13. HOPE
CHAPTER 13
HOPE
H mm. I don’t know about this one.
I twist my head as if that could help me discern whether to swipe right or left. It’s not about his looks, the guy is pretty normal looking. Dirty blond, slightly thinning around his temples, with normal clothes that don’t scream dude-bro-douche, an unassuming smile, and a decent build. He works out, maybe not with high intensity, but frequently enough to give him some definition. Which should mean he wouldn’t feel too intimidated to see I’m well beyond a gym rat.
Moreover, he’s a high school chemistry teacher, and even includes a couple of fun pictures his students must’ve taken while he was doing an experiment in class. In one, whatever it is was in the middle of exploding, and rather than surprise or anger there’s a childlike glee on his face that automatically makes him more attractive in my books.
My thumb hovers for another second until I just swipe right. Confetti rains down the screen, announcing that we’re a match.
Good to know that the teacher has taste.
A shadow falls over me. I lean my head back on the backrest of my chair and nearly jump in my skin at seeing the gorgeous upside down face of one Logan Kim.
“Whatchu up to, Garcia?” he asks because he clearly wants to hear it from my mouth, even though his eyes are pointedly trained on the screen of my cellphone.
Something nudges my foot and it turns out to be Starr, taking the chair next to mine on the left. On my other side, Rivera does the same.
I press my phone against my chest. “Rather, the question is what are you all doing?”
“Sitting. I thought it’d be obvious.” Starr cocks an eyebrow at me and I kick his foot under the table.
Rivera rubs his hands. “Are you kidding? This is the best table in the house to catch the exact moment the hotel staff serves the dinner buffet. You have a good eye, Garcia.”
“Not sure ‘bout that,” I mumble, checking my screen again. It’s not like any of my picks so far have turned out to be good .
Kim walks around the table to sit across from me. Once he’s situated, he extends his hand out to me. “Let me see that.”
Like a child, I try to hide my phone again. All he needs to do is motion at me and I guess I’m not at all immune to a pretty face, because I cave. Sighing, I stretch over the table to give him my phone.
The other two stooges scoot closer to the catcher and huddle like they’d do around an iPad in the dugout, trying to analyze some play or look at stats. Instead, they quietly examine the match I just made after looking at dozens of prospects, swiping left at least at half, and not matching with a quarter of them. I’m exhausted already and it’s not even eight in the evening.
Finally, Kim offers my phone back, saying, “You can do better.”
“He’s too normal, it freaks me out.” Rivera sticks his tongue out like it even gives him a bad taste.
Meanwhile, Starr leans back, rubbing his chin and staring at me like I’m the lab experiment. “Why did you choose him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“As your dating coach,” he says in a quiet voice that I can hear clearly because this area of the lobby is quiet. “That’s bullshit. I bet there are one hundred reasons.”
Huffing makes a strand of my hair fly in the air for a second. “You just want to know to make fun of me.”
“Am I laughing here?” Starr’s expression is the most deadpanned I’ve ever seen.
Like him, Kim and Rivera look more curious than eager to give me crap. I guess I’ll put that to the test.
“Fine, but if it leaves this table I know who all leaked it and I’ll slash your tires.”
“Fair,” Starr says.
Rivera shrugs. “Yeah.”
All Kim does is nod.
I lean forward and they do the same, so I can lower my voice. “For starters, he’s not a ten.”
Rivera bobs his head and says, “Yeah, don’t need a high school degree to figure that out.”
“Why the hell would you pick a three at best?” Starr scrunches up his face.
“Please.” I blow a raspberry like he is the one who knows nothing. “Any guy who is a four or higher is after a ten. I have a much better chance with the threes and under.”
If anything, this makes his expression grow even more sour. “Don’t tell me you think you’re a two or something?”
“Am I the only one who is mildly disturbed by how we’re measuring people in an arbitrary number scale instead of for who they are?” Kim asks, folding his arms and leaning back.
It’s Rivera who responds. “That’s what you have to do when you literally don’t know them. Eyes first, brains later, heart last.”
“Welcome to modern dating.” I slump forward, dropping my chin on my hand for my arm to prop me up. “Anyway, in the non numerical scale, this guy falls under normal. Decent looking but not enough for him to be obsessed with his own reflection, respectable job, within my age range, and normal hobbies like cooking and running.”
“Bo-o-ring.” Rivera pretends to yawn.
“Give me that thing.” Starr drops his hand on the table, palm facing up.
