“You’d be a great coach,” I said sincerely. “Keeping in mind I have no idea what constitutes a great coach seeing as I avoided participating in all organized sports like the plague, so my basis for comparison is basically bad sports movies. But I’d cast you as a coach…Wait, baseball or girls softball?”
“Girls.”
“Oh god, no. Bad idea. You’re going to break all their poor young hearts. The crushes—seriously at that age—they could be emotionally crippled for life.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth. “You might be exaggerating just a bit.”
“Nope.” I took another sip of my drink. “Not at all.”
“So then you think I’m crush-worthy do you?”
“That is the worst kind of fishing, Mark Barnes. Like you don’t know you’re totally, ridiculously attractive. You have to go and make me actually say it.”
“But I have no way of knowing what you find attractive.” He was still sitting casually but that light I’d seen in his eyes the other night was back. The intensity of that look made me swallow against the butterflies that had suddenly burst into life in my stomach.
“Back atcha,” I said as flippantly as I could manage.
Mark leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. I swallowed again. For some reason it was getting harder to swallow. And hotter. Definitely hotter. Maybe someone really had turned on the heater. Or I was coming down with the flu.
Or I was totally overwhelmed by Mark’s dark chocolate colored eyes.
“You. I find you very attractive.”
My first reaction was to tell him that he couldn’t possibly. That my hair was too straight and my chin too square and that he was basically one step away from a GQ model. Not even a big step, like a teeny tiny baby step. But luckily, something, my brain, or my mouth, or my heart, overrode that first instinct.
“Back atcha.” Except it wasn’t flippant this time. At all.
He smiled at me then. The force of it almost knocked me over. It was a good thing I was sitting already. “You have whipped cream on your nose.”
“Of course I do,” I replied with a mock grimace. “I find wearing dairy products is a great way to break the tension during these types of really intense conversations.”
His laugh, oh my gosh, if I could bottle that laugh I’d be a billionaire. Lonely women everywhere would hand over their life savings. But I’d be too stingy to ever sell it. I’d be a Mark laugh hoarder.
I laughed with him. ‘Cause there wasn’t anything else to do. I obviously had it bad. This level of bad couldn’t even be quantified.
“Are you going to let me take you to dinner?” he asked as he reached out with a napkin and wiped the whipped cream off my nose.
“Yes, I think I am.”
“
My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.”
The next morning
I floated out of my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. I’m pretty sure my feet didn’t actually touch the ground once.
Tori looked up at my from the table where she sat eating a bowl of cereal. “You seem unusually happy this morning.”
“Hmm? Oh do I?” I grabbed a bowl from the dishwasher and pirouetted over to the cupboard where I knew she’d hidden the Coco Puffs. “You know I’m gonna find these, why do you keep hiding them from me?”
“‘I want them to last more than a day?”
“Hurtful.” I spun my way back over to the fridge for milk.
“Are you humming?” she demanded.
“Maaaaaaybe.”
“Oh my good lord, singing
and
dancing. Tell me what is going on. Did you win the lottery?”
I giggled. “Kinda.” I sat across from her and dug into my cereal. “Mmm, chocolate for breakfast is such a good idea.”
“Would your current state of Disney princess level happiness have anything to do with not being home for dinner last night? What time did you get home anyway?”
I crunched through two bites before I answered. Messing with her was so much fun. “Late.”
“Oh really? This gets more and more interesting. Did you have a date last night?”
“Yup.” I paused for effect. Really I just wanted to see how far up on her forehead her eyebrows could get as she waited for me to elaborate. Surprisingly high. “With Mark.”
“Mark Barnes? As in the guy I tried to set you up with and you freaked out and said I was dead meat?”
“You set us up on a double blind date. It was trickery and I wasn’t prepared.”
“Ha! But I was right! You guys have chemistry.” Tori looked way too smug for her own good.
“Mmmhmm. Yes,
chemistry
.”
“Are you going to tell me how much chemistry? Inquiring minds want to know.”
She wished. “No, I am not.”
“That is so unfair." She huffed in mock frustration. "And I assume from the singing and dancing that you’re seeing him again.”
“Yup, he’s taking me to a baseball game tonight.”
Tori dropped her spoon. “A baseball game? As in a professional sporting event? You?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve been to them before.”
“In the last decade?”
“Well, no. But it should be fun.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to do at least, even if it’s not watching the game.” Tori waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.
“I’m shocked at you, Tori Mansfield. Shocked.” I shook my head as I took my now empty bowl over to the sink to rinse it out. “So, are you going to help me pick something to wear or what?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh babe, we should just go get something. I’ve already seen your closet. Pathetic.”
“Hey.” I wasn’t really offended, because she was right. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but I will wear whatever you tell me to wear.”
“The power is mine!” Tori cackled evilly as she dumped her bowl in the sink next to mine. “I promise not to abuse it. At least not too horribly.”
