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“You go first. ”
“You go first. ”
I toyed with protesting, but I was too curious about what deep, dark secret Abraham had to risk him changing his mind. “Fine. ”
The only problem with going first was that I now had to summon a secret to mind. Honest to God, I wasn’t sure I had any. My job was to be a levelheaded, objective reporter, and as such I could tell that nothing bad had ever happened to me.
I opened my mouth and hoped something would float out. “I’m afraid I’m destined for mediocrity. ”
That sounded dramatic, even to me, but Abe didn’t call me on it. Instead, he studied me. “Why do you say that?”
I shrugged. “You know. General malaise of spirit. I hear New Yorkers find ennui fashionable. ”
“Tammy. ” He reached out for my hand once more, but this time it was an easy, comforting grip. His gaze didn’t move.
“It didn’t mean anything. Just—I suppose I’m having my quarter life crisis. But it’s tricky, not being the best of the best—I mean, look at you. You’re amazing. ”
His mouth quirked. “I’m amazing?”
“Yes. You know that. ”
“I like hearing you say it. ”
I flushed and looked down.
“Hey. But that’s not important. Why don’t you think you’re the best of the best?”
I glanced back up. “Because I’m practical. Because that’s what life is, I guess. Because not all of us become superstars. Some of us are just normal. ”
“You want to know a secret, one that I’ve learned from some of my older and theoretically wiser friends?”
I tilted my head. “Yes, please. ”
“Apparently we all hit that point where we realize we’re not the most talented or brilliant person in the room anymore. And it doesn’t matter. Because just because you’re not right now doesn’t mean you can’t learn and get better and still be at the top of your game. It doesn’t all have to be right now, you know. You have years. You can still be a superstar. ”
“Says the superstar. ” I took a deep breath. “Thanks. It’s nice of you to say so. Now you go. ”
He sent me one of his breath-stealing smiles. “All right. I don’t know if I want to be a superstar. ”
I leaned back in my chair, thinking of what he’d said Friday night. That he’d never finished his degree. That he wasn’t sure he could be anything. “Abe, aren’t you happy?”
He smiled down at his plate. “I have the perfect life. How could I not be happy?”
“Abraham. ” Now I leaned close, trying to make him look at me. “Abe?”
He looked away. “It’s stupid. Never mind. ”
“Abe, you promised me a secret. ”
“It’s a secret because I’m not usually dumb enough to talk to people about it. ”
“Hey, I’m not people. ” I took his hand.
“I love the game. ”
“I don’t doubt that. ”
“I love my teammates. I love the camaraderie. It’s my whole life. ”
I waited.
“I don’t know that I want it to be my whole life forever. ”
“Then it doesn’t have to be. ”
“It’s not that easy. You can’t just. . . leave this world. It’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known. How to be good at football. ”
“You don’t have to choose what you’re going to do for the rest of your life when you’re sixteen years old. You’re allowed to change your mind. ”
“How?” He looked up at me with dark, endless eyes. “How do I do that? I’m not good at anything else. ”
“You’re wrong. You’re smart. You’re clever. You’re dedicated. What do you want to do? You can do anything. ”
He shook his head, as though the question overwhelmed him. “I don’t know. ”
When I’d been thirteen years old, our parents had taken us up to Point Reyes for a long weekend during the summer. We’d stopped at Stinson Beach, which Abe had delighted in telling me was a Great White breeding ground, and the two of us had splashed around in the water with Charlie, who was soaking wet and the happiest puppy I had ever seen.
That had been the first time I’d ever seen Abe stare at the moon, and I’d asked him if he wanted to be an astronaut. He’d also said I don’t know back then, but he’d sounded contemplative. “You know when we were kids, I asked you if you wanted to go to the moon. ”
He looked at me now in surprise. “You did? What did I say?”
“That you weren’t sure, but maybe. And then you asked me right back, and I said that would never happen, because I was scared of heights. ” I smiled at the memory. “That was the first time I ever admitted I was afraid, you know. And you just looked at me with utter certainty and said I could do it. ”
“You could. Do heights still bother you?”
I shook my head. “Not the point. The point is, I have that same belief. You can be scared or nervous or uncertain, but it won’t stop you. You’re not the kind of person who can be stopped. ”
He regarded me for a long minute with a strange expression on his face, and then nodded briefly, like he’d come to a sudden decision. “What are you doing this Friday?”
“Nothing, I guess. Why?”
He caught my hand, his thumb resting in the center of my palm. Energy jolted through me. “Come to dinner with me. ”
I stared at him. “Abe, you’re confusing me. ”
He ruffled his hair with his free hand. “You’re confusing me. ”
And how was I doing that? I slowly drew my hand away, but he wouldn’t relinquish my gaze. “All right. Friday. I’ll go with you. ”
He grinned, and it lit his whole face, and my spirit with it. “Great. You’ll have a ton of fun. ” He reached out and enveloped me in a hug, and banked desire rushed through me. For the briefest instant, I allowed myself to relax into the contact, and then I forced myself back.
“I’ll pick you up at work. ”
Even as my heart jumped, I tried to calm it down. “You don’t need to do that. I can meet you there. ”
He frowned, and his dark eyes probed mine. “Why do you keep telling me I don’t have to do things? I want to. ”
I tilted my head. “You want to pick me up at the Sports Today offices?”
“I’ll be there at six. ”
Chapter Ten
On Thursday night, I baked hermit cookies to take to Ryan Carter’s (words I’d never thought I’d utter). They were my grandma’s recipe, packed with cinnamon and cloves and allspice. I left out the raisins and nuts in place of extra chocolate chips, and then formed them in a log and sliced it diagonally.
I was in such a good mood that I whipped up a quadruple batch—enough for the party, my roommates and my coworkers.
At work, the guys fell upon them even though it wasn’t yet nine in the morning. “They have spices,” Carlos reasoned. “Spices are plants. Therefore, this is healthy. ”
Sounded logical to me.
That afternoon, I worked on a story on the performance of the new quarterback, Jensen Clay. He’d apparently decided it was a good idea to go out drinking and driving, and had crashed a Lamborghini into a tree. While no one was hurt—not even the dumbass driver—it didn’t make the newest member of the Leopards look like a great addition. The networks and blogs were in a frenzy over his behavior, ousting even news of helmets.