Imaginary Lines (22 page)

And that I was scared. That I didn’t know how to navigate these waters. I mutely shook my head and frowned at the wall.

“Maybe I haven’t told you this.” His voice was light but his gaze was steady. “But I’m going to wait for you. As long as it takes. Even if it means waiting until you don’t report on my team anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

My gaze swiveled toward him. “And why would you do that?”

Like lightning, he was in front of me, and he’d drawn me up right before him. His hands cupped my head, his fingers spearing through my hair as his gaze raked mine. “Why do you think? You think this just happened? That we just found ourselves lying on your bed by a series of accidents? Tamar, I’ve been trying to get your attention since you showed up here. I
like
you. I want you. And I’m going to wait until you realize that I’m not going anywhere.”

He made me feel like a storm had swept through me. My voice came out shaky. “You’re making it really hard for me to consider anyone else viable.”

He smiled. “I’m trying to make it impossible.”

I hesitated. My hand found his even though my gaze did not. His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady. I wanted desperately to believe them, that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Abraham...I like you.”

The pause was pregnant with a dozen years of emotion. “I know.”

I swallowed. The heaviness, the tenseness that had followed me the past few weeks as I tried to keep my emotions hemmed in slowly drained away. “Are you going to break my heart?”

“No.”

A strangled laugh broke out of me. “Do you promise?”

“Tamar. Look at me.”

I did, almost reluctantly. He studied me. “What are you afraid of?”

His expression, so earnest, so kind, seared through me. He regarded me with genuine curiosity, with the desire to calm me.

As I tried to formulate my response, the words slowly percolating through my heart and mind to the tip of my tongue, I let my gaze stay on his face. Abraham Krasner. I’d spent more time looking at him than my own reflection. He’d made an indelible mark on my soul, in the shape of his hand on mine, his eyes, his lips. I missed him when he was gone, even in these past years when the ache had become so routine it was nothing more than background noise. He was like a phantom limb. A phantom soul mate.

I took his hand and flipped it over between mine, my thumbs tracing the life and heart lines engraved across his palm. “I am afraid that loving you is like riding a bike. That if I let myself remember how to do it, I’ll fall so hard and fast that I’ll never be able to recover.”

He kissed me hard and swift, like a branding. “I don’t want you to be able to recover.”

I pulled slightly away, though our breath still mingled in the night air. “That’s greedy, Abraham Krasner.”

He smiled. “I’m only greedy because I want all of you, forever.”

“I’m afraid you won’t mean that in two weeks. A month. A year.”

He smiled and caressed my cheek, and the emotion in his eyes was so strong that it astounded me. “Tamar—I will. Trust me. I will.”

He spoke with such certainty. I swallowed. “Okay. But Abe—we have to take this at my speed. I can’t just throw myself into this, madly, completely.”

He grinned with cocky confidence. “You’re already into this madly, completely. I’m the only one for you.”

I gently pushed his chest. “
I’m
the one in charge. I dictate how far, how fast. You follow my lead.”

He leaned back slowly onto his elbows and looked up at me, his face filled with lazy pleasure. “I’m more than happy to follow your lead.”

A frisson of excited attraction sizzled through me. I edged a little closer and placed one hand on his shoulder and trailed it down to land just below his sleeve. My fingers wrapped hesitantly around his biceps, which felt like warm steel beneath my hand. “Is that so?”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “It’s so.”

I licked my lips, more than a little nervous. “Okay, then. Okay.” I found some focus. “Then just so you know, I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

He looked skeptically amused. “No?”

I shook my head. “I’m not. Okay?”

“Okay.” He let my legs slide down as he kissed his way down my neck, over the hollow part of my collarbone. “You’re sure?”

“
Yes
.” I tried to push him back. Damn, this was hard.

“Okay,” he said, actually using his mouth to talk, for once. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

I eyed him narrowly. “Because I’m not going to.”

“Okay.” He took my face in his hands. One kiss. Gentle. “That’s okay.” And then he smiled. “But I’m allowed to try to change your mind, right?”

I narrowed my eyes warily. “I don’t know. How are you going to try?”

