Page 11 of A Play For The Heart
For a moment, his face looks wistful. Before I can begin to decipher why, the emotion disappears, and a grin appears on his face. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”
Staring out the window as Henry drives us back to my apartment, I can’t seem to shake the uneasiness I have about Declan. Spotting the whales had temporarily tabled the queasy feeling, but now it's back with a vengeance. Henry had said that they can get pretty busy, which I understand, but he also made it clear they have free time. What is Declan so busy with that he doesn’t have time to see me once? I'm not asking him to see me every day and or spend every waking moment with me, but dinner would be nice considering I am his girlfriend.
I am still his girlfriend, right?
He never broke up with me and everything felt okay when we last Facetimed, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I am more invested in this relationship than he is.
Henry pulls me from my thoughts, “How’s the new job going?”
“Amazing! My coworker, Nathalie, is super cool, and the program is amazing. The kids who show up for the after-school program are hilarious.” I laugh, remembering something. “Oh! And there’s this boy named Micah, he may be the cutest kid I’ve ever met and is probably the Seattle Mavericks’ biggest fan. Guess what he has shaved on the side of his head?”
Henry laughs, shooting me a smile. “I don't know,” he taps his chin with his free hand, “a football?” He guesses.
“Even better. He has the number eleven.”
Henry whips his head to look at me, eyes wide, then quickly looks back at the road. “He has the number eleven shaved on the side of the head?”
“Are you a parrot now? Yes, Henry. That’s what I said.” I chuckle, basking in how adorably confused Henry looks as he puts together the pieces of what I’m saying together.
“But eleven is my number.” Henry responds slowly, “He has my number shaved on the side of his head?”
I do my best, but I can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up in my chest. I double over in my seat, laughing so hard tears are coming out of my eyes. He’s so perplexed at the fact a seven-year-old child has altered his physical appearance with his jersey number that he’s lost all his comprehension and communication skills.
“Why are you laughing, Sawyer?! What is so funny to you about this situation?” He demands, trying to keep his eyes on the road while I’m doubled over, shedding tears of laughter in his passenger seat.
“Your reaction is why I’m laughing,” I clutch my sides, gasping for air. “I told you a kid at work had your number on the side of his head and you lost all ability to speak except to parrot whatever I said back to me.” I take a deep breath, attempting to compose myself, ultimately losing my battle, continuing to laugh.
“It was shocking, okay? I’m a rookie, I didn’t expect anyone, let alone a kid at your work, to have my number on the side of his head! Like it's free advertising!” Henry finally starts to laugh with me. “I can’t believe he got it shaved; it’s going to grow out so poorly.” He chuckles.
“I believe it.” He shoots me a confused look at the conviction in my voice. “You’re a great player and an even better person Henry. If I was going to shave any player's number on the side of my head, it would be yours.”
He looks at me then, an emotion I can’t quite decipher flickering across his gaze. “Not even Declan’s number?”
“Not even Declan’s.” Not that Henry needs to know, but it’s not even a competition. I would choose Henry's number over Declan’s any day.
Clearing his throat, Henry changes the subject. “We have an away game in Detroit on Thursday, but we can do something this weekend if you aren’t busy.”
“It’s a plan, Stan.”
Henry and I sit in amicable silence for the rest of the drive. I look out the window as we drive through Seattle, absorbing the bustle of the city. He pulls up to my apartment building and puts the car in park. I gather up my things and open the door to get out. Right before I move to leave, Henry’s eyes drop towards my mouth, then quickly look away.
Did he just look at my mouth? Did Henry just think about kissing me?
Laughing to myself realizing how absurd I’m probably being, I shake off the thought and hop out of the car. I say bye to Henry before I shut the door and make my way through the dilapidated lobby. I ride the elevator up to my floor, make my way to my apartment, and unlock the door. The image of Henry glancing down at my lips pops back into my mind. I shake it away and shuffle through the kitchen, waving to Maren before I flop onto my bed, exhausted. After laying like a corpse for far too long, I force myself to get up and get ready for bed. As I change into my pajamas and brush my teeth, the mental image of Henry looking down at my lips replays in my mind. I know I saw it. But I don’t understand why it happened. As I lay in bed, another thought jumps into my mind right before I fall asleep.
Did I look at his, too?
CHAPTER 6
“I’m trying to cool about it, feelin’ like an absolute fool about it”
Cool About It—Boy Genius
Henry
I’vebeenhitonetoo many times in the head playing football. It’s the only logical explanation for my stupidity. What's rule number one of being in love with your best friend in secret? Don't look at her lips. Or any off-limits part of her body. Arms are safe. Eyebrows are safe. Lips are not safe. They are a very dangerous region and I broke the rule. Actually, I smashed the rule into a thousand tiny pieces and then steamrolled over them for good measure.
What was I thinking?
