in his arms for a brief hug and kissed my cheek sweetly.

“Hmm.” I sighed, rubbing my lightly bearded jaw against his afternoon stubble. I loved a little scruff on a man. I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until Jack spoke.

“Who’s Paul?” he whispered in my ear.

“Hmm. What?” My eyes shot open. I stepped back and stole a glance at my friends nearby before attempting to read Jack.

“Are you dating someone named P— Wait. He’s the ‘nice’ one you went out with the night you came by my bar.” The devilish smile and cocked eyebrow told me he had it all figured out.

“Well, we’ve actually only—”

“Are you guys serious? I don’t want to step on a nice guy’s toes.”

“Oh shut up. He’s… I’ve… we’ve only been out once, but we’re supposed to go out tonight. A jazz concert, I think.” I sounded sheepish and unsure, which was exactly how I felt.

“You’re a jazz fan?”

“Well, not exactly, but I like it… fine.”

Jack threw his head back and laughed. “Good. Well, have a nice time, honey.” He leaned over to kiss my cheek before walking toward the door. “Talk to you later.”

I stood still, staring at the door for a few seconds after it closed, turning only when I felt a nudge on my shoulder.

“He’s jealous.” Matt shoved a beer in my hand.

“Yeah, right.”

“He is. Trust me. It’s easy to see, Curtster.” He clinked our bottles together and left me to join the guys watching the game while I pondered the likelihood of my inspiring jealousy in Jack. I took a deep breath and returned to the sofa. This social-life business was stressful.

P
AUL
INSISTED
on picking me up for the concert later that evening.

“The parking will be atrocious, and it may be difficult to find one another there. Do you mind?”

What could I say? An alarm bell was certainly ringing. C’mon. I had ridden on the back of Jack’s death trap a couple of times already but I was hemming and hawing about having Paul pick me up in his Audi to take me to a classy jazz concert. Obviously, something was screwy. In my head.

The jazz concert was more entertaining than I’d thought it would be. And Paul was obviously in heaven. He talked nonstop about the artists and instruments and regaled me with stories of other concerts he’d attended that were even more superior than the fantastic one we’d seen. His words, not mine. Although the subject matter wasn’t as interesting to me as it was to my companion, I was charmed by his enthusiasm and, of course, his accent. As with our first dinner date, I noted my attention drifting when I heard the phrase “jazz horn flute” one too many times, but the beautiful cadence of his speech kept me from being completely uninterested.

After the concert, Paul took me out for drinks at a small bar in Georgetown before taking me home. So like any good gentleman, when it was time to say good-bye, he parked his car in front of my apartment and leaned over to stick his tongue down my throat.

What’s a guy to do? Two choices. Either I could shove him away and profess to never kiss on a third date or return the gesture by shoving my tongue in his mouth. So, I kissed him back. And it was… nice. I knew I wouldn’t invite him upstairs to continue making music of our own, but I didn’t mind a little harmless grappling in the dark. Until thoughts of Jack popped into my head. Not guilty thoughts per se, but comparisons. Jack was more forceful, more passionate, and my response to him was automatic. Whereas with Paul I was perfectly fine to keep it in first gear, making out but not really going any further. When I pulled away and thanked him for a lovely night, he smiled and assured me he’d call me. The end.