He answered with a kiss, and I melted into his arms.

He didn’t change my mind that night.

But he made an awfully persuasive argument.

In the morning he woke up early and shrugged on his shirt. He was leaving soon for Boston and still had to stop by his apartment, whereas I planned to stay in bed all day. His eyes darkened as he watched me watch him get dressed from between the sheets. “We’re still on for the wedding, right?”

The
what?
My mouth fell open.

He looked amused. “You didn’t forget?”

I kept staring.

“We’re getting married.”

I had no words.

He started laughing. “You
did
forget. Malcolm’s wedding? It’s next week.”

I placed my hand to my chest. “Right. Right, you invited me to that. Oh my God, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. “If we were getting married, you wouldn’t forget it.”

Why did he have to say things like that? Was he trying to keep my emotions from reaching any sort of equilibrium?

I walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye.

And then I fell back into bed and replayed every part of the night.

Chapter Sixteen

On Tuesday night, we went on a date. I met him at one of the hole-in-the-wall kebab places off Broadway. I watched in slight astonishment at the amount of food he put away, and concentrated on stealing his fries without him noticing.

He noticed, but let me get away with it. “Guess what we’re doing tonight.”

I looked down at my food. “Eating?”

“I got us tickets to
Wicked.
”

My elbows banged on the table. “No way! How’d you do that?”

“Well, there’s this thing called money...”

I waved my food at him. “I mean, it’s short notice.”

He shrugged. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Um. I want to. Trust me. I love
Wicked.
”

He gave me a look to convey that he knew. Which I suppose he did, given that I’d made our parents play it on many a drive to vacations. I tilted my head. “What would you have done if I’d fallen out of love with it in the past four years? That would be problematic.”

He grinned. “Nah, I’d just ask someone else to come with me.”

“Oh, real nice.” I shook my head, and then pulled out my phone and tried to look really casual. “So I was looking some stuff up online.”

He barely glanced at me. “You’re terrible at acting casual.”

I gave up on it and leaned forward, pinning Abe with my stare. “There’re all sorts of online courses you can do to finish your degree—”

He stilled. “Does it matter to you that I don’t have it?”

I stopped, confused. “Um, Abe, let’s be clear. You’re a multimillionaire celebrity. You’re talented, you’re successful, and you’re a role model. The only thing that matters to me in what you do with your life is that you’re happy.”

A smile broke across his face, much quieter than most of his grins. “I’m happy.”

I studied him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head if I tell you you’re part of the reason.” He scooted closer to me and looked at my cell. “All right, let’s see these courses.”

The musical was wonderful. We had seats in the center of the orchestra, which was perfect, and the show was perfect, and really, everything was perfect. Even the temperature that night as we left was perfect: cold, but not quite icy, and my coat and scarf were enough to keep out the chill. The moon glowed bright above us, cutting through the drifting clouds. A gentle wind rustled the crumpled leaves lining the sidewalks.

We walked the eight blocks or so up to the park, and then scrambled up the outcroppings of giant ancient bedrock in the southwest corner, and perched ourselves on the top, with a view of the baseball diamonds. I smiled up at him. “You know what? I’ve decided it’s a good thing we’re dating.”

Abe placed his hand over his heart. “Thank God. I was worried.”

“No, I’m serious. Because otherwise I probably would have started dating the guy with argyle socks, and we wouldn’t have had anything to talk about.”

He scoffed. “I already have you. You can’t make me jealous.”

“Oh, is that how it works? I hadn’t realized.”

“Mm-hm.” He kissed me, his hands sliding around my waist. They slipped under my shirt, hot on my skin. His entire body was warm, like a furnace that I eagerly craned toward. I kissed him back, a matching fire fueling in my belly.

“Why don’t you come back to my place tonight?”

I shook my head. “It’s a Tuesday night. I should already be asleep.”

“We could sleep.” He pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot below my ear.

I let out a gasp and then a laugh. “Of course we could.”

His mouth traced a path down to the base of my neck, and then to my lips. “Or not.”

