The Catching Kind (16 page)

"It's fat next to a zero."

Jayne snorted, and choked on her drink. "A stick figure is fat next to a zero."

"But, it's just going to happen over and over again. And every time he’s going to have to defend me because he's pretending to be my boyfriend and I'm going to know he feels stupid and embarrassed because he agrees with them."

I sniffed and reached for the box of tissues Kasey magically produced.

"And every time he's going to get
more
annoyed and embarrassed." I sniffed into the tissue, blowing my nose and wondering if I could drink another Margarita and just forget this entire weekend ever happened.

"Hailey, if he's that shallow, he's a jerky-jerk. Look. It's not like this is new to us or something." Jenna took my drink away and forced me to face her.

"It isn't?"

"Nope. We all love Dane, right?"

"I guess. Well, most of the time." There was the occasional idiotic guy move, but other than that, yeah.

“I thought you guys were a couple when I met you,” Kasey jumped in.

“You did?” That seemed—weird. 

“Yup. You’re super tight and he’s really protective. I thought he was going to break Connor’s nose today.”

"And,” Jenna added, “he's even better looking than Connor."

I nodded, although Dane was more of a model good-looking whereas Connor was just classic guy good-looking. Connor was real life good-looking ironically enough.

"And even more of a bed hopper,” Kasey threw out there as if we all needed reminding.

That was probably true also. Although, who knows how many girls Connor was picking up on the road and sneaking into over-priced hotel rooms.

Jenna kept going, "And, he says stupid stuff about women all the time."

I couldn't argue with that. Just last week Dane said if the world was coming to an end, he'd decided that only the redheads should be allowed into bomb shelters since they were already an endangered species.

I tried to explain the difference between
endangered
and
fewer
. I still have no idea if he really didn't understand or he was just being Dane.

"What's your point?" I had a feeling I wasn't going to like where this was going.

"My point is, you can like the guy as a friend and still think he's a complete moron."

"I know. I know that." My head was spinning a bit. I'd downed those two drinks way too fast. Especially since I was typically a one-drink girl. Buzzed and dizzy was fine, but I was going to have to avoid drunk at all costs if I was going to win this argument. "It's just..."

"It's not like you don't get hit on.” Jayne jumped in. “We can't go out without you getting hit on. You've dumped your last four boyfriends because you got bored with them. The last one left because he saw it coming. Just because this one guy has an obsessively wrong version in his head of what an attractive woman looks like, that's not your fault."

"Yeah," Jenna put in and went back to her own drink.

"Do you or do you not write books for girls trying to break the stereotype of those airbrushed magazine covers telling girls they’re beautiful. That healthy is beautiful. That smart is beautiful. Am I correct?"

"Right. I know this isn't all about how I look." Kind of.

"Because, you look really good." 

I grinned at Kasey. Since we'd met her, she'd been Jenna’s and my biggest cheerleader. 

"I don't look bad."

"Whatever. You know you look good. You're at the gym making me feel guilty every day. Your hair is gorgeous with all those spangly highlights in chestnut. You're cute because you dress cute. You’re actually really pretty, but that’s not your thing—working to look pretty. You look good."

I let my head fall to the side so I could grin at her.

"So, what's the problem?" Kasey stared me down, leaving me no room to back away from her question. "Are you upset about what the girl said, what the newspapers may say, or what Connor said that first day?"

 "Can't the answer be all those things?" I felt like crying. Like if I just had one good cry, everything would be better. I'd be out of this horrible situation and everything could go back to normal.

"Hailey, no one gets this upset—emergency chocolate and Margaritas upset—over
maybes
." It was never a good sign when even Jenna was pushing back. "We'll work on that. That's what friends do."

"But," Kasey jumped in. "If you're stressing about the guy, then let's just talk about it."

"Right." Jenna shrugged when I looked at her. "All we’re saying is you should think about why you're upset. If it's the attention and the people and the pictures, forget about them. Your girls love you. You're one of those authors who fans flock to. They all dress up in costumes and want to have their picture taken with you. They don't care that you’re not a size negative two. If it's Connor, then you're going to have to deal with it."

