Page 22 of Fast Break
Twenty-Two
Charlie
After spending most of the past thirty days together, not seeingPalmerfor the past five has almost killed me.
I can't wait anymore, so I slice up the Tres Leches Cake and take two over to Palmer's at the end of the day.
I send her a text I'm on the way, but it doesn't occur to me she might not want me to come over.
So I'm not aware of her message begging off until I've already knocked on her door and she answers it with a confused expression on her face.
She wears a pair of baggy flannel pants and a sports bra, her hair a staticky mess and dark shadows under her eyes.
She looks as beautiful as ever, even bedraggled and exhausted.
"Charlie, what are you doing here?"
"I texted you I was bringing cake over,"I say, lifting the plastic container toshowher.
"Yeah, I know. And I texted you back that Iwasn'tfeeling up for cake right now. It was a roughpractice, and I just want to get to bed earlytonight."
My face falls."Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't check to see if you replied."
I thrust the container out to her."Here, take it. My mother will have my head if she finds out I never gave any to you. You can have it later as a snack ortomorrowmorning for breakfast. I'll let you go back to bed."
She takes the cake and sighs."Charlie–"
"Hey, no. It's okay."Ikissher forehead."I overstepped and now I'm going to fix it byleaving. Grab some rest and we'll hook uptomorrow."
"I'm sor–"
"No, don't worry about it."I flash her a smile toshowher I'm not disappointed, even though I am. But my feelings aren't what matter right now."Tomorrow. I'll call you. Okay?"
She nods and Iwalkaway. The door clicks shut behind me and I ride the elevator back to the garage.
The next day, I'm on edge at work. It's now the sixth day of not being withPalmer, and the withdrawal symptoms arestarting.
I can't focus on the work at hand and end up cutting and re-cutting the same thirty-second Reel fifteen times.
All I picture isPalmer, looking like a beautiful wreck last night.
She said she'd had a roughpractice, but when I look in on thefieldtoday, everything is going well.
I wait for abreakwhen she can remove her helmet so I can see for myself she's feeling better, and when it finally happens, when I can put eyes on her flushed but smiling face, I return to the office.
Around noon, I receive a text fromPalmer.
Palmer
Hey, I'm sorry about last night.
Me
No, I'm sorry for just showing up. Hope you were able to get some rest
Palmer
I did. I'm feeling a lot better. Andthankyour mom for the cake. It was a delicious breakfast this morning.
Me
LOL Told you
Me
Do you want to get togethertonight? I wanna hear how your parents reacted to your new look
Palmer
Dad didn't say anything. Mom sure did, but she restrained herself to only one snide comment.
Me
Sounds like progress.Dinnerand a movie later?
Palmer
I have another idea...pickme up at 6!
Me
6 it is
The rest of my day gets better, untilLibertycorners me in thebreakroom.
She sidles up beside me as I wait for my coffee to brew.
She flips her hair over her shoulder and peeks around, as if to ensure we'realone.
No one is in the room with us, but the walls are glass, and anyone can see inside, which is the only reason I feel relatively safe in her presence.
"Are you still seeingPalmer?"sheaskswithout preamble.
Iruna hand through my hair and sigh."I'm tired of this,Liberty. I can't keep having the same argument with you. My personal life is none of your business. Period. Full stop. If you don't stop harassing me about it, I'm going to have no choice but to go to Kathryn."
Her mouth gapes open."Are you seriously threatening me with HR,Charlie?
Fine."She lifts her hands in a flourish and lets themdropdramatically before turning to leave.
I haven't gotten my sigh of relief out, though, before she spins back around and marches right up to me, her head tilted all the way back to look at me.
"I saw you at thebarthe other night. I heard you. I see the way you look at her, talk to her,touchher. I won't pretend to understand why her and not,"she inhales a sharp breath, a glassy sheen to her eyes,"not me. I act like a jealous bitch because I am one."
Her waterylaughis without humor."You reallycareabout her, don't you? It's different for you this time?"
I flex my jaw and look away before nodding slowly.Libertyharrumphs.
"How ironic, then,"she says."Because I overheard her talking toTishayesterday. I was downstairs looking forCoachArkhady, andPalmerdidn't realize I was behind her. She was emphatic about how you're only havingfun, that you're just a distraction while she figures things out."
I scowl at her."You're makingshitup to stir the pot."
"I'm not,"she says calmly."It's what I heard. I'm telling you because a part of me doescareabout you, but another, maybe bigger part, is taking pleasure in watching you learn how it feels to be on that side of the equation."
She stalks out of the breakroom.Libertyis trouble and I won't put it past her to makeshitup.
But what she said has a ring of truth to it.
Afundistraction. Aplantobreakold patterns.
That's how this began withPalmer, at least for her.
It's always been about more for me, and I thought I was making progress.
If whatLibertysaid she overheard is true, then have I just been spinning my wheels this whole time?
Iclosemy eyes and conjure up the memory ofPalmerthe first night we made love, the wonder in her eyes, the heat, the connection. I didn't imagine it. I know I didn't.
I add cream to my coffee and return to my desk, eager to finish up and resolved to remind myself–andPalmer–what we have is more than a distraction as far as I'm concerned.
It's a little after six when I knock on Palmer's door.
She swings it open, a hand resting on her hip, and her small purse slung across her body.
A pair of sunglassesholdsthe hair off her face, and she'swearingcut-off shorts with adeeppurple sleevelesstopthat highlights the definition and tone of her arms. I admire the smooth muscles with my eyes, my groin already tightening in anticipation of touching them later.
Whoa, boy. Don't get ahead of yourself.
"You're late,"she chides, but there's no heat in her voice.
"Long day at the office,"I sigh and look down at my navy blue trousers and silvery-gray Van Heusen button-down."I haven't changed yet, and I'm greatly overdressed."
She reaches up to undo a couple more buttons, exposing more of the dark hair covering my pecs. She pats mychest."There. Now, come on. We're going to be late."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
She takes my hand and we ride the elevator to street level. Wherever we're going, it's within walking distance. While wewalk, she tells me about thepartyat her parents' house and her mother's muted reaction to her hair.
"I had a really good time, which seems so odd to say."She shakes her head."I never have a good time at home. It's why I jumped at moving in withBrennanat the time. I had to move away."
I swing her hand to my lips and plant akisson her knuckles."I'm glad things are getting better between you."
"I'm hopeful they may come to thegameon Saturday. I'mleavingtickets at Will Call just in case."
We turn a corner and she announces,"Here we are."
We're at a storefront with a large bay window, Charm City Inkslingers scrolled in on the glass in a retro font. Inside, a guysitsin a chair with his arm outstretched while another man in leather andwearinga pair of bifocals uses a tattoo gun on his inner forearm.
I turn to her, my brows raised in surprise."A tattoo shop?"
"Yep."Shepullsopen the old-fashioned door and drags me inside, the tinkle of a bell announcing our arrival. I'm still not sure if we're here for me or her, as she strides up to the counter still holding onto my hand for dear life.
"Hi. I'mPalmer. I have a six-thirty appointment?"
The woman behind the counter taps on an iPad, her blue hair swinging around her face as shemoves. She has a tiny hoop piercing one eyebrow and a metal ring hooked between her nostrils. Her arms are tapestries of intricate Japanese art in bold reds, blacks, and greens.
"You're getting a tat?"I ask.Palmernods.
"Yes. And you're going toholdmy hand through it."