Page 83 of Anatomy of a Player

• Will hit on your friends, even if he spent last weekend being all charming at a pool hall. No girls are off-limits.

• Turns everything into an innuendo.

• An expert-level charmer, the player has perfected every line and knows how to flirt his way in and out of every situation.

• Emotions: Often unreadable. Those who try to dive deeper will get swept away and forget what they were looking for in the first place.

Occasionally a player will show you a rare glimpse at a softer side, one that makes you think this one might be different. Studies are currently under way to prove if this theory has any validity, and we’re cautiously hopeful.

My heart knotted on that last line. I highlighted “are currently under way to prove if this theory has any validity, and we’re cautiously hopeful.” I considered deleting it. Adding something like, “Studies have shown that players don’t change. Avoid at all costs.”

But then—even though I knew I was only torturing myself—I closed my eyes and pictured the player I’d researched. In the beginning, his anatomy had been all physical, from the perfect amount of scruff to the smile and the eyes and the many impressive muscles.

Somewhere along the way, though, I’d crossed into more personal territory. His scars told a story of more than a cocky hockey player. He’d defended his mama and I knew he still would, no matter how many times she let him down. When my insecurities flared, whether about my ex-boyfriend, my relationship with my mother, or my body, he’d responded with surprising tenderness and made statements about my beauty that left no room for doubts.

Instead of deleting what I’d highlighted, I clicked on the bottom. The cursor blinked along with my heartbeat, and then I added another heading and typed in one last bullet point.

The key:

• Heart: The heart of a player is a complicated organ. Upon first look, it may appear that he doesn’t have one. If you look closer, you might find that it’s been heavily reinforced with walls. That disappointment and past hurt have made him hesitant to let anyone in. If you dig deep enough, you might just find a heart of gold.

Tears caught in my eyelashes and made them heavy. Mascara was most likely tracking down my cheeks. Pain radiated from my broken heart, misery replacing the blood and pumping through my entire body.

Maybe it was just a romantic notion that each player had a story explaining why he was the way he was, and that the right person could overcome all the barriers and not only find that heart of gold, but hold the key to it. Unrealistic or not, it was a notion I wanted to hold on to.

Too much damage had been done on both sides for me to be that person for Hudson. I no longer knew what was real or fake between us, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t fully trust him anymore. After everything that had and would come out, how could he trust me, either?

Without trust, we didn’t have a shot. As much as I knew it, it didn’t make the truth hurt any less.

Hopefully time would heal both of us. I was back on my dating sabbatical, but eventually I wanted to find another person I could share more of myself with, the way I had with Hudson—just without his first having made a bet to get that close to me.

The pang in my heart made me wince.

I pressed my hand over it and focused on this new, chi way of thinking I was going to try out. It meant that I wanted Hudson to find someone who would help him with his issues and take care of his heart. Apparently chi didn’t keep me from hating this metaphorical girl, but it probably took more than a minute to master, so I’d work on it.

My phone chimed, and I glanced at the screen. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it to be Hudson until I saw Lindsay’s name.

Wanting things that I shouldn’t would probably take some time to master, too.

Lindsay:Where’s the article? I want to read it one last time before we go to print.

Me:Sending it now.

Before I could change my mind about the article I was starting to doubt all over again, I clicked save and then switched over to my email. I typed in Lindsay’s name and attached the file. I moved the cursor over the send button and attempted to swallow.

I poured my heart out in that article.Which was both a reason to send it and to not send it. But deadlines were deadlines. So I clicked the send button and felt a mix of nausea and relief that it was out of my hands.

For better or worse, my article was going to be printed in the paper and distributed across campus tomorrow, my name and picture on the very front page.

Chapter Forty-Six

Hudson

The fact that this videogame didn’t require much brainpower was both a blessing and a curse. I’d eaten away hours of time with it, but if I let my mind drift, it always drifted to Whitney, and then the hollow pit that had taken over my body would open even more, and it’d suddenly take every ounce of effort to push the levers and buttons.

The door swung open and I squinted against the stripe of bright light, glad when it was snuffed out. But then the interior lights snapped on, bathing the living room in way too bright yellow light.

Dane came around the entertainment center and parked himself in front of the coffee table, right in the line of sight of the television.

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