Jenna snagged another slice of cake and shrugged again.

I forced myself not to think about Connor. To think only about the next slice of cake, because, yeah. I was going to have to deal with something.

I just wasn’t sure what.

FOURTEEN

One of the best things in the world about being a writer is the ability to completely ignore your alarm clock ninety-percent of the time.

Not that I do. I’m typically up at seven and off to the gym. But, after emergency margarita night, seven a.m. might as well have been yesterday. There was nothing in the world that made me feel better than a nice, hard workout. Except maybe hitting a deadline and turning a book in. But, physically, I was a gym addict. I’m not a fitness nut, but I like to move. It gets my creative juices flowing, lets me justify having a job that sometimes means fourteen hour days on my butt, and allows for the emergency chocolate and Margaritas that every girl caves to.

So, it wasn't odd to see those raised eyebrows from the girls behind the counter as I flashed my badge in front of the infrared scanner just before lunch. By this time on a Monday I'd typically be home, showered, and sitting in front of my computer typing away the next great adventure of the undead and those who love them.

"Is Shawn in?" 

"Rough weekend?" Kim pulled out the trainers' calendar and flipped through.

"You have no idea." Because, really, even I couldn’t make this up.

"Oh,” she gave me a look that could only be call
conspiratory.
“I think I can imagine."

I started to laugh it off, but then thought about the look she gave me. "What?"

"Well, if
I
was dating Mr. Baseball, I don't think I'd be getting out of bed...well,
ever
." She dropped the book open to Shawn's page and highlighted the rest of the hour. "Of course, that's assuming I could keep him in the bed. If not, then, yeah. Maybe I'd be here."

I wasn't ready for this. I knew it was coming and I knew I'd be dealing with it sooner rather than later, but I didn't expect it to start at one place I considered a refuge. Even Jenna and Kasey weren't part of my gym. This was the place you came to put on your headphones and block the world out. The last thing I needed was the world joining me here.

"Oh. Yeah." Lame response Hailey.

"How'd you meet him?"

I was suddenly relieved we'd gone through and discussed these things. I'd thought we could put it off, but obviously I was wrong. People were far nosier than I anticipated.

"Our agents set us up."

I was getting good at the
truths that are a lie
thing. 

"Wow.” For the first time in my four years going there, she looked impressed. “I need an agent."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say,
You can have mine
, but I figured that was pushing my luck.

"I'm sure there's at least one who comes in here. Or, maybe one of those matchmakers." Wait. What was I saying? "Kim, every time I come in here a guy is hitting on you. You’re gorgeous. I seriously doubt you need any help meeting men."

"Yeah. Guys. But no one of the Connor Ryan caliber."

"Maybe you should get a job over at the Athletes Center.” Because then I wouldn’t have to be having this conversation. “I think a lot of them work out there."

She actually wrote that down on a sticky. As if it were a secret. Or that easy.

I avoided opening my mouth again for fear that this time I'd tell her she could have Connor too.

"Shawn had a cancellation. It's not a whole hour, but if you want to slip in now, I won't charge you. I mean, it's only half-an-hour." Kim smiled at me like there was something special going on.

With how small advances were, I wasn't going to stop and question my good fortune. But, I was curious if this was that celebrity thing. Would she be telling people,
Oh, Connor Ryan's girlfriend works out here. You can make an appointment with her trainer if he's free.

My shoulders tightened up just as I should have been stretching them out. I loved my gym and didn't mind if there was a way that helped them. But after working out here for years, I also didn't want to become
Connor Ryan's Girlfriend.

One of the best things about the gym was the small trainer spaces. Weights. Bands. Pads. A mirror. That was it. I rolled out my mat and started stretching.

"Hey kid." Shawn called everybody kid. 

I asked him once if he knew my name and he just slapped me on the back and told me I was funny.

"I hear you need to work off some stress. That new boyfriend driving you crazy already?"