“You’re not gonna unmatch me, are you?”
“No, I’m going to find you better options, darlin’.”
I whine from my throat but fess up and hand over the device. He’s only lifted it to take a first look, when another shadow falls on the table.
“What do we have here?”
I stiffen at my boss’s voice. Even worse, he’s brought Otto in tow and I wish I could grab my phone and make a dash for my room. Or better yet, out of the hotel.
But the device is still prisoner in Starr’s hands and—wait, what is he doing? Why’s he pocketing it?
“Hey Steve. Otto,” he greets my boss and coworker with a tip of his head and he’s just missing the cowboy hat to fully play the part. We’re no longer in his home state but I guess you can’t ever take Texas out of the cowboy.
“Guys.” Steve nods at the others before turning his attention to me. “What are you all doing together?” The question sounds friendly enough, his expression placid, but given how it’s only directed at me, I detect that it comes from authority-Steve, and not off-duty-Steve. So if I take his question and apply subordinate logic to it, the veiled accusation implies that the four of us shouldn’t be hanging out together.
I’m scrambling to put together something that sounds casual and not absurd, which is definitely the opposite of oh I was just showing my dating app matches to three hot baseball players who aren’t tens, but a solid one hundred each, and trying to get their advice. Nothing big .
But Starr comes in to pinch hit. “We’re just talking about how much playing the field has changed nowadays.” Technically not a lie, but with a drastically different core subject than the other trainers probably suspect.
“Fielders have never been busier since batters produce more hits, huh?” Steve jerks his chin at Rivera. “Speaking of, how’s your knee?”
“A-plus-plus,” says the Boricua with a thumbs up, before pressing his lips tight to hold back laughter. We pay special attention to his knees after the scare he gave us midseason last year.
“And yours?” My boss shifts his attention to the catcher.
“In mint condition.” That’s also a lie and we all know it. Catchers’ knees are their weakest point and we’ve been extremely fortunate that Kim’s haven’t started acting up yet, even though he’s already been playing in the pros for eight years.
“And your shoulder?” Steve asks Starr. He’s never injured it, but it occasionally pains him enough that he can’t hide it.
The pitcher lifts his arm to flex his bicep and I’m surprised it bulges even through his thick sweater. “Ready to throw some cutters right this second.”
Otto looks down at me with a smirk before addressing the guys. “I’m curious about what Garcia can possibly be teaching to three professional ball players, though.”
“She has an unbelievable amount of facts about each of us stored in her brain.” Starr taps his temple. “It’s pretty wild, actually. Pun intended.”
My lips part.
And then Kim adds, “She’s probably the most observant staff member and honestly, as a catcher I admire that.”
Oh my gosh, is he for real? Or is that just to make Otto and Steve go away? But Kim’s poker face is world famous, so it’s impossible to glean the truth from his expression.
Maybe I need to stop staring at him, though. Going by how the cowboy’s eyes narrow on me, I think he’s starting to clue into the fact that I enjoy basking in the visage of Logan Kim.
“And she takes no bullshit, so she keeps us on the straight and narrow.” Rivera raises his palm and there’s no way I can leave him hanging after the compliment, so I high five him.
“Er, good.” Steve clears his throat. “So, I guess we’ll go sit at the table over there since there’s no room here. Let’s go, Otto.”
The latter looks dissatisfied with the direction this conversation took, but he picks himself up and follows after our boss. Fortunately, they sit at a table by the window that is removed enough to not carry our voices to them.
“Whew.” I slump on my chair.
Meanwhile, Starr takes my phone out from his jeans pocket. “Unlock this thing, please.”
Rolling my eyes, I comply only so I don’t have to dig any further holes for myself. It’s weird to see my phone in his hand, though. It looks tiny and?—
“Wait, who did you just swipe left on?” I ask, leaning forward.
“A finance bro.”
“Yuck. Good job, Cowboy,” chimes Rivera.
“Yeah, no bros for her.” Kim frowns at my phone. Apparently he can see well enough from his vantage because he says, “Right on that one.”
Starr lifts up his face. “What, is he your type?”
“He’s a doctor,” is all Kim says.
While I marvel at the fact that he can even read the description from that far, both Rivera and Starr nod like they agree. And Starr swipes right without further ado.
By the time dinner is finally ready, I end up with nine new candidates to try with when I’m back home in Orlando. Hurray for VPNs, am I right?