I'm Not in Love

“Glad to be here.” I pass Wendy to Tristan, whose gaze slides away from me. “Can I talk to you before the game starts, Tara?”

Her eyes pop wide. “About a job?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Damn right, you can talk to me.”

“Mommy!” Tommy never misses a naughty word.

I lead her a few steps away from the kids and Tristan. “I made some calls and found out that Remington Plaza needs a fulltime evening reservationist. The job can be done remotely, and there’s potential for upward mobility in the company. From what my connection, Robert Lavigne, tells me, what they really need is a third-shift supervisor.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

“Oh, thank you!” Tara once again throws herself into my arms, and I love it. I know I should push her away—as soon as it is socially acceptable—instead, I cling to her.

“It’s not a problem. Not at all.” I glance at Tristan. The no-eye-contact rule seems to be a thing of the past. He stares at me, his expression odd. Not happy and not exactly annoyed—maybe more… puzzled. “You need to call Robert tomorrow morning. He’ll want you to stop by the corporate office uptown. You’ll sign some papers and set up your insurance plan.”

“Insurance? Oh, God. This is a dream come true—I’ve gotta tell Tris.” She pulls away, rushes to her brother, and starts rambling.

When he smiles at her, it’s genuine. A warm rush of satisfaction washes over me because indirectly, I put that smile on his face. When Tara shifts her attention to the kids, Tristan takes a few steps my way, stopping close enough for his scent to envelop me like a soapy cloud.

“Thank you, Remi.” He glances up at me. His eyes look stunning. Show stopping. Everything.

All I can do is nod, as my throat is clogged with an enormous, extremely uncharacteristic, lump.

“Hey, Coach! The game’s about to start!” Jared waves me over. “You’re gonna be late!”

“You’d better go. The team needs you,” Tristan says.

And I need you. “Uh, yeah. Can we talk after the game?”

This time, he nods.

* * *

Remi

The game passes quickly,though my need to clear the air with Tristan makes it feel like an eternity. I’m not as focused as usual, and the Bears’ resulting victory is narrow.

“That was, like, a serious close call, Coach Remi,” exclaims Jared after he leads the Bears in the high-fiving line to congratulate the Meteors on a game well played.

“It was, but you guys worked together as a team and came out with the win.”

“We sure as shi… We sure did.” His grin spreads from ear to ear. “You gonna come over to our place for dinner? Mom made meatballs.”

“I’m not sure yet, Jared. Give me a second to chat with your uncle, okay?”

“Cool. Heya, Tommy, check out the cleat print on my leg!” He races off to his brother, and I make my way across the field to Tristan. My lips quiver, revealing my anxiety—this conversation is critical to… to my continued breathing. Not to be dramatic.

“Good game,” he says vacantly, staring at Tommy as he examines the bruise on Jared’s thigh.

“Not as good as it should have been. I was, uh… distracted.”

“Oh, yeah?” He doesn’t ask what drew my attention away from the game.

Nonetheless, I need to tell him. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back last week.”

“No worries, Remi.” Tristan finally shifts his bland gaze to me. I can’t read it despite my burning need. “There’s no rule requiring daily contact.”

“You’re right.” I’m really going to do this. “But maybe there should be.”

Tristan is as surprised as I am by my suggestion. “What did you say?” He stumbles backward.

I grasp his arm to steady him and hold on. “You told me you don’t want a boyfriend… but, you know, maybe we could, like, date each other.” I sound like Jared.

“You’re saying that you want a relationship… beyond friendship?” he asks.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Would this relationship involve dating other people?” Another plain question.