11. PARKER
ELEVEN
PARKER
My bag is packed, ready to leave for the away trip today. I’m going on the team plane, still unsure if it’s too weird and if it’ll only mean getting in more people’s way. The thing is, I could easily buy my own jet, but what’s the point? I don’t want a jet. The only place I’d fly is to games since I have nothing else going on in my life, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s already a perfectly fine plane heading in the exact same direction.
This way, I have a day or two to explore the city before the game, and then we’ll be off again. I’ll use this time to visit more of the country, and hopefully, getting out of Colorado will help prevent this depressive fog trying to fall over me.
The only downside is the way I’m overly aware of being a mood killer. I don’t want the team to even know I’m there. Maybe if I arrive early enough, I can hide in the back corner of the plane, and no one will even notice.
My phone lights up with a call, and I smile at seeing Mom’s name. Last we spoke, she was boarding a plane to Australia, and while it hurts that the one and only person in my life is on the other side of the world, I’d never begrudge her. Mom needed to get away. I get that.
“Good morning,” I say .
“I think you mean good night,” she jokes with all the humor of someone on their first international trip. She and Dad weren’t poor by any means, but between my school commitments and their work commitments, the farthest we ever made it for trips was Canada or Mexico.
“What time is it there?”
“Nine. We went out for an early dinner and ended up sitting at the bar and making it through a whole bottle of wine.” She giggles, and in the background, I hear Aunt Caroline yell hello.
“I’m glad you’re both having fun.”
“It was so needed.” She sounds good. Relaxed. But I know what’s coming next. “I couldn’t stay there, Parkie, you know that. It was … I just …”
“I know.” Being home without Dad would have been too much. It’s hard enough being in this city. Yet where she’s running away from those memories, I’m clinging to them. Craving that closeness to him again.
“How’s the team?” she asks, sounding less like she’s going to break into tears.
“It’s …” How much do I tell her? It’s fucking weird because I’ve dealt with my high school bully, and he made the misguided offer to be friends. Awkward because I can’t find where I fit. I know where my bank account fits, but I feel like I could offer so much more. Depressing because every game reminds me of Dad. Or … so lonely. “The team is doing great. We’re in good standing.”
“I suppose it’s too early to know if you’re going to make it to the playoffs.”
“Way too early. And no jinxing anything.”
“Sorry … sorry …” She laughs, and it’s obvious she’s tipsy. “You’re okay, then? Over there?”
“Yes.” I inject as much confidence as I can, otherwise I know she’ll be on the first flight home. “This has been good for me.” And that actually doesn’t sound like as much of the lie as it was the first time I said the words.
“Good. We’re going to go to bed, but we’ll talk tomorrow?”
I mentally calculate the time difference. “We’re flying into New York this afternoon, so I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good. ‘Night!”
“Morning,” I say to amuse her.
She’s giggling as she hangs up, and I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at it. How can I be so happy for her to be out there getting on with life while so desperately trying to cling to everything from my past?
I brush the thought aside. I’ve got my plan, and maybe once we get to New York, I can go out. There are plenty of gay bars there, and I’ve missed human contact. If I need to hook up to get my hit of fake affection, it’ll fill that loneliness for one night.
I glance around my home. It’s a three-bedroom penthouse in Cherry Creek, and I only bought it because I’d thought things were getting serious with my ex. That we were moving toward the stage of living together and talking about kids. The whole place is big and clean, with its own outdoor area. A perfect family home. If I’d been looking just for myself, I could have bought a shoebox in Denver.
Too much money, too little brains, my dad would have said. He really didn’t understand people who spent extravagant money on stupid things, and this penthouse is definitely a stupid thing. Moving out isn’t an option now that I’m settled, so if I want the place to not feel so empty, I need to change that.
Maybe it’s time I get a pet.
I check the time, and there are still hours before I have to leave for the airport, but that’s another roadblock. I’m planning to travel a lot, and I don’t want to buy a pet, only to leave it every few weeks. This isn’t the first time I’ve considered a pet, but the list of cons far outweighs the pro of companionship. Pets are dirty. Most of them are dumb. Cats might be cute, but having that fur shed all over the apartment sounds like a nightmare. My cleaners come every day as it is; I really don’t want to drag their team here in the afternoons as well.
Dogs are equally dirty, with too much energy, and while they might be willing to curl up in my lap, how do I sit there petting it, knowing it’s full well probably trampled through its own shit at some point?