I moaned and gave myself over to the kiss, until a moment later I banged my elbow as I fell back on the rock schist. Laughing, I pushed myself upright. “Okay. I really should head home. It’s too cold to do this outside.”

Abe walked me to my subway stop. He looked down at me. The street lamp behind me picked out the warm honey-colored strands of his hair. He looked haloed in the light. “I’ll see you Friday then.”

I kissed him. “See you then.”

* * *

The Leopards’ bye week fell in Week 11 of the regular season. Most of the team was sticking around the city for Malcolm and Briana’s wedding, so the team also threw an extra party on Friday as a “thank you” to the media. The team bought out the VIP section of Cirque d’Etoiles new act. All fifty-three players, several dozen staff, plus ones and selected supported media attended. We weren’t supposed to report on anything, Carlos assured me—we were just being wooed.

“To do what?” I’d asked as I’d intently researched what kind of food the caterer usually offered.

“To make them glow.”

I came in wearing my favorite red dress, the one that flared at the hip and swooped under my collarbone. The guys whistled and called me fancy. I rolled my eyes and pretended I wasn’t embarrassed by the attention.

“Got a date tonight?” Tendakai asked.

“She can’t have a date,” Jin drawled. “We’re going to Cirque d’Etoiles.”

I shrugged in what I hoped seemed halfway mysterious.

Carlos leaned toward Jin. “But you know who will be there?”

They stared at each and then swiveled toward me. Mduduzi looked betrayed. “I thought nothing was going on!”

“Um.” I tucked a curl behind my ear. “Well. Nothing is going on between any reporters and players.”

Jin cocked his head. “You’re prevaricating.”

I cleared my throat. “But it is possible, possibly, that something’s going on between two old friends. Okay, great, let’s talk about something else. Wow! November in New York! Pretty cold, huh?”

They all stared at me.

I coughed slightly. “Good talk, guys. I gotta go...wash my hands.”

“Hey.” Carlos stepped into my path as I tried to leave. “Give us something else to go on. Is this good?”

Oh boy, now I knew what cornered animals felt like. “Good?”

Mduduzi nodded. “Is it weird, or are you happy?”

For a drawn moment I stood there, and then a smile spread out, so wide my cheeks hurt. “Oh, trust me. I am
very
happy.”

That evening at the dark and lush venue, we bypassed the normal lines and walked straight for the VIP entrance, roped off by a velvet strand. A young woman who looked almost fancier than we did—her hair certainly seemed important, at least in height and gloss—checked us in and unhooked the rope.

I’d never been in the VIP section of anything before.

Black and blue lights flooded the large sub-basement, casting dark shadows throughout the room. Along the walls photographs of different acts hung: women dangling from aerial hoops and flying down Spanish ribbons, men leaping and flipping in fantastical costumes and across elaborate sets.

We checked in and were handed lanyards with passes. None of us were reporting tonight, so we headed directly to the bar. A bored-looking bartender poured us half-filled glasses of wine, which we took with slightly too much enthusiasm before heading over to the buffet.

Sweet cheese and fig jam wrapped in baskets of filo dough. Asparagus with Parmesan and minced garlic. Miniature burgers that could be held between two fingers. I tried not to salivate, but also noticed that I wasn’t the only one piling my plate high. Almost all the press seemed to have converged on the buffet.

We took our plates and headed off to the side of the room, talking idly to each other and several of the other reporters we were on casual good terms with. I kept scanning the room for Abe, but couldn’t find him.

“Hey!”

At the indisputable sound of a football player’s greeting, I turned with a wide grin, hoping to find Abe among them. Instead, it was a group of the other, younger guys. Dylan and Keith and Jensen and TJ. If men were masonry, these would be ashlar.

Jensen grinned at me, all cocky daredevil. “You clean up good.”

“What about the rest of us?” Jin drawled.

We moved slightly so the four players joined our group. My hand tightened around my glass and my nerves ramped up. I half-felt like we should all start snapping our fingers at any second.

Everyone knew each other by sight, even if the Leopards didn’t all know my friends’ names. Dylan nodded at all of us. “You guys all at
Sports Today
?”