Laughter ripples between Rosie and I, but Chloe just keeps walking and I track the sway of her ponytail until she disappears from my view.
William clears his throat with no attempt to be subtle, and I drag a hand over my mouth like I can physically erase the smile before turning to face him.
“You play cards?”
“Not well,” he answers.
“Perfect.” I smile. “I can teach you.”
I grab a deck of cards from the cabinet and make my way back to the table William has moved to. There are three Polaroid photos on top of a magazine. The first one is of Rosie knitting, not looking at the camera; the second one is a pot of flowers I recognize from the front desk, and the third is a selfie Chloe took with Rosie smiling and William reading behind her. She has one of those ear-to-ear smiles where she’s cheesing so hard her eyes are half closed. It’s hard to imagine this is the same girl who has had tears in her eyes the last two times I’ve seen her. This version of Chloe looks like she’s never cried over a boy a day in her life.
“Your girl took those,” William says, pointing at the photo I hadn’t realized I’d picked up.
That’s the second time he’s called Chloe my girl, but it’s the first time that I let my mind drift and wonder what that would look like. As soon as the thought forms, I mentally swipe at it, knowing that I’m not the kind of guy Chloe wants. Even if I thought I could give her everything she deserves, no one else would, and while I might not care what people think or say about me, there’s not a shot in hell I would let them judge her. I drop the photos, sit down across from William, and begin shuffling the cards.
“The game is poker.” I do one final shuffle and begin divvying out the stack. “The goal is to get the best five-card hand. The best hand possible is a royal flush: ace, queen, king, jack, ten,” I continue.
“Are you in a fight with your girl?”
My hand pauses for a second, William’s words tripping me up, but I catch myself and resume.
“Didn’t we have this conversation last time?” I scold him but with a playful smile. “She’s not my girl.”
William picks up his cards but keeps his attention on me. “You haven’t told her you like her yet?”
“I—” I shake my head, trying to focus on my hand. “I don’t like her.”
He doesn’t even reach for his next card. He’s too focused on staring me down.
“I mean, I like her. She’s cool. But I think even calling us friends would be a stretch.” I look through the cards in my hand, and I’ve got fuck all. When I look back at William, he’s still staring me down, not wanting to let this one go, so I say, “I’m just not really a relationship kind of guy.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “I just don’t really think they’re for me.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
He throws a hand in front of his face like he’s waving me off. “You’re too young to be jaded about love.”
I huff a laugh at his bluntness. “I wouldn’t say I’m jaded. I just have more of a…” I pause, searching for the right word, finding that, oddly enough, I actually do care what this man thinks about me. “I don’t know. Relationships just aren't what people associate me with.”
“Well, I don’t really care what people associate you with. What doyouthink?”
Again, his words give me pause. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who didn’t already know my reputation. I think about telling him the truth; that it’s easier to stick with a casual hook up rather than go through the process of getting close to someone, only for you to turn out to be different then they expect, and in turn, disappoint them. I like to think I’m pretty upfront about who I am. The problem is, people hear or see one thing about you and they think they’ve got you all figured out.
I glance down at my Movado, its black and gold accent catching in the light. As I follow the seconds hand, I remind myself that this is volunteer hours and not therapy. “I think…” I slide a card down onto the table. “That I’m going to win this hand.”
Before I know it, an hour has passed, and Chloe and Rosie enter the double glass doors, done with their walk.
“How’d you do, Willie?” Rosie asks, dragging Chloe behind her like a granddaughter visiting her grandma's work friends.
“Won every game after I realized I didn’t have to take it easy on the kid here.” He folds his arms, leaning back in his chair.
I shake my head with a laugh, collecting the cards into the box. “He hustled me,” I say, twisting in my seat, draping my elbow over the back of my chair, and focusing on Chloe.
She puts her hands in her pockets, shifting her weight to the backs of her feet, and there's a moment of silence. I’m sure Rosie and William are exchanging glances with each other, but I never look away from the girl before me.
