Page 22 of A Play For The Heart
“Have you both lost your minds? There is no way that me reenacting scenes from romcoms is going to help me figure out if Sawyer could be into me.”
“We’re not saying do anything crazy, like run through an airport or rent a mariachi band, but I think the little actions might work. Build the tension. See if she reacts when you touch her or let your gaze linger slightly longer than normal. Leave her little notes or buy her something that has a special meaning for you both. Not enough to be weird, but just enough for her to notice.” Deon pauses and his eyes narrow slightly, “Seriously, you can’t be weird about it. It has to be chill. You can’t panic.”
“Yes, exactly! Tuck her hair behind her ear or try that scene fromGhostwhere he comes up behind her at the pottery wheel. That one always gets the ole motor running.” Jack adds to the growing list of romcom clichés.
I guffaw, offended they think I can’t pull off this ridiculous plan. “I won't be weird about it. I am chill.”
“You’re not chill,” they say in unison. I can feel the frown on my face. I am chill. The chillest.
“Deon’s right though, it’s the small stuff that will help you gauge her feelings,” Jack says. I don’t love how the two of them agree to this asinine idea.
I begin to tell them that this plan is outlandish when the waitress returns to the table to take our order. Jack and I both order enough to feed a family of four and when Deon starts to place his own order, the waitress grows flustered. Her cheeks go red, and she starts nodding aggressively at every word Deon says. Jack and I try to hold back a laugh because this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Deon seems to attract women from a mile away, even without trying. The dark skin, piercing green eyes, and sparkling white smile seem to have an effect on women. They either get flustered or flirt aggressively. It’s hard to watch either way. Deon finally manages to place his order and when she walks away, his head drops into his hands and he groans.
“It happens every time and it’s so embarrassing. I don’t want this type of attention. Honestly, I would prefer no attention at all, thanks.”
Jack and I just laugh because he’s dramatic and it’s hilarious that he can’t stand how much attention he attracts. You would think an attractive NFL quarterback would enjoy the spotlight, at least a little. Not Deon. I’ve never seen someone go out of their way to avoid the female gaze the way he does.
“Not our fault you struck gold in the looks department, buddy,” Jack adds, not at all sympathetic to his plight. Deon only glares at him.
I redirect the conversation back tomyvery pressing issue. “First of all, I am deeply concerned about how much knowledge the two of you have about romantic comedies.”
“They’re good, man. You should watch some,” Jack assures me, as Deon nods emphatically.
“I’m just not sure how this will work with Sawyer. Some of it seems like crossing the friendship line and I don’t want to make it weird.” I feel stuck. Every fiber of my being is at war. I want to tell Sawyer how I feel, but the fear of losing our friendship makes me hesitant.
“That’s inevitable. You’re going to have to cross some small lines to see and if she doesn’t react well, then take a step back behind the line,” Deon suggests.
When he says it like that with all the logic, it makes sense that it could work. I understand the appeal of making decisions with logic. I try to make most of my choices with logic but right now all my choices seem to be laced with a pinch of panic.
“Look, I’m not convinced that this is the best plan, but considering it’s the only thing we managed to come up with, I’m going to give it a try.”
“Operation: RomCom is a go,” Jack responds, putting his finger up to his ear as if he's talking into an earpiece.
“I’m not calling it that,” Deon mutters. I agree with that. Not a chance.
“Suit yourself, but it’s a fun name and it makes us seem like super spies.”
CHAPTER 12
“You could just be yourself when you’re with me, no judgment”
No Judgment—Niall Horan
Sawyer
IwatchasNathalielaunches popcorn, aiming for Maren’s mouth. With flair, Maren snatches the piece from the air and chews. Giggling, she chucks another piece in her direction, hitting Maren square between the eyes.
Her eyes narrow for a moment before she snags the kernel from her lap and pops into her mouth. “Good throw.”
An action movie rages on in the background. I tried to turn the volume down when Nathalie arrived, but Maren swatted my hand away muttering about how no one silences Gerard Butler. I would prefer to keep my fingers attached to my body, so now we’re talking over the sound of Gerard Butler doing action stuff. I don’t know, those movies are not my thing.
The moment we left the bar last night, Maren was texting Nathalie to meet at our apartment the next morning and to bring snacks. Which is how I got here. Watching Nathalie throw popcorn at Maren while she regales the details of my breakup like she's a narrator in a movie. Nathalie showed up this morning arms full of snacks and eager to hear Maren re-tell the entirety of last night in intense detail. Maren didn’t leave out a single thing. From the vibe of the bar to the look on Declan’s face as I broke up with him, she covered the entire order of events quite well. I couldn’t even chime in because she covered all the bases.
“Are you sad about it?” Nathalie presses, swapping the popcorn bowl for a bag of chocolate.
Am I sad about it?
Yeah…no.
