Rachel Hawthorne

“What about the backyard stuff?” he asked.
“What about it?”
“Is it okay if I use it, too?”
“Oh, sure. The equipment is in a metal shed in the back. Just help yourself. It’s not locked or anything. And if you want company, just let me know. I’d be happy to play with you.”
Did I just say that? I did not just say that. Like we were six years old and heading for a sandbox.
He was grinning again, like he thought it was funny or stupid or I was having a Tiffany moment.
“I didn’t mean play with you exactly,” I said. “I meant…you know, keep you company so you don’t feel awkward…you know, like I exercised with you.”
“I’ll be okay alone in the backyard.” He stepped off the treadmill. “I’m going to go shower.”
He waited a heartbeat, like he expected me to say I’d be happy to keep him company in the shower, too.
Fortunately, my brain finally kicked in, and I kept my mouth shut.
I watched him walk out of the room. I thought I’d known everything that would be involved in having a baseball player living with us for the summer.
I was discovering that I didn’t have a clue.”


Rachel Hawthorne, The Boyfriend League
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The Boyfriend League The Boyfriend League by Rachel Hawthorne
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