~
The baseball stadium was packed with people. I drove by it all the time and saw the full parking lots, but I never realized how many people could fit inside. The atmosphere was electric, and we had really great seats. Or at least that’s what Tori told me when I texted her and Charlie a picture of our view of the field while Mark was off getting us drinks and nachos.
Also, thanks to Tori’s shopping efforts I didn’t look entirely out of place. She’d made me buy a red v-neck t-shirt, assuring me I’d blend in. She was right, the stands were overflowing with red, broken up by the occasional white jersey. The jeans she’d picked out were a little bit tighter than I normally would have bought, but they emphasized my long legs. I was already aware of the hotness differential between me and Mark and losing the ability to breathe normally seemed a small price to pay to help close the gap.
“So what position did you play?” I asked once Mark had returned with our snacks.
“Outfield. Usually right field.”
I looked up at the player currently standing in right field—luckily I knew where to look because I’d asked Tori while we were shopping for a quick update on the general rules of baseball.
“No, it’s not like stage left and right.” She’d doubled over laughing.
“Shut up.” I’d smacked her on the arm.
“You poor thing. If you date him for more than a week I’ll buy you a book. You’ll be an expert in no time.”
“Your confidence in this possible relationship is underwhelming,” I’d replied acidly.
“Hey, I’ll invest the fifteen bucks in
Baseball for Dummies
, all I’m asking for is a commitment of a week. I’m a good friend and you know it.”
I squinted out at the player in right field. He was not unattractive. Seriously, who knew there were so many hot guys in baseball? I’ve obviously been missing out. I attempted, unsuccessfully, not to imagine Mark wearing baseball pants. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know him in his baseball playing days. My heart wouldn’t have been able to handle all the excitement.
Not that he wasn’t looking ridiculously attractive in his jeans and t-shirt. The man did things for t-shirts. I averted my eyes from his arm as he offered me the nachos, choosing to stare at the gooey chips instead. Hopefully if I accidentally drooled he’d just think I really liked nachos.
“Do you miss it?” I asked as I selected a chip and concentrated on maneuvering into my mouth without getting any cheese on my new shirt.
“Sometimes. It’s fun being part of a team.”
“Is it? I always hate group projects at school, but I guess that’s not really the same thing?”
Mark laughed. “Poor Kels, do you work for everyone else’s A?”
“Yes, yes I do.” I grinned up at him, probably looking like a total fool. The fact that he had just used my nickname had sent me soaring into the stratosphere. “You know I know nothing about baseball, right? I’m counting on you to tell me when to cheer.”
“I know, but I’ll bet you’ll pick it up pretty fast. Fans and sportswriters can get really into the stats—there’s a statistic for everything in baseball—but it’s a pretty straightforward game.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Here’s a fun fact for you. Did you know your Jane Austen was the first author to ever mention baseball?”
I looked up in surprise. “I did not. Oh! Catherine Moreland in
Northanger Abbey
? She plays baseball—is that really the first reference to it? I’m kind of impressed that you know that.”
“Yeah, might be the only Austen fact you’ll ever get out of me, so enjoy it while you can.”
I looked up at him through my lashes. “Oh, I am enjoying it. Trust me.”
And I enjoyed the game. Mark was right that it was easy to follow. Being part of a huge crowd cheering for the home team gave me a weird sense of euphoria. As did Mark holding my hand through the entire ninth inning.
I enjoyed it even more when Mark walked me up to my apartment door when he dropped me off.
Then he kissed me.
I’d always dated guys who were taller than me. Not that Mark wasn’t, he had a good two inches on me, but I didn’t have to tilt my head all that far back to kiss him. When I leaned into him I could feel the entire length of his body against mine. We fit together in a surprisingly easy and comfortable way. Like puzzle pieces. Really, hot, steamy, knee-wobbling, insides-melting puzzle pieces.
I tried not to cry when he ended the kiss. Or beg him to keep kissing me. Or throw myself bodily at him.
“Goodnight, Kelsey.” Mark tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and then leaned back in to kiss me on the nose. “Sweet dreams.”
“Night,” I whispered back, somehow managing to get my key into the lock as he walked down the apartment steps then turned back again to wave. I waved back and then floated inside.
~
I was three dates into my fledgling relationship with Mark and I had yet to say anything totally stupid or slip into weird, awkward Kelsey mode. Maybe I was starting to overcome my own natural tendencies. Of course, even thinking such a heretical thought set me up for total disaster.
I sat across the table from Mark at the Italian restaurant by the theater discussing the book that the movie we’d just seen was based off of. I can’t remember the last time I went to a movie adaptation with a guy who’d actually read the book. Probably never.
“The book was better. They did a decent job with it, but it was missing that underlying tension the book has,” Mark said as he looked at the menu. I was supposed to be looking at my menu too, but I was too busy staring his mouth as he talked about the novel.
