Page 36 of Playing the Backbeat

The conversation moves back into safer territory, away from me, my dating life, and my hottie roommate, whom I platonically torture with my fake cat.

Abby and Bec show me about a hundred pictures of the cats at New Hope, making their case for why I should just go ahead and commit to adopting one. That one girl sure is a cutie. She looks like a Stevie. But that would undercut my prank if I adopted a cat. Might have to sacrifice the joke for that adorable furry face.

When the girls and I wrap up for the night, I hug everyone goodbye and swear Dom to secrecy. He’s an eavesdropper. But the threats I left him with had his eyes practically popping out of his head as he frantically agreed to keep all book club secrets safely hidden from my roommate.

Before I start my drive, I spend a minute with my car idling in Ellie’s driveway, looking over my dating profile. The one Dylan has made for me.

I can’t fight my curiosity any longer.

The picture he used for my profile isn’t one I’ve seen before. I study it, realizing it’s a cropped photo, one he must have taken at Ellie and Dom’s vow renewal this past fall. I’m laughing and clearly overjoyed. We all were that day. Seeing Ellie and Domrecommit to each other, celebrating all that they’ve overcome and all that they share with each other and their son. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic seeing that?

I’m not some cynic. I believe in love. My parents, Morgan, Bec, Ellie—they’ve all shown me what’s possible when you find the right person. But the longer I’ve been single, unable to find anyone I want to share my life with, the easier it’s been to picture myself happily single and ready to mingle indefinitely. I’d rather be alone than settle for an asshat.

But reading my new, and admittedly improved, dating profile, I can’t help but think maybe I haven’t seen myself clearly at all. I pride myself on being overconfident. Bold and brazen. Unshakable and undeterred even when shit is hard. But Dylan didn’t frame me as this in-your-face, too-much-to-handle ball of chaos I picture myself to be. His answers make me seem strong, but approachable. Tough, but kind. Confident, but capable of vulnerability.

Is this how he sees me?

The hobbies? Spot on. Favorite foods, movies, music? He knows me. He sees more than I realized. Yet, his assessment has me questioning if I even know myself.

Why does that leave me feeling so unsteady?

By the time I get home, it’s late. The light under the microwave is on. And when I spot another can of Fancy Feast outside Dylan’s door, I smile. Then of course, I dump it out, messing with the can to make it seem like Hellcat had her way with the offering.

Humming happily to myself, I get ready for bed, definitelynotthinking of how my roommate will react in the morning.

Chapter fifteen

Dee

“Did you imagine your life would look like this when you were younger?”

Dylan looks up at me with a hint of surprise. He takes his time answering, his movements unhurried as he continues to chop away a bell pepper at the kitchen counter. He got home thirty minutes ago after teaching drum lessons all day. He insisted on making stir-fry tonight, my favorite, and my mouth is already watering at the aroma filling our apartment. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” I close my laptop—I can’t look at one more job description tonight—and fidget with the corner of the blanket wrapped around my legs. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever made plans at all. I used to tell my parents that I wanted to play basketball professionally.”

That has him pausing, putting down the knife, strong hands gripping the edge as he leans against the countertop, warm smile spreading over his face. “I would have loved to see it. What went wrong?”

I gesture to my body, rolling my eyes. “I’m short, Dylan. And as it turns out, I’m about as coordinated with a ball as a lion would be knitting.”

He bites his lips, fighting a grin now. But he can’t keep the playfulness out of his voice. “So, basketball was unfortunately justout of reach. What was next in the plan?”

I roll my eyes, but continue. “After my athletic dreams were turned to dust, I think it was an astronaut, firefighter, then maybe a marine biologist?” My stomach pulls tight with the memory.

“What?” Dylan asked, spine straightening and brows furrowing. “What’s that face for?”

I shrug, embarrassment washing over me. “I had all these dreams. All these ways I envisioned my life, but I only ever planned for success. I never thought about failing.”

“And you think getting laid off is failing? Dee, you know better than most that it’s not an uncommon experience. It’s not a reflection of you.”

He doesn’t get it. He’s not the one being told he’s not good enough. He’s not the one being analyzed and assessed and found lacking. He’s not the one being rejected day after day.

“It doesn’t feel like I just got laid off. It feels like I just dove off the high dive and bellyflopped and my skin wants to fall off. I don’t even know what I want to do next. I’ve applied to over eighty jobs.” I level him with a glare. “Eighty, Dylan.”

I know I’m qualified for these positions. Hell, I’m overqualified for some of them. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have been questioning my own abilities, but I don’t feel that same drive to climb to the top. I pushed myself for years at my last job. Taking on extra work, always trying to prove I could do it as well as any of the guys on my team, and trust me, I was outnumbered.

“I’ve even started applying to jobs outside of data analytics and still nothing,” I add. “I don’t know what’s next. I don’t have a plan. It feels like I’m not steering the ship right now.”

I drop my head to the side, leaning into the back cushion of the couch, letting it all finally spill out of me. All this false bravado. All this confidence I’ve been forcing to the surface, when really, I’m drowning in doubt.