Page 100 of The Thing About My Rival

Without looking at me, he moves toward the door tothe hallway, unlocks it, walks through, and pulls it shut behind him.

The click of it closing is the trigger that opens the floodgates and sends me crumpling forward on top of my laptop in a pile of stress, worry, guilt and uncontrollable sobs.

I know I have to look out for myself because no one else will.

But…fuck.

“So why do you look so mopey this evening?” Mona asks.

Despite the dark puffy circles under my eyes, I thought I’d been putting on a solid brave face for drinks with the Oldies. “Maybe because I can’t stop thinking about how fast the clock is running down. It’s only ten days, and two games, to the last match of the regular season.”

“What does that mean?” Joyce knows as much about soccer as she does about subtle hair color.

“The last game of the regular season decides who qualifies for the playoffs. Every club plays at the same time to make it fair, because whether a team gets through can depend on other teams losing.”

“Can the Commoners still qualify?” Mona asks.

Winston chuckles.

“It is mathematically possible,” I tell him.

“Sadly, not likely, though,” he says.

“I don’t care how likely it is. Possible is possible.” I turn back to Mona. “But we definitely have to win to have any chance at all.”

“And a whole bunch of teams above them in the league also have to lose,” Winston adds.

“Yes. But I never give up hope until the numbers tell me I should.” My mind flashes back to Hugo crouched next to my chair this morning, looking up at me with those hurt eyes. “A wise man once told me you shouldn’t contemplate losing, because it’s not how you win.”

“And will you find out about the job after that?” Joyce asks.

“I’m not sure. If we make it to the playoffs, they’d probably wait till after that to make a decision.”

“Well, you don’t strike me as someone who sits around waiting for someone to decide your destiny for you,” Winston says.

“Funny you should say that. I’ve been worrying about it since the moment I knew I had to compete against Hugo for the job, so I finally decided to do something about it. I can’t control anything about this situation, but I can create a contingency plan. So I spoke with my old boss in Portland earlier.”

“Portland?” Joyce shrieks in a response similar to Hugo’s.

Half the people in the bar turn their heads to see who’s taken such loud offense at the mention of a perfectly lovely city. “Sorry.” She overcompensates and lowers her voice to a shouty whisper. “But why would you want to move a continent away from Hugo the Hottie?”

“I think we’re all very aware that Hugo the Hottie isn’t exactly known for his lasting relationships,” I tell her, mimicking her shouty whisper. “And I suspect that once they announce they’re keeping him and not me, he’ll forget about me as quickly as he forgot the Paris janitor’s closet.”

Mona reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist. “We would miss you. We’ve been missing you already.Not that we begrudge you spending all your time with Mr. Sex on Legs.” She giggles at her use of a word as scandalous as “sex.”

“He doesn’t look at you like you’re a flash in the pan,” Winston says.

Hugo has joined me a couple times for drinks with the Oldies since that fateful first night when he strolled in here. Of course, he’s charmed Joyce and Mona to within an inch of their lives. But, more surprisingly, he’s also earned the respect of Winston.

Winston has a high bar for liking people. But even he told me, “Hugo’s not as bad as I’d expected.” Major praise indeed from the man who once met Tom Hanks on a school trip to a film set and found him to be merely “mildly pleasant.”

“Winston’s right,” Mona says. “He looks at you adoringly. Like you’re the most special gift in the world.”

“Or like he’s undressing you with his eyes,” Joyce adds, playing with the shiny red addition to her bangle collection.

“Well, I’m not sure about any of that,” I tell them.

My phone buzzes on the table beside me.

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