Page 167 of Play Along

Just then, as we’re staring at her phone screen and sitting in the tension of my confession, a call comes in.

With a 415 area code.

From San Francisco.

“Answer it,” I encourage.

Her attention darts from me to the phone, back to me again.

“Answer the phone, baby.”

She hops off the training table, leaving her computer behind and heading straight for the exit. Just before she pushes the door open, she answers the phone and brings it to her ear.

“Hello?”

After that, there’s nothing. I can’t hear her conversation. Can’t listen to her reaction when she’s offered the job. All I can do is watch through the small glass window as she paces the hallway with the phone pressed to her ear.

She’s smiling into the line as she talks to whoever just called her.

Her eyes find me, watching her from the same spot where I just told her I love her, and before I can watch anymore, she moves away from the door and out of eyesight.

“You okay, man?” Trav asks.

Through chattering teeth, Cody answers, “Cold as fuck and I can’t find my testicles, but I’ll be all right.”

“Not you, dumbass. I’m talking about Isaiah.”

“No,” I answer simply.

“Was that about the job offer?” Cody realizes.

They both cross the room to stand in front of me. I can feel them watching me with concern, but all my attention is stuck on the hallway outside this room.

I laugh to myself, but it holds no humor. “I don’t know why I thought I had more time with her.”

“Maybe they haven’t decided yet, and they’re just calling to let her know they’re not ready to make a final decision. Maybe they’ll wait until after the season is over.”

“They’re not.” I don’t even try to convince myself otherwise. I know in my gut what that call is about.

Trav pats me on the shoulder and Cody leaves me to stew during what feels like the longest five minutes of my life.

While she’s figuring out a timeline to move out of her apartment and catch a flight to the West Coast, I’m glued in my spot waiting for her to come back and tell me it’s over.

With my friends still somewhere in the room, the door finally opens.

That pretty auburn hair, those painted freckles I’m going to miss.

Kennedy stands there in the doorway, only looking at me when she says, “I didn’t get the job.”

Chapter 31

Isaiah

She didn’t get the job.

In what fucking world did she not get the job?

It’s the only question I’ve been able to ask myself over the last twenty-four hours.

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