Page 9 of A Play For The Heart
We spend some time watching the kids play some very questionable basketball, then Nathalie shows me the craft room and we head back to our offices.
“The after-school program runs until seven, so parents have time to pick up their kids after work,” Nathalie explains as we sit back down in my office. “One of us stays until all the kids are picked up, so we usually trade days on who stays late. We can both stay tonight so I can show you how to lock up and then we will add you to the schedule.”
Nathalie and I spend the rest of the night chatting, then wait for the last kid to get picked up by their parents. After some coaxing and sharing on my part, I learn that Nathalie was born and raised in Seattle. She originally wanted to be a schoolteacher but met Erika during her undergrad at a career fair and decided to work for her instead. Once the last child has left, Nathalie quickly locks up and we head out into the parking lot together.
“I’m not sure who you know in Seattle,” she says hesitantly, standing by her car, “but if you ever want to grab drinks or do something, let me know.” She fiddles with her purse strap, and I sense a bit of shyness in her tone, almost like she’s hoping I’ll take her up on the offer. I wonder if she’s looking for some friends as much as I am.
“That sounds amazing.”
“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sawyer.” With that, Nathalie hops into her car and drives off. I unlock my ancient Ford Escape, throw my purse into the passenger seat, and head home, excited about my new job and seeing Henry this weekend.
CHAPTER 5
“But you brought me here and I’m happy that you did”
Malibu—Miley Cyrus
Sawyer
Rubbingthesleepoutof my eyes, I wake up with excitement humming through my bones. Not even having to get out of bed before seven in the morning on a Saturday could dull the childlike joy. Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamt of seeing a whale in the wild. Even though the sun isn’t up yet, I’m itching with anticipation. Rolling out of bed, I hit play on my “morning vibes” playlist and set about getting ready for the whale-watching tour. I throw on my favorite cream-colored sweater, a pair of jeans, and my brand-new yellow rain boots, finishing the look with a dainty, gold, smiley face necklace that Henry bought me for my birthday last year. With the sound of “Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version)” in the background, I dance my way towards the bathroom, brush my teeth, swipe some mascara on my eyes, and spray the same orange blossom perfume I’ve been wearing since I was nineteen. The smell is reminiscent of summer and sunshine and days with no responsibilities.
I fight to wrangle my curly, blonde hair but it simply does not want to comply. Don’t get me wrong, I love how thick and curly my hair is since it hasamazingvolume. But some days I fight tooth and nail against it, and more often than not, the hair wins the battle. Today is definitely one of those days. With a huff, I give up and decide to throw it up into a bun. We’re going on a boat, so the wind is going to tangle it up no matter what I attempt to do with it.
Heading to the kitchen, I shuffle around as quietly as I can and pull out everything I need to make a chai latte. If I’m going to be up this early, then I’m going to need one. Non-negotiable. It’s almost sacrilegious to wake up so early in the morning and not have a hot drink to keep you sane. As I begin to steam the milk, a soft knock at the front door interrupts me. I fly through the kitchen to the entryway. Frantically, I scramble to unlock the door, flinging it open with more strength than I knew I possessed. Standing on the other side of the threshold, Henry’s holding two to-go coffee cups and a nondescript paper bag. A wide smile takes over his face as I stand in the doorway.
I drink in his appearance, momentarily forgetting he’s standing in the hallway and that my mother told me it’s rude to stare. His curly, brown hair is mussed like he didn’t have time to style it but in a way where it looks like it was intentional. I get hair that fights me tooth and nail and he gets perfectly mussed, bedhead chic. Explain to me how that's fair. I’ll wait. He’s wearing a gray sweater, navy chinos, and a pair of Air Force 1’s. Frankly, Henry looks like he’s ready for a photo shoot with GQ, not a whale-watching tour.
“I figured if we were getting up this early, we needed coffee and muffins to sustain us.” He says, gesturing with the coffee tray, then breezing past me towards the kitchen.
I momentarily stand frozen by the front door, contemplating my outfit choices. I’m not sure I’m dressed to stand next to a runway model this morning. Especially not one who looks as good as Henry does right now. I hear him chuckle behind me.
“Are you gonna stand by the door all morning, or are you going to come eat the blueberry muffin I brought?”
I shake my head, clearing all my odd thoughts about Henry and immediately launch myself at him. I haven’t seen my best friend in person since he moved to Seattle six months ago, which is the longest we’ve been apart since we became friends. The small hole in my heart where Henry exists didn’t feel especially empty before I saw him standing in the doorway, but I’ve missed him.
A lot.
With a deep belly laugh, Henry catches me and sweeps me into a crushing hug. My feet dangle in the air as he swings me back and forth. The motion wafts the scent of eucalyptus towards me.
“I missed you too, Sawyer,” he murmurs into my hair as he continues to sway me back and forth, a motion so soothing I could probably fall back asleep in his arms. Peeling away from him reluctantly, I smile and snatch a muffin from the bag. He hands me a coffee cup and I take a sip.
Oh my god…
“Where did you get this?” I hold back a moan as I take another sip. My taste buds have died and gone to heaven.
“This great little café down the street from my apartment. Found it a couple of weeks after I moved here. I’ll take you some time.” He shoots me a grin and takes a sip of his own coffee. “Ready to go?”
I nod enthusiastically, grabbing my bag and rain jacket as we make our way out the door.
“So,” I start, letting the seriousness creep into my tone, “Maren told me to look out for three different species: orcas, humpbacks, and minkes. Hold on, I took notes.” I riffle through my bag, looking for my trusty notebook. “Aha! Here it is. Orcas are black and white. Obviously.”
Henry chuckles, peering down at my loopy handwriting and poor drawings of whales covering the pages. “Obviously.”
I glare at his sarcasm, then soldier on. “I googled it, and humpbacks are more bumpy and minkes are smoother.”
“Very scientific.” I can’t see his eye roll, but I can feel it. In my soul.
More scientific than him at least. All he can do is point and say,Oh look, it’s a whale. At least I can identify the species. Seems pretty damn scientific to me.
