Chapter Twenty Seattle
Piper noticed the brightness before he opened his eyes, light cutting through the glass, which seemed wrong for this city. Seattle was not supposed to look like this. This was the kind of morning that could ruin him, and he was going to let it.
He opened his eyes to water and sky, both too clear, sunlight breaking across the surface. For a moment he stayed, not moving.
Then he remembered where he was.
Noah lay beside him, one arm stretched across the mattress. Piper sat up slowly, trying not to wake Noah.
He stood and crossed the room.
He rested his hand against the glass.
“It’s not usually this nice this time of year. You brought the sun.” Noah’s voice came from behind him, rough with sleep.
“It’s better than that.”
Noah shifted, sitting up. “Careful. You’re going to hurt L.A.’s feelings.”
Piper smiled. “ L.A. doesn’t have feelings. It has angles.”
“Very true.”
Piper stayed where he was, looking out the window. “It always looks like it’s trying to be seen.”
Noah got up and came to stand nearby.
“You could leave.”
“No, I have to play for the team they are paying you millions of dollars to beat.”
“Oh that detail.” Noah laughed.
“You know what I love about Seattle?”
“What?”
“Grunge,” Piper said after a moment. “That whole era.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “That was a long time ago. You’re a secret Seattle guy now?”
“I’m a secret not- L.A. guy.”
Piper shifted his weight, still looking out the window.
“I used to listen to the band Hole,” he said. “More than I probably should have.”
Noah blinked. “That I didn’t expect. They were not even Seattle grunge.”
“Courtney Love married into Seattle Grunge,” Piper said, then added, “She was a beautiful mess, but nobody tried to clean her up.”
Noah watched him more closely at that.
“I’ve always had a thing for misunderstood people.”
“That tracks,” Noah said as he reached for his phone and tapped Spotify. Music came in low, filling the room. Miss World by Hole.
Piper turned. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s on my lifting playlist.”
“That’s fucking absurd.”
“It works.”
Piper studied him, then looked away again. “I believe you. You’re a fucking riddle.”
The song settled into the room. The guitar heavy as Piper leaned back against the glass.
“This is better than anything on the charts right now.”
“That’s a low bar.”
“Still counts.”
Noah didn’t argue. After a moment, quieter, “One day we should go to The Abbey.”
Piper glanced at him.
“The gay bar.”
“I know what it is,” Piper said.
“Good.”
Piper looked back out at the water. “That would require being seen there.”
“Yeah.”
“That would be a problem.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them tried to resolve it.
“Fuck. I’m supposed to be at practice,” Piper said, turning away from the window.
“Call in sick,” Noah said, leaning back against the counter.
Piper picked up his phone.
Messages flooded in. He didn’t open any of them. He opened a message to his coach, and typed. Not feeling well. Need the day.
He stared at the screen knowing full well he never missed practice, then he finally hit send.
The response came back quickly.
Rest. Be ready tomorrow.
Piper read it, then set the phone down.
Behind him, Noah picked up his own. “I’m out too.”
Piper turned. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” Noah sent it without looking up.
The sky still blue, the sun burning through the floor to ceiling windows. The hard ending verse of Miss World filled the bedroom.
Piper’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Jayson. Why are you not at practice?
Piper kept staring at it knowing he was pouring salt over an open wound by being in Seattle.
Then a message from Vivienne. Remember we have a cocktail party tonight.
He locked the phone. Set it down. Then he turned to Noah. “I think I need to fly back to L.A.”