The Anti-Boyfriend

Simone dabbed her pizza with a napkin to soak up the grease. “I can’t believe he watched her for the whole day. What a trouper.”

“Yeah. It was pretty amazing.”

She squinted and examined my face. “You like him…”

“No.” I shook my head and lied, “Not that way.”

Says the girl who still masturbates to the transcript of our text chain about masturbation two months later.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a friend. It’s not like that with us.” I took a bite of my pizza.

“Are you just telling yourself that?”

Speaking with my mouth full, I said, “Unfortunately, no. Deacon has had plenty of opportunities to make a move. He’s not interested in me romantically.”

“But you like him, and you’d want him to be your boyfriend if you thought he was interested, right?”

Feeling hot all of a sudden, I snorted, “Boyfriend? Deacon? Deacon is the anti-boyfriend.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’s the opposite of someone who would be settling down any time soon—if ever. He loves the single life too much.”

Simone glared at me, seeming to see through my defensive attempt to hide my feelings. Still, I wouldn’t admit that my hopes had been dashed too many times already.

Taking a long sip of my water, I decided to be partially honest. “I have a crush on him, okay? I’ll admit that. A pretty big one. And maybe sometimes things border on flirtatious, but that doesn’t mean I expect it to go anywhere. He and I are in two different places in life. What does a single man living in New York City want with a girl who has a baby?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a very beautiful woman. And it doesn’t sound like he minds having Sunny around.” She tilted her head. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Hmm. So, pushing thirty, then. How do you know he wouldn’t change or grow to want a family? He seems good with kids.”

“Okay. Now you’re taking this too far.” I laughed. “Being a helpful next-door neighbor and all-around nice guy doesn’t mean he wants the real responsibility being with me would bring. He has enough women without baggage lining up at his door.”

Her face turned serious. “You don’t know he wouldn’t want Sunny.”

Her words made my heart clench. Just the thought of any man not wanting my daughter, or worse, someone leading her on and leaving, made me so sad.

“I pretty much do know, Simone. He’s made it clear in subtle ways that he wants nothing to do with me—with us—that way. He leaves abruptly anytime things get a little tense between us. The answer is in his body language and behavior. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know where he stands. And that’s perfectly fine. We’re just friends. To be honest? It’s kind of nice to have someone I can turn to right next door without having to worry about complications.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I think you guys would make a cute couple.”

Feeling flushed, I looked down at my phone. “Shit. I have to go. I’m gonna be late getting back to the office.”

“Way to escape the uncomfortable convo.”

I laughed as I got up from the table and dropped a twenty in front of her. “That should more than cover me. I’ll call you. Let’s do this again soon.”

* * *

When I returned, Cynthia asked if I could accompany one of our potential investors, Neil Spectra, around the city for the remainder of the afternoon. She was supposed to do it, but apparently had gotten called home for a family emergency.

Neil was the son of Albert Spectra, a multimillionaire who’d contributed generously to the arts over the years. Word was that Albert’s wife, Ginny, had recently passed and had requested that a portion of her money go to one of the two major ballet companies in New York. But it was apparently up to her son, Neil, to decide which company would receive the funds.

We visited a new exhibit at the Met. Then he expressed interest in going for coffee after so he could ask me some questions about our company. I suggested the Starbucks near my apartment so I wouldn’t be late getting home. Neil had a driver, so I wasn’t really putting him out.

Once we got to Starbucks, though, it seemed Neil was more interested in learning about me than City Ballet.

“Carys, I hope it’s okay that Cynthia told me a bit about your history with City’s competitor, The Manhattan Ballet. I was intrigued to learn about your background.”

“Yes, I have fond memories of my time there both as a dancer and behind the scenes.”

“I was kind of hoping since you have experience with both companies that I could pick your brain.”

Feeling unsure about where this was going, I nodded as I sipped my latte. “Sure.”

He clasped his hands together. “This decision is very important to me. It meant a lot to my mother. She grew up in this city with very humble beginnings, and one of the rare luxuries was going to the ballet with her grandmother. Ballet got her through some rough times when her mother—my grandmother—was sick. So, as you know, in her will, she asked that a major donation be made to the company of our choosing.”