Noelle August - Boomerang

“Let them dry for a day, then put them back in the box. They’ll be good as new.”

She laughs, and the sound brings a rawness to my throat, because it’s a nice sound. And it’s a goddamn shame it’s so lacking in her life.

“Your son, Parker. Where does he play?” I ask.

“Oh.” She glances at the backseat and smiles like he’s there. “He was on a team in Laguna Beach, but I had to move closer to my parents so they could help out. So right now, nowhere.”

I start telling her about my team, but she interrupts me. “Thanks, but he’s not very good. He’s used to be, but now he’s scared of the ball. He actually runs away from it.”

“This is my specialty, Raylene. Bring him by. Admit it: you trust me.”

She smiles. “I’ll admit it. I do.”

I give her the details to my Dynamo practices. Then I unclip the cuff links and drop them into her open palm.

“Can you make it home okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “You’re going back for the girl in the restaurant, aren’t you? The pretty one with the curly hair?”

I don’t know what to say. I’m too surprised she noticed anything earlier besides my stomach muscles and the exact geometry of our place settings.

“It’s okay, Ethan. I just saw you look at her a few times. Is she an old girlfriend?”

“No, she’s . . . someone I like.”

The words sound intense coming out of my mouth, and I’m zoned out as I finish saying goodbye to Raylene, pissed that I’ve somehow made this thing I’m trying to wrestle down with Mia stronger by putting voice to it.

Someone I like.

Nice fucking going, Vance. Couldn’t have said someone I work with, could you? Or someone I slept with. Or someone I split sandwiches with.

Jesus.

When Raylene leaves, I head back to the restaurant, taking the stairs two at a time. I spot Mia outside and instantly see that something’s wrong.

“Really, Robby, I’m fine,” she says, backing away from him. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you and good night.”

Robby’s steps weave as he advances on her. “Come on, sweetheart,” he slurs. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

I walk up and touch Mia’s arm. “Are you okay?”

She gives a tiny jump of surprise, then I see her relief. “Yes.”

“Who are you?” Robby says, behind me.

I turn, making sure Mia’s behind me. “Go home, man. Your night’s over.”

He pushes out his purple chest. “What the fuck is this? You brought another guy to our date?”

“He’s right, Robby,” Mia says. “You should go home.”

“Are you kidding me? Bitch, I just bought you dinner.”

I step forward, ready to beat the shit out of him, but he puts his hands up and steps away, retreating. “I’m leaving,” he says, then looks past me. “Have a great night, you little whore.”

I surge after him, but Mia’s hand closes on my wrist. “Ethan, don’t.” She doesn’t let go, and I’m dragging her with me as I move after Robby. There’s no way I can get to Robby without hurting her. “Ethan, stop.”

I look at her, but it takes me a second to actually see her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I hear myself ask.

She hesitates. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

I take her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

I load her into Jason’s Jeep without even stopping to consider it. Mia gives me directions to her place, and we’re both quiet on the ride.

Part of me feels good about what I did with Raylene, like maybe I helped her. The other part is pure self-hatred. What was I thinking, leaving Mia alone with that fucking idiot?

Finally, I can’t stand the silence anymore.

“Did that shithead touch you?”

“Not really,” she says smoothly, like she’s been waiting for my question. “I mean he tried. I guess he did enough to shake me up a little, but you saw where we were. There were people around. He wasn’t going to do anything . . . real.”

For a while, all I can do is hang onto the steering wheel and make sure I don’t get us into a car accident.

I lose time after that. I’m on the freeway, then I’m pulling into her parking spot. I cut the engine and stare at the steps to her apartment.

I can’t stand myself.

I want to find Robby and hurt him. Really hurt him.

And I can’t look at her.

She’s about to get out of the car and disappear into her apartment, and my only chance of getting through that is by pretending the walkway in front of me is the only thing that exists.

Then I break my own rule and look at her, because tonight can’t end like this. There’s just no fucking way I’m letting that happen.

“Do you want to come up?” she asks. “Maybe we can hang out a little bit. You know—talk about tonight and—debrief?”

“Yeah. I want come up,” I say.

