Penalty Kicks (Game of Two Halves 1)

Penalty Kicks (A Game of Two Halves 1)
D. S. Dehel
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Copyright ©2021 D. S. Dehel

Men. What is with them having to be the boss all the time? I mean, seriously, Doc thought it was great I knew about Manho. Why couldn’t Zane do as much? Why? Because he’s a dick. And where am I going?

She walked down a hallway so quiet it unnerved her. She had to be in the wrong place, but no, up ahead shone the international symbol for a women’s bathroom. She must have wandered to an off-the-track bathroom.

By the time she washed her hands and repaired her lipstick, India had a plan. She would take her time returning to the ballroom. Instead, she’d check out the auction, and then she would go find Zane, plead fatigue and a headache from the red wine, and ask to be taken home.

India tossed the paper towel into the trash and strode out the door. These heels really did boost her confidence. Nolan looked gobsmacked at her aplomb during the hearing. It wasn’t really aplomb, though. She’d been admiring her pretty new shoes. The judge blah blah’d on about things they had already decided and signed their names to in the stacks of paperwork. The divorce had taken almost eighteen months because of the house and the reams of forms that had to be filled out, not because of any animosity on their part. Yet the judge admonished them to be nice to each other.

Whatever.

She laughed at her use of such a flippant term, even if only internally. She felt free. She felt like herself for the first time in ages, though she wasn’t exactly sure who she was. It didn’t matter. She had the rest of her life to figure it out.

The twinkle of lights caught her eye -- not Christmas lights, but city lights. The hotel’s ballroom had been partitioned off on the far side, squashing everyone into a smaller space, making attendance look higher, but it also created a sanctuary of the unused portion. She stuck her head around the edge of the paper divider, and seeing no one, crossed the space to the wall of windows. This side of the city abutted a large park, one full of trees, grassy playing fields, several lakes, and an outdoor concert venue. Though lights dotted the open area, the vast majority lay dark, swallowing the bright buzz of the city. During the day, it would fill with runners and playing children. Tonight, it sat mysterious and brooding.

She walked right up to the glass and put her forehead against it, looking down the many floors at the cars rushing by, enjoying the sensation of floating above it all.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

India jumped and smacked her head against the glass. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She searched for the source of the voice. In the corner, where glass met wall, leaned a man, arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.

“I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.” She rubbed her forehead.

He came to where she stood, and though the light was still minimal, she could now see his purple-blue suit. His pale skin accentuated by dark brown hair made her think of a French schoolboy.

“I’m hiding from the party.” Not a French schoolboy. A British one, judging by his accent. And now that he stood closer, she could see stubble, so he was older than he appeared at a distance.

“I’m hiding from my date.” She turned back to the window, embarrassed by her bluntness.

He gave a low chuckle. “This is a good place to hide then.” He faced the window too. “What were you doing when I startled you? Looking for your car?”

“I don’t have a car. I was just looking, but…” She felt foolish for saying it, but his open expression made her go on. “The way I was standing made me feel as if I was floating.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you do it?” He moved so they were standing shoulder to shoulder, almost -- but not quite -- touching.

“Well, stand with your toes a little bit away from the glass because you don’t want them to block your view, and lean so your forehead is against the glass holding you up.” She demonstrated.

He was good at following directions, so after a moment, he gasped. “This is amazing.”

India laughed at the joy in his voice. “Yeah, it is.” She tried to focus on the tiny people below and not the handsome giant next to her, but her eyes kept sliding to his profile. Gorgeous face. Stacked body.

“I’m Matt.” He glanced at her sideways, and her heart did a strange thing. It skipped a beat.

“I’m India.” She hoped she sounded less gobsmacked than she felt.

“Nice to meet you, India.” He went back to staring at the sidewalk.

“Nice to meet you, Matt.”

They stood in silence for a while.

“Why are you avoiding your date?” This time he didn’t look at her.

“Why are you avoiding the party?” She stared at him unabashedly. Well, as unabashedly as one can sideways. His faint stubble added to rather than detracted from his looks.

His laugh held a warmth that made her think of fireplaces and cozy sweaters. “Good question.” He paused, biting his lip. “I’m just not good with people.”

His deprecation sounded genuine, not a flirtatious ploy. “You appear to have manners. At least, you haven’t bitten me yet.”

Another laugh, this coupled with a glance through his lashes that made her heart stutter. “Give me time. I might yet.”