Chapter 11 #2
Hallie desperately needed to know what was going on in Brynn’s incredibly interesting mind. Because, as with some of their other interactions, if Brynn had been someone Hallie had met on a dating app, there’d have been no doubt in her mind that they were flirting.
And it definitely seemed that she’d just been checked out. Pretty heavy-handedly, too.
Only, this was Brynn that they were talking about.
And Hallie already knew that Brynn’s brain didn’t work exactly like other people’s.
For all Hallie knew, Brynn was trying to make sense of seeing Hallie in sportswear for the first time, when she was generally used to seeing her in loungewear or her work uniform.
It was one of the things that Hallie liked most about her.
The constant searching and synthesizing to better understand the world around her.
Beyond those impossibly big eyes. And the adorable freckles that dotted her stomach.
And the fact that, last night, Hallie had discovered that Brynn’s hair really was just as soft as it looked.
All of those things paled in comparison to watching Brynn watching the world. It would probably take a lifetime to do, but Hallie desperately wanted to understand how Brynn saw things.
Then last night, on top of everything else, Hallie had learned that Brynn, who did come from a life of undeniable privilege, also understood true loss. In a way Hallie couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Knowing more about Brynn was only making her more appealing, not less; it was the exact opposite situation than Hallie usually found herself in with new people.
She felt a hand on her forearm at the same time Brynn questioningly said her name. “Hallie? Are you okay?”
And then, Hallie realized, regretfully, that she didn’t know whether she wanted them to be on the same page about the undeniable attraction that she felt toward Brynn.
She walked over to the fridge to grab the oat milk, also pulling out the container of half-and-half, which she’d started stocking there, too.
If it was Hallie alone in this, then she could put it in a box. Explain it away. Rationalize it so that things didn’t have to change. So that she didn’t have to worry about what would happen if she’d misconstrued everything.
Not that she thought for even a second Brynn would make her feel stupid or hold it against her. But once it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.
Hallie had never been known for her bravery, especially not when it came to pushing headfirst into the face of rejection.
She bit her lip and focused on fixing her coffee, not looking at Brynn. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. After last night.” It wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, but it was still the truth.
She’d phrased it purposely so the answer could go in whatever direction Brynn wanted. It was, maybe unfairly on Hallie’s part, very open to interpretation.
But she was a woman on the edge, and she needed all the help she could get right now.
Brynn had moved closer again, and from Hallie’s peripheral, she could see her face scrunching up. Immediately, it cut through Hallie’s lust, so that a softness expanded in her chest.
It was a confounding mix of sensations that she’d been trying to get used to over the last week.
It felt like she was on a seesaw that was constantly teetering back and forth.
And every time that she thought she’d found a balance, some interaction they had would send her flailing hard in one direction or the other—only for Brynn to right things and slide Hallie right back to the other side.
It was emotional whiplash, and the most exasperating part was that she didn’t even know if Brynn was doing it on purpose!
Take this morning, for instance. They were coming down from the soft moments of last night’s vulnerability, and then Brynn did something like walk out in a towel and unabashedly check Hallie out.
Hallie was going mad. Well and truly mad.
She stiffened her upper lip and her resolve. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she repeated.
“That’s not a question,” Brynn responded quietly, their arms brushing.
“Are we watching Jeopardy?” Hallie teased lightly, though her hand shook as she tried to pour the oat milk.
Brynn looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m okay. I have that dream a lot, so, really, it’s not a big deal.”
Hallie opened the drawer to her left and took out spoons for both of them before she used hers to stir her coffee. “About your sister?”
Brynn nodded. “She died when I was six. She was eight. Leukemia.”
A heaviness settled over the moment as Hallie struggled to find anything that could convey the depth of her sympathy for Brynn. Everything felt like too much or not enough. Finally, she settled on, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. I care about you, Brynn. I hope you know that.”
It was the closest she’d come to articulating her messy tangle of feelings, even though her words didn’t do them justice.
