The Playbook

I shiver, the cold brisk air hitting me as I zip up my coat. I pull my faux fur collar up around my neck and chin, cosying myself into its warmth. My favourite piece of clothing I own, I forked out the two hundred pounds for this jacket last winter, then told my mother that my account had been hacked, rather than admit the truth. I knew she’d top up my account, and later that evening there it was.

Arriving at Lil’s Café, I get into the queue which is almost out the door. My ears prick up to the conversation behind me, and I can’t help but smile.

“Oh, you have to see the article; she shot him down for all the world to see, Dana.”

“How do you know it’s a her?” Dana asks.

“Come on, as if a dude would call Asher out like that.”

“Well, it’s about time someone called out that jerk,” Dana replies. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on that dick.”

“Yeah, I know,” her friend says, her tone oozing sympathy. “I hate him for what he did to you. I never would’ve slept with him if I’d known—honestly.”

“Yes you would, you bitch,” Dana laughs. “It probably would’ve spurred you on more. But you can have Asher. After seeing that full spread of Jake, I’ll be all over that, thanks.”

“Full spread is right,” her friend cracks.

Casually, I turn around, trying to hold in my amusement while pretending to look at the cake counter. I spy on the two girls behind me joking and laughing about their indiscretions, until I’m interrupted by the waitress trying to serve me. Talk about bad timing.

“A large caramel latte to go please,” I say quickly. By the time I turn back around, the girls are gone. Disappointed, I wait by the end of the counter for my coffee.

Taking my coffee, I grip it firmly, warming my freezing hands. I walk outside back into the cold morning, my head lost in thought as I turn the corner. Somehow, I manage to drop the new phone that I’ve been monitoring The Playbook emails on.

“Crap,” I mutter, annoyed at myself. I quickly duck to pick it up, praying to myself that it’s not broken. As I stand up, my heel somehow catches in a crack in the footpath. I stumble and fall forwards but somehow manage to correct my footing until my heel finds another crack, sending me lurching forward.

“Shit, watch it, will you?” a familiar male voice growls. Looking up, my heart sinks.

“Adam,” I exclaim weakly. No fucking way. I stare at him helplessly, holding my now nearly empty cup limply in my hand as I watch the remnants of my drink drip down his shirt. How is it even possible that I’ve managed to do it again?

“Abbey,” he chuckles, his mouth breaking into a grin. He wipes his arms, then lifts up the bottom of his shirt—the only dry area—to mop up the coffee dripping down his neck. My stomach twists as I sneak a peek at his bare chest. My desire for him triples, if that’s even possible. Oh God.

“Man, you like pouring your coffee over me, don’t you?” He laughs, extending his arm to help me up. “Admit it, you like seeing me wet.”

Wet? My legs buckle at the thought. I can’t respond, because if I open my mouth, I’m going to embarrass myself—as if I haven’t done enough of that already.

“Where the hell have you been, anyway?” he asks, moving the conversation on. “You go from a daily customer to nothing?” He grabs the empty cup and examines it.

“So, you’re cheating on me, huh?” He raises one eyebrow and smiles, making me melt on the spot. “I thought I meant more to you than this, Abbey. I thought we had something.”

He’s teasing me, but I’m dying inside. If he had any idea of how badly I wanted him…I force a laugh and try not to sound like an idiot.

“I figured your safety was at risk with me around.” I look from him to my empty cup. “But it looks like you’re at risk anywhere. Nobody is safe with me on the streets,” I joke.

His beautiful eyes sparkle as he smiles at me, which sends my insides crazy. I fight the urge to just kiss him, something I’ve been wanting to do for months. It’s what Mel would do if she were me. She’d take charge and just go for it and deal with the consequences later. But I’m not her. And unfortunately, I have fear of rejection; the same fear that will make sure Adam never knows how I feel about him.

Stupid brain thinking it can protect itself from getting hurt.

Ugh. I’m such a mess.

I'm snapped out of my own thoughts by his voice.

“So, where are you heading in such a hurry anyway?” he asks casually.

Awkwardly, I brush my hair off my face and tuck it behind my ear, wishing I’d taken the time to at least comb it before leaving the house. I fall into step beside him and walk—in the opposite direction I was heading; but, oh well.

“Oh, just back home,” I say. “I just needed a caffeine hit. I have an article to write on a new type of orthopedic shoes,” I add. That’s a lie. What I really have to do is pour over a bunch of emails to find my next story.

“Tough at the top, hey?” he asks with a sly smile creeping onto his face. “You’re a great writer, Abbey. I know you’ll get where you want to be someday.”