Page 14 of Triple Play

Felix closes his mouth with a click. He nods as if he’s thinking of something in particular. “Yeah, I have.” He studies his and Blake’s suitcases. “What are we gonna do for the next few days?”

The next few days. My heart accelerates. Felix’s face is blocked by his beard—but he’s looking at me with those same eyes as green as the woods.

No, I made my choice that day in June. Blake is a good man—he’s everything I could want. It’d be greedy to ask for anything more.

“For the next few days,” I say, “I’m the girl Blake Forsyth is dating and you’re his teammate, and we are going to have a nice stress-free trip from here until we get to Florida. Or else.”

Felix’s eyebrows rise. “The girl he’s dating?”

“Yes.”

“Not his girlfriend?”

Not yet. We haven’t said those words. I thought we might—I spent a week picturing this trip: sipping champagne or whatever people do on planes in first class. A beach house by the water: not the angry New England ocean, but something placid and blue. Falling asleep with Blake to the sound of the waves. We haven’t slept together, in the literal or figurative sense—haven’t done much more than kissed. That’s item number one on my agenda for this trip. Or it was item number one until this snowstorm decided to show up.

Along with Felix, who feels similarly unavoidable. Whose nostril twitches in disbelief.

“Mind your business,” I snap. Only it comes out full Boston. Mind ya business.

For whatever reason, Felix laughs.

“What’s funny?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing.”

“So, just so I’m clear, we’re not telling Blake about this.”

“Yeah, Melody, I mean, Shira. Shit, I’m not trying to screw that up.”

“Sure, John, make sure that you don’t.”

“Would it be so bad if he knew we were friends?”

“Let’s pretend we tell Blake that you and I are friends. How’d we meet?”

Felix’s cheeks—the slim margins visible above the scraggles of his beard—go faintly pink. It’s…cute. I’ve never seen him blush like that. He must not do that much. Or he does and it was too dark to see in the club. Either way, it’s a reminder: I don’t know the real him any more than he knows the real me.

“Okay,” he says finally, “point taken.”

“Great.” And I’m about to slip my phone from my pocket, to pretend I’ve don’t nothing since Blake left other than scroll and double tap on Instagram, when Blake comes back.

Felix and I are standing too close to pretend we haven’t been talking. Springing apart will only look more incriminating so I stay put.

I try to think of something we could be talking about. What doesn’t sound suspicious? “We were just talking about our favorite road trip food. What’s yours, Felix?”

“Uh.” Felix looks like he’s racking his brain for a response. “Milk?”

At least that’s awkward. I paste on a smile. Then I spot my suitcase next to Blake. “You got it back?”

Blake grins like there’s nothing he’d rather do than win back my suitcase for me. I skip over to him and throw my arms around his neck. Up close, he smells like expensive soap, like the best parts of a beach. Not like grass. A smell I tell myself I don’t miss, so I scrunch my hand in Blake’s collar. Whisper, “Kiss me.”

Blake presses an unsatisfactory peck to my lips.

“C’mon, you can do better than that.”

He runs a hand gently up my back. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

So I laugh and kiss him. His fingers find their way into my hair—not tugging, just gentle pressure on the back of my neck. After a month of dating him, I’m still not used to how he treats me like I’m someone deserving of all his manners—like he’ll open every door for me, for the rest of my life. As long as he doesn’t know about what you used to do…or what you and Felix used to do…

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