But if she wasn’t going to push things between them, to voice the confusing thoughts out loud, then she at least owed it to Brynn not to act like a weirdo. To give her the comfort that she’d give any friend during a difficult situation.
Hallie managed to lean her hip casually against the counter and take Brynn’s hand in her own, interlacing their fingers. It’s what a friend would do.
And Hallie was going to be an amazing friend to Brynn, dammit.
Brynn smiled as she looked down at their hands, like it was exactly what she’d needed at this moment. That made it slightly easier for Hallie to push her feelings to one side.
“I know that you’re probably going to leave no stone unturned with Sydney, but I really do want to know about your date,” Brynn said, changing the subject and giving Hallie’s hand a gentle squeeze.
Which, unfortunately, didn’t have the same comforting reaction for Hallie that it seemed to have for Brynn. To Hallie, it was a very clear checkmark in the “you’re making things up in your mind” column.
But that’s what she wanted, right? For things to not get complicated. To not lose this new friendship that had already grown incredibly important to her.
She nodded, steeling her resolve. “Sure, we can do that.”
“Gotta figure out if Ruby is going to be a precious gem or not.” Brynn, clearly pleased with her own joke, tapped her free fingers against the rim of her coffee mug like drumsticks, saying, “Ba-dum-tiss!” under her breath.
Hallie side-eyed her, finally starting to feel like they were back on solid footing. “Did you really just do a rim shot?”
Still, she breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t going to get into her date last night. She hoped that they never would.
Brynn let out the sweetest, most petulant little sound. Hallie wanted not to find it so endearing, but she did.
“It was a good joke,” Brynn argued. “Topical, at least. I’ll work on it.”
Hallie knew, without a doubt, that Brynn was serious, even as a smile played at her lips.
Hallie could do this. The reality was, she cared about Brynn too much not to do this. Which meant that it was healthy for her to keep meeting people, especially as she tried to work through her crush—or whatever it was—where Brynn was concerned.
Still, even as she’d made up her mind, she couldn’t find the willpower to immediately let Brynn’s hand go.
“Now you’re just showing off,” Hallie wheezed as Sydney shot another perfectly executed backhand down the line.
Sydney laughed and spun her racket on her finger, not even slightly out of breath.
Hallie couldn’t say the same about herself.
Her muscles ached—her butt, her thighs, her arms, her shoulders, some muscle in her back that she hadn’t even been aware existed until this moment—and what had originally only been her gulping for air after long rallies had become a steady stream of deep breathing, with a wildly elevated heart rate to match.
They’d been playing tennis for the last hour, to varying degrees of success on Hallie’s side. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her actually winning any points was directly related to the level of effort that Sydney was putting in at any given time.
Still, it was great to see Sydney so happy and in her element. They’d grown up playing tennis together. When Sydney had gotten serious about trying to go pro, before the full-time training, Hallie had, on many days, acted as Sydney’s practice partner.
Which generally meant feeding her best friend balls and then trying not to get hit by them.
She’d picked up at least a few things over the years, even if they didn’t hold a candle to Sydney’s talent. And she had a great tennis wardrobe that made her look far more ready to take on opponents than was actually the case.
Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. That was Hallie’s motto when it came to getting on the court with Sydney.
“Am I going to stop getting free gear at some point?” Hallie asked as she returned an especially slow serve from Sydney, silently thanking her as she did.
So far, Hallie had done a good job of keeping her mind off anything except tennis and tennis-adjacent thoughts. She was only asking because the outfits were great, and she’d miss having access to them. Not because she still got a small thrill when she remembered how Brynn had looked at her earlier.
Sydney crossed the court with ease. The only sign that she’d ever had a serious injury was the thin knee brace that she wore each day, especially if she was playing and not just coaching.
“There’s always Christmas and your birthday, if the endorsement well runs dry,” Sydney said, returning the hit with a lob that gave Hallie more than enough time to get in position to continue the rally.
Hallie slammed the ball back from the center of the court, forcing Sydney to actually put in some effort. “It doesn’t feel as good if it’s not free.”
Sydney returned the hit gracefully. “It will still be free to you.”