"You saw whatever there was to see wherever it was too?" Did Dex and Catherine take out a billboard I didn’t know about?

"No. Kim told me on my way in."

"Great. Fine."

Shawn laughed. He had one of those full-gut laughs you expected to come out of overweight guys with lots of gold chains and slicked back hair. Or Santa Claus.

"Let's get some of that aggression out. Are you warmed up?"

I'd jogged to the gym and stretched, so, with only thirty-minutes to go, I wasn't giving up any of my time. 

"Yup."

"Great. Pull on your gloves."

Oh, Shawn. You know just what a girl wants to hear. 

I rolled my mat up and stowed it in the corner with my bag. I'd hoped he was going to be up for a little sparring as I really—
really
—needed to beat the snot out of something. I pulled off my yoga pants, completely comfortable in the little room in a pair of Lycra shorts and a loose, tank over my sports bra.

I leaned over, doubling in half for one last stretch as I untied my shoes and pulled them off before tugging on my gloves.

He pulled on a set of sparring pads and started working me through a fast, hard round of pound the snot out of A Certain Someone.

Every hit took out some of my frustration. At the stupid situation I should have just walked away from. At myself for not walking. At the apology I owed Connor and would have to give. And at every single person who wanted a photo or an autograph for the next however many days we managed to pull this off.

And, especially at Kasey and her less than subtle implications that I was upset because I had feelings for Connor. 

I ran the back of my arm across my forehead swiping at the sweat before it hit my eyes.

"There you go, killer. You're moving up in the world.” Shawn pulled off his gloves and grabbed a stopwatch. “Let's check your pulse." 

I counted while he timed and wasn’t surprised how jacked my heart rate was.

"I wonder who you were thinking about as you beat the crap out of him." 

I spun around. That voice wasn't supposed to be here. This was my happy place. My decompression zone. Connor was the last person I wanted walking in. And yet, there he was, leaning against the doorframe, just out of view of the mirrors. I'd been so focused I'm not sure I would have noticed him anyway.

"Connor." It was sad, and he probably liked it, but I practically panted his name. Of course, I was panting it because of thirty-minutes of hardcore cardio—unlike the majority of women who couldn't breathe when they made an attempted at those two syllables.

He grinned, watching me as I shifted, uncomfortable with his presence. "I had no idea you were such a bad ass." Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Shawn. "Hey, man. I'm Connor."

"I know.” Shawn gave him one of those guy head-nod things. “One of the suits I train has season tickets but travels three weeks out of a month. It's a good way to get a tip."

Connor laughed and the two of them started talking baseball and training and injuries and I suddenly realized there was absolutely no reason for me to continue standing there feeling pretty much naked in the tiny amount of clothing I was wearing. 

I rolled out my mat in the corner and swigged a couple swallows of water before grabbing my yoga pants. As I pulled them on, I caught a glimpse in the mirror of Connor openly staring at my rear end. I could only assume that was for Shawn's benefit. With a deep sigh and an even deeper yearning to be alone, I headed for my mat, collapsing into a few stretches.

"I'll let you cool her down." Shawn offered Connor his hand, and then waved as he deserted me.

The door fell shut behind him and I had no idea what to say.

I avoided Connor’s gaze and stretched for my toes. I shouldn't have been surprised when he settled on the floor next to me.

"You're pretty hardcore with those little fists of yours." His tone was deceptively light. "I had no idea you were so..."

Angry? Crazy? Prone to imagining the demise of those who tempted me?

"Athletic."

My head came up as he finished. Athletic? 

"I'm not athletic.” I tried to shake off the compliment, but he was still smiling at me. “I just like to keep in shape."

Anywhere outside the gym and I was off balance, but for some reason, the gym felt like a place I could relax my body awareness. 

"Right. That's why you're pure muscle under those curves." His gaze went right down my body, heating it. He probably had a patent on that move.

I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged looking at him. I wasn’t going to be swayed from dealing with yesterday based on a smarmy look and a sweet smile.