The thought of a dog in here makes my skin crawl.
Snakes are clean but terrifying.
Rabbits are adorable, but are they affectionate?
Ferrets are devil creatures.
And once again, I’ve successfully talked myself out of a pet.
So I’m back at square one. Huge apartment. No friends. Ready to board a plane full of people who wish I was literally anywhere else.
I spend the next few hours unpacking and repacking my suitcase instead.
The whole way to the airport, my anxiety creeps higher. It’s been two days since I’ve seen Connor, and while I know that his whole friends suggestion came purely from the bizarre situation we were in, I’m still interested to know how he’ll handle it. Will he ignore my existence, like I’d assumed would happen? Maybe try to follow through on his promise until the whole friendship is so forced and awkward that I want to die? Maybe casually throw me out a hey and then sit with his team and pretend like he can’t feel my presence the same way I feel his?
Or maybe he really won’t feel it.
Being invisible is my thing, and it wouldn’t surprise me that while I’ve been obsessing over our conversation for days now, it hasn’t crossed his mind once. It’d be typical of me to put more emphasis on a conversation than it deserved.
I got my apology. Why can’t I be happy with that?
With my incessant need to arrive at places early in case I need a moment to find a bathroom and break down, I’m at the airport before anyone else and allowed to board early. I take the very back row, right in the corner, where I pull out my headphones and computer and make myself look busy.
Even if someone does see me jammed into the corner, they’ll be less likely to approach, and hopefully, the headphones will make it clear I have no interest in what any of them are doing.
Instead, I focus back on playing around with some new ideas. The last software I designed was all about masking yourself online. Most people aren’t aware of how this can be done, so I sold the memberships for cheap and made it as easy to use as possible, then marketed it as a way to keep your data safe. It took off, and while I hated selling something that I really believed in, with all my money tied to the business, I hadn’t had much choice.
It also made me bitter about designing anything else until two days ago when I’d gotten the bug. Nothing has taken place yet, but I’m getting vague ideas, and I’m waiting for one of them to take shape.
A hand waves in front of my face, and I jump so hard I almost put my head through the overhead bin.
“What the hell?” I tug my headphones down and find Connor in the seat next to me. The sight of him does nothing to help with how fast my heart has taken off.
“I called your name twice, but you didn’t hear me.”
“I was wearing headphones.”
“Didn’t notice.” He tries to look over at my screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Heading to a game. Assume you’re here for the same?”
He’s wearing loose gym shorts, socks with slides, and an oversized team hoodie. The casual look is way too good on him and not something I’d ever pull off in my life. Jesus, if I wore socks with slides, I’d wind up looking like some dad from the nineties.
“No, what are you doing here? In this seat? Right beside me?” I haven’t had time to remind myself to be professional, and some of the real me is sneaking out.
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Not really.”
“But we agreed to be.”
“Yes, but when we agreed to be friends, I thought that was more to make the whole conversation less awkward. Like when you go on a date that’s barely okay and end it with ‘I had fun, I’ll call you,’ knowing full well you’re never actually going to call the person.”
Connor blinks at me. “It wasn’t a date.”
“I know that.” I scowl because, yes, Connor, you’re straight. “I’m not talking about you and me like that. I’m talking about the fake-friend offer and now you sitting beside me. You don’t have to do that. It’s okay. I get it.”
“Good.” He eyes me. “Because I’m lost.”
“You know what? Never mind. Carry on.” I go to pull my headphones back up, but Connor tugs them down again. The accidental brush of his fingers against my jaw has my brain short-circuiting.
“It wasn’t a pity offer.” His dark eyebrows pull closer. “Are you saying you only said yes because you thought I was full of shit?”
“Ummm … kind of?”
He scoffs and goes to put in his earbuds, but I quickly continue.
“Because you’re you. And I’m me. We don’t have anything in common other than high school, and isn’t that … weird?”
“Parker, you know absolutely nothing about me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do because, like I said, I know nothing about myself. If I don’t even know anything, there’s no way you could. So why don’t you calm it on all those assumptions and … let it happen? ”
Let it happen? Me? A chronic overthinker? “We are not the same person at all.”
He smiles and reaches over to settle my headphones back on my head before putting his earbuds in. Connor turns his attention to his phone, and I’m so glad I chose the very back row because I think I stare at him with my mouth hanging open for the entire flight.