But the truth is, I need it.

Mia

Q: Do you like big crowds or more intimate settings?

Inside my apartment, I drag Ethan past the dog pile of friends and neighbors piled on my sofa watching American Horror Story and head straight for my bedroom.

Usually, I love my roommates, the warmth and chaos of living with this ever-changing tribe of friends and friends of friends. But tonight, I just want to seal myself into a quiet place, even if it’s with a person who makes me ache just to look at him.

I switch on the bedside lamp and flop down on my comforter. Mashing all my pillows together behind me, I stretch out and gesture for Ethan to have a seat on the high-backed chair by my desk. What I really want is for him to come sit on the bed, pull me into his arms, and look at me in that way he does—like he sees me, like I’m more than just a pair of breasts and a socket in search of a plug. But that way madness lies, so I’m also relieved when he turns the chair around and settles into it.

I watch him take in the gossamer drapes, the white stenciled butterflies on the soft gray walls, and my video equipment stacked on a leather bench at the foot of the bed. Then his eyes come to rest on me, and emotions flit across his face quicker than frames in a film reel. It seems like he’s taking this useless night as hard as I am.

He holds out his hand, and I can’t help myself; I take it. It’s warm and perfectly rough, and I can feel the life of him beating against my skin.

“You really okay, Curls?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” I tell him.

But sitting here, so close to him, with Robby’s ugly words churning in my head, I realize I’m anything but okay. A hard knot of resentment settles in my stomach, and I can’t decide if it’s toward Robby or Adam Blackwood or Ethan for giving me a glimpse of something so right and then snatching it away again.

I try to let that go, and say, “Guess we both picked winners tonight, huh?”

Ethan shrugs and withdraws his hand. “Raylene was okay.”

I gape. “What? She was a lunatic!”

“She’s just . . .” He runs his long slim fingers over the top of the chair, measuring his words. “I don’t know. Lonely.”

My face heats. Suddenly, the thought of spending another minute with him, rehashing the events of our evening, chatting like colleagues, feels as appealing as chewing sand. I don’t want to marvel over how fair and compassionate he is. How kind. It’s too much. I can’t sit here so close to Ethan, in my bedroom, and know that I’ve got any number of RobbyDTF’s in my future while this sweet, thoughtful person is completely off-limits.

Working to keep my tone level, I say, “I’m sorry. I know I invited you up, but I think I need to just chill here on my own.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I wasn’t—”

“I just need to take a shower and curl up for a bit. I’m fine.”

He shakes his head. “Can I get a word in here, Mia?”

“Sorry,” I say. “Go ahead.”

He gets up and comes over to sit on my bed, which makes everything ten times worse. I have to fight tears and the urge to throw myself on top of him.

When he looks at me, his eyes are soft and deep as night. “Listen,” he tells me. “I need to apologize for the other night. I sounded like an asshole, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You’re hurting me now, I want to tell him. Just sitting here and not being able to touch you hurts.

“But it’s the right thing,” he finishes. “We both have a great opportunity at Boomerang. I don’t want to jeopardize that. For either of us.”

“I get it,” I say. All this time I’ve wished for the opposite of that tool Kyle, someone who knows what he wants. Who makes a choice and stands by it. I should have been more specific. “And it’s fine. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”

I feel his reluctance to leave as a palpable force between us. But he stands and crosses to the bedroom door. “Okay,” he says quietly. I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. “See you tomorrow.”

Cookie, Rhett, and Adam have flown out to Vegas for a pre-planning junket, which means Intern Gulag is now Party Central. True, it’s at least partially my fault, as today’s employee catnip came in the form of piping hot Fatburgers. What can I say? I’m the Pied Piper of food bribery.

Vanessa—from IT, I think—and Trent from Customer Relations have created a gnarly obstacle course of coffee filters and Styrofoam cups and compete, blindfolded and in rolling chairs, to reach the last burger, placed like a victor’s trophy, atop the copy machine in the corner.

“You are my new best friend, Mia,” Vanessa tells me, and tugs down one side of her blindfold to cheat her way through a hazardous switchback.