10. Parker
10
PARKER
STEP BY STEP
I stood on the sidewalk outside of Heathcliff’s, the spring rain soaking through my cardigan as I tried to talk myself into going inside. I didn’t know what awaited me on the other side of this door. Not really.
Last night was fueled by adrenaline and desperation. Now, in the light of day, dim as it was, mortification was front and center. Past me was an embarrassment. I did not claim her. She was a stranger.
And yet, here I was, as Gigi had instructed. At Heathcliff’s. For flirting lessons.
I asked her to teach me to flirt.
Embarrassment flooded through me. Again. It was honestly a shock I hadn’t burst into flames from embarrassment yet.
“Give it time,” I muttered to myself, glancing over my shoulder. I could just…walk home. Text Gigi that I wasn’t feeling well. Pack up my bags and move to Liechtenstein, never to be seen again. I was pretty sure my passport was still current. I could—
“You gonna stand in the rain all day, or what?”
I swung around to find Gigi behind me, two coffees in hand and the hood of her jacket pulled over her head.
“It’s unlocked, you know.” She tilted her head toward the door. “Vaughn’s got a study group in there right now”
“Oh. I—”
“So, you could, like…open the door?” She raised her brows and lifted her coffee-laden hands. I jumped into action. “Shoot, sorry. Yeah, sure,” I said as I flung the door open and held it for her.
“Thank you,” she said as she entered the bar. “You’re so very chivalrous.” Her tone was sarcastic but her smile was kind. And I was confused.
I let the door close behind me and followed Gigi inside. True to her word, Vaughn and a group of fellow students were gathered in the corner booth, table covered with books and papers and such. To be honest, it looked much more my scene than the woman leading me in the opposite direction. Maybe if I sat at their table, I’d blend right in and Gigi would forget about—
“Move your sweet ass, Samuels. We don’t have all day.” Gigi said, ending any hope I had of getting out of this.
She led us to the opposite side of the bar, putting plenty of distance between us and Vaughn’s study group. Once she reached our table, she put the coffee down and shrugged out of her jacket, shaking her hair away from her face. Then, looking me over, she asked, “Do you need a towel?”
“I’m okay.” I ran my hands over my wet hair and shivered involuntarily. Gigi huffed out a silent laugh and shook her head. “I’ll be right back. The left one’s yours.”
I looked down at the coffee and reached for the cup she indicated. It was warm to the touch and I cupped my hands around it. Closing my eyes, I soaked in the heat and tried to gather my bearings.
I could tell her I changed my mind. That I don’t need her to teach me how to flirt. I’d tell her thanks for everything, but no thank you. I would…
Ugh.
I would repeat the disaster of meeting Halle over again.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the avalanche of humiliation that crashed over me and plopped down in my seat. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the abject horror on Halle’s face last night.
“You all right?” Gigi asked, and my eyes flew open to find her holding a hand towel out to me.
I reached for it, smiling my thanks. “Maybe I should just be alone forever.”
Gigi’s brows shot up. “Oh?” She took her seat across from me. “Is that Parker Samuels, future PhD talking, or Parker Samuels, I’m gonna barf ?”
A groan tore through me and I dropped my head to the table. Gigi chuckled. “It’s really not that bad,” she said, dragging her coffee closer to her. “In fact, I think Halle was worried about you.”
That caught my attention. I straightened. “Really?”
“Yeah. She asked if you were okay when I came out of the bathroom.” She scrutinized me through narrowed eyes. “Your sweater is soaked, take it off.”
I obeyed, draping it over the back of my chair. The chill in the air hit my damp skin and I shivered. Gigi shrugged out of her flannel. “Here, put this on.”
“I’m all right,” I started, but pressed my lips closed when I caught sight of her glare. “Okay.” I pulled it on, instantly warmed by the heat from her body. I hugged myself and sighed. “Thanks.”
Gigi shrugged her response and took the lid off her cup, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Anyway. How’s the weather?”
“The weath—” I narrowed my eyes, my brain trying to connect the dots Gigi was tossing onto the table between us. “It’s raining. You were just out there.”
“I hear it’s supposed to keep up for a couple days,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Man, is it depressing. Days and days of rain. Ugh. All this gray weather really gets a girl down. Maybe I should take up yoga, or get one of those happy lamps or something. You know, to counteract all the dreary weather. Did you know most people in Michigan are vitamin D deficient? Isn’t that crazy? We just don’t get enough sunshine.”
“I’m sorry.” I leaned forward, frowning. “Am I missing something?”
Gigi sat back in her chair and grinned. “Small talk,” she declared. “Lesson one.” Lifting her cup, she tilted it my way. “Do better than that.”
