CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scott opens the passenger door to his silver Accord and takes my single crutch, throwing it in the back seat. He’s a native to the Bay Area, so the fifty-degree weather is cold but bearable as he wears a thick fleece. He eyes my jacket, hat, and gloves as we buckle in, but I only shrug. I’m not as bad as Aspen, but I’m still from southern California — fifty is chilly.
“Thanks for the ride today. The cab bill to Hunter’s Point would have killed me.”
Once a year our company selects a week where various teams go out into the community and volunteer. This year my department picked the San Francisco Community Center for Youth all the way out in Hunter’s Point. When I voted on the location, I lived in Oakland with a car. Now the distance feels astronomical.
“No problem, Marissa. I feel partially responsible for your ankle, so it’s the least I can do.” Scott turns into traffic, but I keep my head down and don't look at anyone on the sidewalk in fear I’ll see Ryland.
True to his word, Ryland’s finished his run in time to give me a ride to work every day this week. Riding in his little icy blue Corvette while he sat beside me sweaty and high on endorphins wasn’t the imposition I should find it. I'd already arranged the ride to the center with Scott, so when Ryland offered, I told him I had a work friend picking me up. I may have left off the part of it being a male work friend. Accidently, of course.
I didn’t feel comfortable telling him. Don’t ask me why. There’s been no more kissing between us — I made sure of it by racing out of his apartment every night — and we’re not a couple. I do not have those kinds of feelings for Ryland, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Yet when the time came to correct his assumption, I hesitated.
Hell. Who am I kidding? Even I don’t believe my lies.
Honestly? I didn’t tell Ryland because I don’t want him to start thinking there’s something between Scott and me. But how in the hell was I supposed to work in a comment about Scott’s girlfriend without it being obvious? Sure I might care what Ryland thinks, but I can’t let him know I care. It’s one thing for me to crush on the tall soccer player. It’s completely separate for him to know I’m crushing on him. It’s a complicated balance. What we have going on right now is nice, and while I refuse to jump him in the hallway like my libido wants, I can’t lose him as a friend either.
“Are you okay?” Scott asks.
I stop rubbing small circles on my forehead hoping to ward off a headache and look up. I don’t run the risk of seeing Ryland this far from the apartment. “Yeah, sorry. Thought I had a headache coming on, but I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to stop for meds? I used to keep Tylenol in the glove box, but I think Kayla took it in the break up.”
Well now he has my full attention. “Break up? You two were together last week. What happened?”
Scott doesn’t take his eyes off the road but his head shakes back and forth slowly. “It was this huge fight over a parking space and whether or not it’s acceptable to yell at a person while they’re driving. Girls are crazy.” He pauses turning a corner. “No offense.”
I laugh. “None taken. Wearecertifiably crazy.” My own messed up life and thoughts are enough proof.
Two weeks ago Scott’s single status would have a different effect… hell any effect. Now there’s nothing and it’s not fair. My Scott crush lasted only minutes, shouldn’t I get a do over? He’s the type of guy I should want to date. Not one planning to run off to England and leave me behind. Scott’s permanent and dependable and cute.
Regardless, try as I might, the feelings aren’t there. Scott’s a great guy and one day he’ll meet a great girl, but sadly it's not me. I’m hung up on a tall sapphire-eyed soccer player who likes to kayak in his living room. Damn it.
**
“Where’s Keller?” Charles, my short rather plump and aging boss, yells into the group of employees. We're huddled together in the middle of the youth center’s gym floor waiting to start our day.
Scott raises his hand and steps forward. “His daughter’s sick today. He had to wait for the babysitter, but then he’ll be here."
Charles nods. “All right well everyone else divide up into groups. Three of you on cleaning.” Three other marketing assistants raise their hands jumping on the chance of getting out of here semi-clean. “Okay, the rest of you grab a paint bucket, brush, and get started. Marissa… you’re on supervision duty.”
I walk over to the area Charles points in to our left. Two grey metal folding chairs rest against the cinder block wall. In the second chair sits a cute strawberry blonde haired woman in a blue polo with the youth center logo embroidered in the left corner.
“Hey, I’m Marissa.” I reach out and shake her hand.
“Clare. I’m the center director.”
Clare can’t be older than thirty max — she’s quite young to be in charge of the place — although my best friend’s dating a computer game mogul. I suppose we can’t judge based on looks alone. I lean my crutch against the wall and settle in for a day of conversation with Clare. “What do you do for the center?”
“Everything.” She laughs. “We’re run by the city and always short staffed. I have a few volunteers, but admin wise it’s mine.” She holds her hands out wide to encompass the room. “I really appreciate your office coming in to help out this year. I offered to work with you, but your boss told me I’m not allowed to move from this spot.”
Charles joined the group with Scott, those assigned to paint the entire gym a nice bright white. He’s a tad bit scary when angry, but a pretty great boss with a big heart.
“That’s Charles for you. On Monday he’s planned a company carnival to celebrate the week of service. It’s a good place to work.” The theme for last year’s employee day included a picnic complete with horseback riding lessons. I’m interested in how he plans to get a carnival to the third floor, but he’s mum on the details.
Our conversation continues as we talk about everything from favorite books to who’s dating who in Hollywood. Clare’s friendly and talkative, helping the first three hours of the day fly by. A giant party sub is delivered, and as people start to break for lunch, Scott walks over with a mesh bag full of partially deflated soccer balls.
“I found these in the cupboard do you want us to inflate them before we go?” he asks.
