Long Ball(46)

Her brow furrows. “What was what about?”

“Hitting on our waiter? Are you trying to give me a real world example of how it’s done?”

“That your mind went directly to that tells me how desperately you need to get banged. I wasn’t hitting on him. I was telling him to make sure that I got the bill.”

I hesitate, not sure if I believe her. I decide that I don’t. “I may spend way too much time alone with a stringed instrument, but that didn’t look like ‘I’ll get the tab’ to me.”

She stands and stretches. “I plead the fifth. I’ve got to hit the ladies room, watch my purse?”

“Sure.”

I watch her as she walks away. Then, I can’t help myself, I look back at Tattooed Guy. He winks at me.

Shit! He’s seen me staring!



I look away as quickly as I can, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. But, also, I kind of do want to give him the wrong idea. Or, at least I want him to keep doing this—keep sharing gazes across the distance, winking and grinning and sending delicious bolts of electricity through my nervous system. It feels better than it should to just flirt. I can’t begin to imagine what it would feel like if we ever touched. Or kissed. Or fu—



“I’m back, what did I miss?” Alex adjusts the strap of her tank top and sits down again.

“Nothing?” My voice sounds higher than I meant for it to sound.

“Nothing at all? Not even with your friend over there?” She sips her beer oh-so-casually.

Prompted, I look over at him again as the waiter sets a full beer on the table. Tattooed Guy raises it in a private cheers and winks again.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Alex cackles.

Which makes me suddenly suspicious. “What’s going on?”

“Seems like the perfect badass is trying to get your attention.”

Sure enough, when I look over this time, he gives a small wave. Another shower of tingles falls over my body, but I don’t wave back. “What did you do?”

Alex holds her hands up, feigning innocence. “You bought him a drink. Go over there and take credit.”

“Alex! Why would you do that?” I fiddle with my scarf, suddenly too warm with mild mortification.

“Oh, come on, it’s harmless.” She dismisses my argument, waving her hand like it’s no big deal.

“He thinks I like him!”

“Don’t you?”

I can’t like someone I don’t even know, even if he does do amazing things to my body without even touching me. “I—that’s not the point.”

She sighs, suddenly serious. “Rachel, I knew you’d never open the door yourself, so I created an opportunity for you. That’s all it is. You just have to walk through it. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you go and talk to the guy?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You bought him a drink and said it was from me so I’d go and talk to him?”

She giggles. “For starters. And then I want you to ravage him! I want you to leave this place with a big, dirty f*ck you’ll still remember when you’re eighty. I know there’s a secret naughty girl inside you screaming to come out and play. A lady doesn’t spread her legs that wide on stage in front of everyone and not have a nasty streak.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “I eagerly await the day you run out of cello jokes.”

“And I eagerly await you getting it on with that scruffy delight. Just once in your life experience someone who cares more about your body than your bowing technique.”

“Hey, I’ve—”

“Nope. You never follow your baser instincts. For tonight only, be impulsive. Instead of comparing resumes and five-year plans, listen to your body and treat him like…like lust is a song you’re playing together. Not overplayed, over-practiced, lifeless notes you know by heart. Spontaneous like jazz.”

I blot my palms on my jeans. “You know how I feel about jazz. It breaks too many rules that are there for a reason.”

She stops what was going to be a longer rant with a hand on my forearm. “I’m trying to speak words you’ll relate to. Throw me a bone here.”

“Is this really that important to you?”

“It’s not important for me. It’s important for you.” Her expression grows serious. “Look. You’re getting the job you want, and that’s great. But you’re young. You’re supposed to be floundering around a bit before you settle down, screwing up and taking names. Taking names and screwing people. I’d hate to see you so focused on the end result that your life becomes a means to an end.”

I didn’t know she was so worried about my goal-oriented nature. I feel like her words should sting, but they resonate instead. “Thank you for caring so much.”

“Someone’s got to be the voice of chaos in your starchy life.” She grins. “Now are you going to go get him or not?”

“I’m not.” But I sound unsure. “He’s not even interested in me.”

“Oh, he’s interested. Snow White. With a tight ass. Remember?” She moves her hands like a conductor drawing the song to a close.

“Don’t make that my catch-phrase.”

“You should have business cards made.”