Sinking back into my seat, I stared at her. “You’re gonna teach me how to…talk.”
The smirk that lifted a corner of her mouth told me what she thought of my skepticism. “Seems to me, that’s exactly where we need to start.”
I winced. “Point taken.”
“Glad you see it my way. Now.” She rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “Hit me.”
“Uhh…do you like…bologna?”
“Do I like…” Gigi frowned. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
I covered my face with my hands. “Sorry, it was the first thing I thought of.”
“I’m not sure I want to know why it was the first thing you thought of.” She reached over and pulled my hands away from my face. “Try again.”
“Okay.” I nodded and straightened in my seat. I could do this. I’d talked to people plenty. I could do small talk. “How about them Red Sox?”
This time, Gigi tapped her chin with a fingertip as if thinking. “I’m not a baseball girl,” she said. “Dudes in tight pants, playing with balls…there’s no incentive for me to watch, ya know?”
“My dad is a big Red Sox fan. I went to so many games growing up.” I pulled the sleeves of Gigi’s shirt over my hands and grinned. “The tight pants are my favorite part.”
Laughter tumbled from Gigi, warm and full. I helplessly smiled in return.
“Parker Samuels,” she said, smiling as she shook her head, “objectifying baseball players. I’d have never guessed.”
I shrugged. “How else was I going to survive all those games?”
“So, baseball butts, huh?” Gigi eyed me, a glint in her eyes. “What else are you into? What other shocking secrets have you been keeping?”
I toyed with a button on the cuff of my—well, Gigi’s—shirt and shook my head. “I don’t think there’s anything shocking about me at all.”
“See, I would beg to differ.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip, her eyes holding mine. “I think we’re just scratching the surface here.”
“I’m afraid baseball butts is about as interesting as it gets.” I pressed the pad of my thumb onto the button hard enough to leave an indentation. “I’m pretty boring.”
“Now, that,” Gigi said, reaching over to cover my fidgeting hand with hers, “I do not believe.”
Heat filled my cheeks. I pulled my eyes from hers and focused them on her fingernails, short and shiny black. Did she ever wear anything else? I searched my memory and came up empty. Suddenly, it felt imperative that I know. “Do—”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said before I could finish. “I have known you for almost a year, and I’ve yet to get bored of you.” As she said it, she pulled her hand from mine and sank back in her seat.
I looked up to find her grinning, a playful glint in her eyes.
Laughing, I dropped my hands to my lap. “Thanks? I think?”
Instead of replying, she winked. Then, she pushed her chair back and stood. “All right. Time to wrap this up. I’ve gotta get this joint opened for the night.”
She started passed my table, but I reached out, grabbing her arm. “Wait.” Gigi turned back toward me. I scrambled to my feet. “I just…what if I don’t know what to say?” My heartbeat thrummed fast in my veins. “What if I open my mouth and the dumbest shit falls out? What if I ask her if she likes bologna?”
There was a flash of amusement in Gigi’s eyes. She didn’t try to hide it. “Well, you better hope she likes bologna,” she said, laughter lacing through her words.
“Nobody likes bologna!” I wailed, dropping back into my seat. “You’ve known Halle for a long time, right?”
Her gaze narrowed. “I have.”
“Could you, like…give me pointers? Things to talk about that she’s into?”
All traces of amusement evaporated. “I will not Cyrano you, Samuels.” Gigi leaned a hip against the table and drummed her fingertips against her coffee cup. “I’m all for helping you feel more comfortable, but I will not be your cheat sheet.”
I pressed my lips together and looked down at my entangled fingers. “I wasn’t—”
“At the end of the day,” she continued, reaching over to tilt my face up to hers. “If you two hit it off, great. If not, that sucks.” I inhaled, the sharp stab of possible rejection slicing under my ribs. Gigi kept talking. “But it’s not the end of the world. And winning someone over by pretending to be someone else is never the answer.” As she took a step back, she added, “And, who knows? Maybe baseball butts and bologna are exactly what she’s into.”
And, with that, she flashed me a grin and walked away.
I stared after her, thoughts and emotions a swirling tornado inside of me.
After a minute or so, I stood from my seat and pulled my still-damp sweater from the back of the chair. I started to pull it on, but the sleeves of Gigi’s flannel got in the way. Glancing toward the Employees Only door, I thought about giving it back. But then I looked out the window, where it was still pouring rain, and wrapped the shirt tighter around me, its warmth—Gigi’s warmth—still soaking through to my bones.
Later, I decided, heading for the exit. I’d return it later.