Page 17 of My First and Only Crush

He doesn’t want to look at me? He doesn’t want anyone to look at me?

My first and only crush would rather I be invisible. What cruel irony that right now, I’m very much not.

He sinks into the armchair by the window and yanks off his tie. “You shouldn’t joke like that with someone like me.”

I swipe my skirt and tank top off the floor. Where is my bra? “What do you mean, someone like you? You just said you shouldn’t evenlookat me, so I’m pretty sure if I crack another dirty joke, you’ll melt or something.”

“You shouldn’t joke like that with anyone. Better?”

“No. Worse.” I decide to get dressed without a bra, which I’m sure will send this man child into a complete meltdown.

“I am not a man you can trust, Sinclaire. Do you understand me?”

“No.” I throw my hands in the air, my skirt and shirt going flying. “I don’t understand you at all. But more to the point,you don’t understand me. Sorry for thinking that your room might be the only safe place for me in this entire hotel. Thanks for making it crystal clear that it is not.”

“Fuck.” He gives me a tortured look. “It is. This room is safe for you.”

“Nope. You think I’m a kid, Trick. And I’m not. Sure, there’s a part of me that’s still that girl who has a stupid crush on you, but I promise you, I’m a grown up who can rid myself of fantasies. I will shake that off just as soon as I can get to the airport.”

“Whoa.” He holds up his hand. “Slow down.” He glances at the room service train. “Sit. Eat something.”

“I don’t want it anymore. You have it. You—” I burst into tears. “Oh, fuck. You won the World Series tonight and I’myelling at you. Trick, you should be out celebrating.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. Come on.” He pushes out of the chair and crosses to me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and turning me to the bed. “Let’s start over. Grown up to grown up. You got me vegetarian pizza, huh?”

I huff a watery laugh. “Sorry it’s not a burger.”

Another knock sounds at the door.“Room service.”

Trick’s hand falls away from my back. “See? I’ve got the burger covered.”

I swipe my face as he goes to the door, and by the time he returns, I’m sitting at the top of the bed with the heavy tray balanced over my legs.

He takes a bowl of ice cream off his own tray and puts it in the mini fridge, then glances at my set up. “That comfortable?”

Not really. “It’s fine.”

“Gimme that.” He lifts the pizza plate up, hands it to me, then whisks away the tray.

I eat a piece of pizza as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and carefully hangs it up. He also takes off his tie and undoes the first button on his shirt, but that’s as far as he undresses before he joins me on the bed with his own plate.

He stretches his long legs out front of him and leans back against the padded headboard. He checks his watch, then says, “Want to talk more, or could I put on the TV?”

I flash a glance at his watch too. “Will you watch the recap of the game?”

“I don’t need to if you’d rather talk.”

I shake my head. “Turn it on.”

We watch the sports news as we eat silently. They show all of Trick’s at-bats for the game, and each of his home runs over the playoffs.

He watches himself dispassionately, almost clinically, and as the broadcast goes on, I eat less and less, absorbed in observing him.

“You’re staring,” he finally says.

“Sorry.”

He grunts. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it. You can stare all you want. I told you, this is a safe space for you.”

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