Page 32 of The Amazing Date

Rather than take this bit of good news and chill with the other teams, recounting the rock club, Rylee buried herself in a book, ignoring the world, myself included.

Once on board, she continued to hide her head in the book. Guidebook on her left, notebook on her right, and me left to my own devices. So, for the last thirty minutes, I’ve been chatting up the solo traveler with the bright green eyes who sat across the aisle from us.

“That’s not jealousy you’re seeing. I’ve left her with all the heavy studying. Thank you once again for all the information. This has been extremely useful.” I begin to rise when I feel her hand on my forearm.

“One second.” Maggie pushes her long, red hair around her ear and grabs a pen. She pulls out a business card from the outer pocket of her laptop bag and begins writing. “Here’s my card and my personal cell number. If you run into any issues in Seattle, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

I take the card and slip it into my running belt. “Thanks again. I better—”

“Seriously, don’t hesitate to call. I think it’s a great thing you’re doing for your sister. She’s a lucky girl.” She juts her chin out toward Rylee. “Both of them are.”

I follow Maggie’s gaze. Rylee is using her left forearm to press down the city guide while writing furiously in her notebook with her right hand, the tiny tray table not large enough for all she wants to do. I stare, taking in her intensity, her focus, her concentration. It’s a thing of beauty.

Many people have attempted to explain how focused I get when studying something I’m about to sketch. And for the first time, I see what they mean. The rest of the world doesn’t matter; time doesn’t matter. Something deep inside is calling, a siren song only our inner spirit hears. I feel honored to witness it this close.

“I’m the lucky one,” I whisper before nodding and striding back to my seat next to Rylee. I slip in quietly, not wanting to break her concentration. I shouldn’t be concerned.

“Are you finished flirting with the Emma Stone doppelgänger over there?” Rylee doesn’t bother to look at me, her hands continuing to write furiously.

“Her name is Maggie, and she’s offered to be our phone a friend while in town.”

She spits out a loud breath and continues writing. “We both know what type of friend she is looking for, and it doesn’t just involve a phone call.”

“Jealous much?”

“In your dreams.”

“Already there, remember?” I give as good as I take, this seesaw we’re on never stopping. The low rumble of the airplane’s engines fills our silence. I lean back, click my seat belt, and close my eyes.

“Playtime’s over. And now nap time?” She bites out the words. For some reason she’s pissed, and I use the few moments of quiet we have left on the flight to address it.

“You can’t be seriously jealous over someone who I chatted with for what? Two minutes?”

She twists her arm and glances at her watch. “Thirty-one minutes and seventeen seconds, but yeah, let’s go with your estimate.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s timed me. Nothing she does should ever surprise me anymore. “Whatever, two minutes, thirty minutes. What does it matter? The second we got to the gate, you buried yourself in that book and ignored me. After the attitude you gave me for chatting with the other teams, I figured I’d keep my distance once on board, not wanting to piss you off any further. But somehow I’ve found a way to do that anyway.” I roll my eyes and push back my chair. It moves a total of two inches.

She closes her notebook and pushes the city guidebook at me. I take the super-thick book and stuff it into the seat back pocket in front of me. “It might’ve been useful to have you here as I processed all this information. We could have brainstormed. We could have been bouncing ideas off one another. Something. Anything that would get us an advantage. Don’t you want to win?” She finally turns in my direction, a slight squint of her brown eyes.

“We either win or lose. That’s guaranteed. Only one team will win. However, what we can control is enjoying the moments along the way. Do you want to get to the final day and only have the memories of holding a trophy or rather the million special moments along the way, even if we lose?” I know I’m fighting a losing battle. Gabby once had a similar take on life when she was in school, and her progress had clear delimiters like grades. Once she started her professional career, she discovered life isn’t so black and white. All she saw in her first two years of work was becoming a CPA, the certification her goal. She achieved that goal but has admitted how hollow it left her. A lack of a connection to her coworkers, no happy memories during the journey. An emptiness she continues to fight, the reason why she is about to do something she should have done a long time ago. It’s a painful process to witness someone you love struggle, but it’s a journey she needs to take, one which she’s made tremendous strides already. She’s only shared with me her decision to leave the job and go to law school. She just needs to pull the trigger, the concern over finances holding her back. I’m confident she’ll get there sooner rather than later.

Rylee, however, is as stubborn as she’s ever been.

“You don’t get it. Winning is the moment. I’ll gladly let the other teams sit around the terminal and tell jokes. I’d rather be studying and winning. No one is going to outwork me.” She states the words with the conviction of a preacher on a Sunday morning. But her blinders still show.

“Are you saying I’m not working hard? That I don’t care about how we perform?”

Her lips separate, and I can see her processing the words in her head before speaking. “I think”—her gaze floats over my shoulder—“that you can be easily distracted by”—her eyelids flutter; I’m sure she’s staring at Maggie’s profile—“things you shouldn’t. Not when the true prize is so close.”

Her words strike as intended. I reach across the tray and pick up her notebook. She reaches for it. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m showing you work comes in many forms.” I flip to an empty page, and she reluctantly hands me a pen. I scribble and then turn the page to her, reading out loud what I wrote. “Fastest way to Pioneer Square from the airport—walk to this terminal and take the light rail. Quicker and cheaper than a taxi which is my guess what every other team is about to do when we leave the plane.”

Her lips hang open as she flips the pages until landing on her Seattle page.

“It took me over forty minutes to map out all the different options, and I came to the same conclusion. How did you?”

The captain comes over the speaker, announcing we have begun our descent. I pull my seat up to the upright and uncomfortable position. “Found that tidbit out in the first five minutes of chatting with a local.” I nod toward Maggie. “Working harder isn’t the goal, Rylee. Work smarter, enjoy the moments and the people, and you can still win.” I hand her back her notebook and stare out the window.

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