Pineapple Street(20)

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Georgiana had once woken up in bed with a naked couple. It was her senior year of college, and she’d driven to Amherst to visit Kristin. They had gone to a Chinese restaurant and had scorpion bowl races, where they ordered two giant vats of red punch for the table, divided into teams, and sucked out of straws to see who could finish first. They then went to a bar where Georgiana didn’t know a soul but had a wonderful time drinking buckets of Bud Light and playing “I never,” which Georgiana was very good at since she had never really done much of anything. They went back to Kristin’s off-campus house, where Georgiana was assigned the bed of another girl who was away visiting her parents in Boston, but when she got up to pee in the night, she ended up slightly turned around in the dark and climbed back into the wrong bed—the bed where Kristin and her senior-year fling were passed out. They woke up six hours later, wildly hungover, only to realize that Georgiana was in the wrong bed, and while she was wearing a navy T-shirt that said henry street tennis and a pair of leggings, the other two occupants were completely buck naked. Luckily, they thought it was totally hilarious, and they told everyone at brunch in the dining hall, where Georgiana ate four waffles before she realized she was still drunk and had to sleep it off before getting in her car and driving back to Brown.

To this day that was only the third penis Georgiana had ever seen, not counting the end of Boogie Nights or The Crying Game. (Movies didn’t count. Neither did porn, not that Georgiana watched any. She was very afraid of her phone getting a virus.)



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    Georgiana wanted to wake up next to Brady. She wanted to eat waffles with Brady. She definitely wanted to see Brady naked. When he came back from his two-week trip, they resumed their Tuesday tennis dates. Brady’s hair was slightly longer, and he had gotten some color on the bridge of his nose. Georgiana teased him that he’d actually lied to everyone and taken a beach vacation instead of hanging out in government conference rooms. Nobody looked this good after talking about malaria and flying cross-country in coach.

After they played for an hour, they were both sweaty and thirsty. It was a warm evening and Georgiana took a big swig from her water bottle while Brady changed out the tape on his racket grip.

“Did you cheat on me while I was gone?” joked Brady. “I see you got that nice underspin on your backhand. Who’d you play with?”

“I know! I figured out what I was doing wrong! My mom and I were playing over the weekend and suddenly it clicked.” She threw her water bottle back in her bag and pulled her hair out of her ponytail.

“That’s so cute you and your mom play together,” Brady said, and Georgiana promptly felt about twelve years old.

“She’s nearly seventy, so I go easy on her. She actually told me I should let you win.”

“You talk to your mom about me?” Brady asked, bumping her shoulder with his own.

“She asked who I was playing tennis with!” Georgiana said mock-defensively. “I didn’t say we were, like, lovers!”

“So that’s it then? I’m just someone you play tennis with?” He bumped her shoulder again but left it there so that they were leaning against each other, his whole arm warm on her side.

“I guess so far.” She leaned back against him and she could feel their closeness with every inch of her body. He reached for her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. She lifted her chin and he kissed her, his lips soft and warm. They looked at each other and laughed. She felt lightheaded with happiness.

“Come on.” Brady grinned, tossing the grip tape into his bag and zipping it closed. Georgiana grabbed her stuff and together they walked the path out of the park, simultaneously pretending nothing had happened and knowing that everything had changed.



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The next week they made plans to play after work, and since the courts were a ten-minute walk from Georgiana’s apartment, she cleaned her place ahead of time and left a bottle of wine and a six-pack in the fridge. In the morning she moisturized her arms and legs carefully, she washed her hair even though it was going to get sweaty, and she debated for a solid ten minutes about her underwear. White cotton underpants were obviously not sexy, but she couldn’t fathom playing sports in a lace thong so she settled on a light pink bikini pair that were at least small enough to be cute.

Georgiana played like garbage that evening, too anxious about what might happen after their game, but Brady played even worse. Since the courts were by the East River, his crazy shots went flying off into the water, and even though they started out with six tennis balls they ended with only four. They hit like such idiots Georgiana was pretty sure people thought she was a three-five and she would have been mortified if she weren’t so busy thinking about how Brady’s chest looked in his shirt.

After they finished, they both smiled at each other, flushed and uncomfortable as they delivered their lines. “My apartment is just down the street, want to come over for a beer or a drink?”

“Oh, sure, that would be cool.”

They barely talked as they walked, and when Georgiana unlocked the door to her place she held her breath, suddenly afraid he would change his mind or that she had left, like, a giant teddy bear in the middle of her bed. Once they closed the door they didn’t even pretend to look for a drink. Brady kissed her and she kissed him back. They kicked off their shoes and pulled their shirts over their heads and fell on the bed, tangled up and sweaty and laughing, and when they finished Brady lay on his back looking at the ceiling with a silly smile on his lips.