Because this friends-only thing? It fucking sucks.

Chapter Ten

Emery

I pull into one of the few spots left in the city park’s lot. Today has turned out lovely—all sapphire sky, golden sun, and best of all, a low-smog alert—and it seems like all of Los Angeles has come out to enjoy it.

Walking to the soccer field, I look around until I see Hayden waving from the bleachers. There’s a cute couple with him that must be his sister and her husband. What are their names again? I try to remember. Hayden mentioned them in his text. Beth and . . . Daniel? No, David.

Beth is sitting on the bottom row of steps with a princess no older than three conked out on her lap. It’s amazing what little kids can sleep through; despite all the children shrieking and adults laughing around her, this girl is out cold. I can see the family resemblance to both her mother and to Hayden—the same dark hair, the same high forehead, the same straight nose.

A slightly older boy clings to David, his free hand gripping a box of apple juice. His messy nut-brown hair makes him look more like his father. He looks up at me with huge blue-gray eyes. When I smile and wave back at him, he grins and hides his face in his father’s pant leg.

David chuckles and pats his son on the head. “He likes you.”

“Careful, Hayden,” Beth says with a smirk. “You’ve got competition.” She reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a warm shake.

Hayden’s eyes swing over to mine, and a warm shiver runs along my body. “You came.”

I nod. “Of course I did. It’s beautiful out today.”

He and Beth both look up at the sky, trying to figure out what I mean. It’s LA—every day is pretty much the same. I guess this Midwest girl isn’t used to that yet.

Noticing that his nephew is still hiding his face in David’s leg, Hayden squats down to the boy’s level. “Hey there, Austin. How’s my buddy? I invited my friend Emery to watch you play today.” The boy grunts and buries his face even more. “You want a high-five?” Hayden says, holding up his hand.

Giggling, Austin bats at it with his juice box, squirting sticky sugar water all over his uncle’s hand.

Hayden’s air of cheerful calm doesn’t diminish. “You excited to play today?”

Austin finally speaks up. “Yeah. I’m gonna soccer.”

“He cried on the way here,” Beth interjects. “He wanted to wear his dinosaur shirt, but we put him in his league uniform, so . . . you can guess.”

A stout man in a baseball cap walks onto the turf and blows his whistle. The chaos of parents and kids all around us spikes to a crescendo.

“Looks like it’s time to get on the field.” David bends down to take Austin’s hand. “Ready to go see your friends?”

“No,” Austin says.

“Come on, little dude. Don’t you want to—”

Austin screams so loudly and so suddenly that I jump. His sister squirms in Beth’s arms, still half-asleep.

David sighs. “Hayden, can you take him somewhere quiet? I have to get his bag from the car.”

“No problem.” Hayden scoops up the flailing Austin and walks off toward a nearby stand of trees.

When both men have left, Beth turns to me. “Sorry about that,” she says, stroking her daughter’s raven hair to soothe her. “I think he’s just overstimulated. He loves soccer, but sometimes all the people and noise and activity . . .” She makes a bzzt noise. “Blows a fuse.”

I shake my head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Life is tough when you’re a kid.”

“Heh . . . tell me about it. Hayden’s great with him, though. Which is a huge help. David and I didn’t get much sleep last night. Georgia kept waking up all night with some weird dream. Too much candy before bed.” Beth dips her head to indicate her daughter, who is already comatose on her lap again. Then she hesitates. “When Hayden mentioned he’d be bringing a girl . . . I gotta say, I didn’t expect you.”

Now she has my attention. Any chance I can get to dig up some dirt on Hayden, I’m game. Especially because I want a point of reference that isn’t Roxy’s. I sit down next to Beth on the bleachers. “What do you mean?”

“Hayden doesn’t usually hang around . . . you know. The kind of women you bring to meet your family.”

Two uncomfortable ideas hit me at once. One of them is: Meeting his family? Is that what this is all about? Am I being evaluated? And the other: Was Roxy right after all? Hayden doesn’t date girls long enough to introduce them to anyone. He doesn’t bother with “nice girls” at all; he aims for the women he can pump and dump. So how long is he going to bother with me, in my frumpy T-shirt and worn tennis shoes and a streak of white sunscreen on my nose?

Beth’s casual comment has unleashed fears I didn’t even know I had. I make a mental note to mend fences with Roxy; she was only trying to look out for me after all.

I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been silent for too long. I lick my dry lips nervously, trying to figure out how to respond to Beth. “Well,” I finally say, “I mean, we’re just friends. I’m not . . .” Not interested, I swear. “I don’t need to be his type.”

“Oh,” Beth says, drawing out the sound into a long note of realization. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you were his date.”

Do I want to be his date? Am I that lonely and horny? What am I even doing here?