Page 5 of Absolutely Not in Love
I roll my eyes. “It’snotscary. I’m perfectly safe here.” Not that I have any intention of ever letting Josh come inside. He might run into Felix, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
“If you say so. But you have to admit the boarded-up windows on the first floor make the place look like a crime scene.”
I’ve wondered myself what’s on the groundfloor of the building where I’ve been living for the past six months. There’s an enormous door at the foot of the stairs, but it’s locked and heavy, and Josh is right about all the exterior windows. They’ve been boarded up since I moved in.
I keep meaning to ask the landlord—removing the boards would at least help with curb appeal—but I keep forgetting. Probably because once I’minsidemy apartment, everything is perfect and I stop caring what the outside looks like.
“I promise there has been zero crime since I moved in.”
I don’t mention the enormous hockey player who sleeps in the apartment next door, but a flash of Felix’s concerned expression when he barreled into the hallway still crosses my mind. Something tells me hewouldcome to my rescue should I happen to need one.
Hockey player or not, he just seems like that kind of guy.
Not that I carewhatkind of guy Felix is. I don’t. I also don’t care about how good he looked. All that smooth, toned skin. The dimple in his cheek. The tattoo I definitelydon’twish I could see up close. The fact that he named a Tchaikovsky piece like it was no big deal.
Nope. I don’t care one. single. bit.
Chapter Two
Felix
“Hey,Felix,”Elicallsfrom across the locker room. “You up for dinner?” With practice over, the locker room has mostly cleared out by now, though that’s typical. I tend to take my time showering. I don’t mind hanging out with the guys, so I’m not avoiding them on purpose. But let’s just say I don’t mind the quiet, either.
Eli and our newest team member, Logan, who just dropped down from the NHL to work through some bad press after an altercation with a fan, are the only two guys still around. Eli’s company is tolerable enough, and I like Logan, but dinner?
I pull on my hoodie, buying myself a few extra seconds to deliberate. I already had dinner with a few teammates once this week. That feels like a pretty solid effort.
It’s a careful balance.
If I yield to my first impulse, I’ll go home to my empty apartment, eat in silence, then spend the night reading and relaxing on my own.
But I’m self-aware enough—read: I’ve been to enough therapy—to realize that if I ever want to havemorein my life, I won’t find it living like a recluse. So I go out with my teammates. Have dinner with friends. Make a conscious effort to interact with my community.
And I’m not doing half bad.
I’ve been with the Appies going on two years, and my teammates feel like friends as much as they do fellow players. And Harvest Hollow has grown on me. I have favorite restaurants, a preferred place to grab coffee. I even know people who aren’t on my hockey team, which is saying something, considering how much we travel.
This might not seem significant for the average person, but for me, every ounce of normal I claim is noteworthy. My social anxiety has been a looming threat for me since I was a kid. It’s only therapy that has given me the ability to function normally; as long as I keep my world small, intentional, I can function without anyone else even knowing it’s an issue.
But it’s always in the back of my mind. I’ve developed a sort of internal barometer that’s constantly measuring, weighing, asking the question. How am Ireallydoing?
If I let myself go home instead of saying yes to dinner with Eli, am I only letting myself hide? Or have I earned a night in?
I think of my neighbor and the run-in we had last week. I’ve been hoping to see her again, preferably while I’m wearing more than just my underwear.
A wave of embarrassment washes over me at the memory. I’d just showered and was in the process of getting dressed when she yelled from the hallway. A shot of adrenaline fired through me at the sound, and I didn’t even think. I just ran.
Not that I minded when her eyes roved over me. Gracie has never given me a second glance. I’d rather not date a woman who only wants me for my body, but if seeing me shirtless makes her notice me when she never has before? I’ll take it. I work hard enough to stay in shape. Might as well reap the benefits, however they come.
A desire to see Gracie feels like a pretty solid reason to head home. Even my therapist wouldn’t argue if it meant the possibility of me dating someone.
“Nah, not tonight,” I say, finally answering Eli. “I’m, uh, meeting Ivy.” Not exactly a lie. Ivy is what I call my library. It’s my favorite part of my apartment. It deserves a name.
Logan scoffs, and I look over to meet his eye. He’s the only guy on the team who knows who Ivy really is. OrwhatIvy really is, I guess. He’s also the only one who knows anything about my anxiety. Which is weird, since he’s the newest member of the team. We connected pretty fast, though. Plus, he’s dating Parker, the team’s social media manager. The nature of her job required me to be honest with her about what I can and can’t handle when it comes to team promo stuff, so telling Logan felt like a natural extension of that.
“Seriously, when are we gonna meet this woman?” Eli asks.
“Yeah, Felix,” Logan echoes. “When are we going to meet her?”
