Page 13 of Breakout Year
The guy nodded. “What kinds of dates?” He said dates a little disbelievingly, like Eitan was paying for more than his time.
“How do you feel about baseball?” Eitan asked.
A one-shouldered shrug. “Don’t feel any particular way.”
And Eitan thanked him. “We’ll let you know.”
The second guy was less tall, less lanky, and couldn’t have been that great of an actor, because his jaw fell when he saw Eitan before he recomposed himself. They went through the same procedure—NDA, discussion, opinions on baseball. (“Too bad about the Cosmos botching the postseason last year,” the guy said, and Eitan decided to let that slide.)
“What’s the last book you read?” Eitan asked, because even if they weren’t dating for real, they should probably have something to talk about other than the Cosmos’ playoff prospects and how Eitan factored into those. He got a scrunch of the guy’s forehead in response.
“Thanks for making the trip,” Gabe said.
Eitan didn’t get a chance to ask the third candidate anything.
A tall guy with sandy blond hair came in, spotted Eitan—his eyes widened behind his glasses—then turned around and strode right back out.
“Well,” Gabe said, “definitely not him.”
It all happened so fast that Eitan barely had time to register the guy’s face as anything other than a handsome blur. A handsome vaguely familiar blur.
Was that…?
Eitan didn’t bother waiting to see if the guy would regain his nerve and come back. He hopped out of his chair and sped out into the hotel hallway to Gabe’s vocal objections, mind going momentarily dizzy at the swirling paisley-patterned carpet.
“Hey”—Eitan called to the guy who was standing at the elevator, studying his own reflection in the buffed surface of its doors—“you okay, buddy?”
The man was tall, taller than Eitan, certainly. Tall enough to be comment-worthy any place but a locker room. Slowly, he turned.
Brown eyes. A pronounced jawline. A kippah.
It was funny how it always took a second to recognize someone you knew but hadn’t seen in a long time. Then, suddenly, it clicked, and the world went swimmy.
Akiva.
Who was here and not wherever he’d disappeared to years ago. Who, judging by the elevator’s lit-up call button, might vanish again like a desert mirage.
“Hey,” Eitan said, because that was easier than saying something like: It’s good to see you. Which it was. Or how long has it been? Because Eitan knew the exact answer to that question. Seven years was a long time. He settled for, “You should come back.”
For a second, Akiva looked like he might flee anyway. His shoulders—not quite as pitcher-broad as they had been when they’d played in the same league, but not that much narrower either—fell from where they were bunched defensively by his ears. He touched his kippah, clipped to his hair, a not-quite-brown, not-quite blond like the sand of the Arizona desert. Eitan had forgotten he did that, had forgotten the way his glasses magnified the intense brown of his eyes.
Time hadn’t changed the challenge in Akiva’s jaw. “All right,” he said finally. Somehow, impossibly, Eitan had forgotten the depth of his voice.
Akiva walked back toward the conference room. Eitan followed at a distance he calculated as far enough to be nonthreatening, but close enough to intervene if Akiva made another break for it.
Inside, they resettled around the table, Eitan and Akiva sitting across from one another like it was a job interview, which Eitan supposed it was.
Gabe looked between them, confusion wrinkling his forehead.
Eitan’s manners kicked in, even if the rest of his brain was firmly occupied with shuffling through questions like flashcards. What happened and why and what Akiva was doing here and why he’d spun around as soon as he’d seen Eitan.
“Gabe, this is Akiva Goldfarb. We played together in the Arizona Fall League. Akiva, this is Gabe Medlinger, my agent.”
“Akiva?” Gabe flipped through a stack of paperwork. “You’re not on the list.”
Akiva didn’t look surprised. “I use the name Spencer Lattimore for modeling work.”
“Fine,” Gabe said grudgingly, just as Eitan said, “Spencer Lattimore—really?”