“The book is always better. Always,” I agreed absently. “It’s amazing how much better
Pride and Prejudice
is than any of its adaptations. Like, I thought they’d done an okay job with casting, but when you’re actually
there
you realize they didn’t even get close.”
“Huh?”
“Hmm, what?” I realized I was still staring at his mouth and refocused with a start. “Sorry, what?”
“What do you mean, ‘when you’re there?’”
There was a long silence. I could almost hear my brain whirring as I searched frantically for a way to explain what I’d just said. I wonder if Mark could hear it too.
“Um…” That’s when I made the stupidest decision. Ever. In the history of Kelsey. And that’s saying a lot. “Well, I had an interesting experience recently.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You know how
Pride and Prejudice
is basically my favorite book of all time?”
Mark nodded. So far, so good.
“Well, and this is going to sound a bit out there,” way to understate, Kels, “but um, I’ve kind of managed to get into
Pride and Prejudice
.”
Mark’s forehead creased in confusion. “What do you mean into? Aren’t you already into it?”
“No, well yes, but I mean—and again, I know this sounds unbelievable, but it’s the honest truth—I have jumped into
Pride and Prejudice
, like into the characters—and, like,
lived
in it.”
There was a long pause.
“Is this a joke?”
“Um, no. I’m being completely serious. This has happened to me. Three times actually, three different characters. It was an accident the first time, but the last two times I jumped in on purpose.”
“You’re saying you’ve lived inside a novel? A piece of fiction?”
“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy—”
“Fair dinkum.”
I blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I’m agreeing with you. You’re crazy.”
“I’m not saying I’m crazy! I’m saying that I know it
sounds
crazy. That doesn’t make it any less true!”
There was another long pause. I stared miserably at the tablecloth, not even able to look up at him. I didn’t want to see the look on his face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you,” I muttered.
I heard him puff out a breath. “I don’t know what to say, Kelsey. You’ve had some hard times recently, with your break up—”
“That was months ago. I’m not emotionally fragile and I’m not retreating into some imaginary world if that’s what you’re getting at. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just that I like you and it feels weird to keep that big of a secret.” I finally glanced back up. Mark didn’t look upset or angry, he looked concerned. The kind of concerned that you look when someone is standing on the edge of a bridge and threatening to jump. He really did think I was insane. I felt tears prick behind my eyes. This was a spectacularly bad idea.
“So you really think you’re able to be other people? Fictional people?”
“I don’t think it, I
know
it. I’ve been three different characters.”
“Kelsey,” he leaned forward and put his hand over mine where it rested on the table. “That is just not physically possible. Have you thought about…talking to someone…about this?”
I laughed, bitterly. “Like a psychiatrist or something? I’m not crazy. I hoped you’d understand...I don’t even know why I thought you might.”
The frustration finally broke through Mark’s calm demeanor. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve obviously got a serious problem. I didn’t realize how close to the truth I was when I asked if you even knew who you were.”
I looked back down at the tablecloth, trying to compose myself. His bringing up the conversation outside McKinney’s pub had caused a little crack in my already tender heart.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.” I said numbly, pushing my chair away from the table.
“Kelsey, don’t…wait a second.” He started to stand up, but I’d already turned and fled the restaurant.
By the time I got home I’d managed to work myself from heartbroken into a rage. Yes, I realize the whole thing made me sound Cuckoo for Coco Puffs, but what was I supposed to do? Go through my life lying by omission to the people that mattered to me? And how dare he go back to the not knowing who I am crap? I know who I am. Just because I occasionally spend a bit of time as characters in my favorite novel didn’t mean I was a weaker person. In fact, I’d just proven that by finally writing myself out of Caroline. I
did
know who I was.
I sat fuming in my room, working myself further into a state of righteous indignation. A completely undeserved indignation—if I’d been Mark and he’d told me something similar I’d probably have snuck into the bathroom and texted Tori to come rescue me—but somewhere between the restaurant and home I’d lost all perspective.
Was I supposed to just never tell Mark? Or should I have waited longer? What’s the appropriate number of dates before you tell someone that you can jump into a novel? I’m sure there’s an appropriate number before you discuss past relationships, future plans for kids and marriage. But novel-jumping is not something that most relationship advice columns ever cover.
We’d had two great dates, not counting our disastrous blind date—2.5 if you included the Caffeination Station—and we were well on our way to a decent third date with the movie and then dinner. That’s like regular couple type stuff. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, pretended to be totally normal, and kept
Pride and Prejudice
up on my top shelf where it belongs. But it’s kind of a big thing not to share. I mean, right? Could Lois Lane and Clark Kent ever really have a relationship if Lois has no idea that Clark is Superman? Not that I’m comparing myself to Superman. Well, maybe a little bit.