Contagious

“Just take a deep breath, okay? You're over-thinking it when it's not that hard,” Paul told Parker, his voice low as his hands covered hers.

Parker looked over her shoulder at him. “If I get another gutter ball, I'm going to cry, Paul,” she told him.

Paul smiled. “It's not the end of the world.”

“It is the end of the world!” she exclaimed. “You have eighty five points and I have thirty one.”

“I'm just a better bowler than you.”

“And that is depressing. You're beating me mercilessly, Paul, and you don't care. I'm a girl; I'm supposed to win,” she told him.

“What kind of misogynistic society is this?”

“The kind where you let the girl win to boost her self-esteem,” Parker said.

Paul paused. “Parker, you have three Grammy Awards, a multitude of VMAs and other awards with acronyms I don't know, and you were on the Most Beautiful People of 2008 list. You don't need a self-esteem boost,” he told her.

Parker blushed furiously under the dim lighting of the bowling alley. “Shut up,” she muttered. “That last one was a joke and you know it.”

“It was not.”

“Lies,” Parker said, pulling her elbow back before releasing the ball, sending it down the strip and knocking out seven pins. She smiled and jumped up and down slightly. “Heck yeah!” She turned around to face Paul and the smile fell from her face. “You okay?”

Paul waved a hand, still bent at the waist, a hand around his stomach. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Thanks for elbowing me there, Parks.”

She laughed slightly, unable to contain it, and walked over to him, hugging him. “I'm sorry, Poolie! I didn't mean to.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “You did it on purpose to hinder my sweet bowling skills.”

She nodded. “You're right. You caught me,” she mumbled, reaching for her ball as it was spit out the machine in front of her. She smiled at him over her shoulder before throwing the ball back down the lane. It felt like forever until the ball found its way down the track and colliding with the three pins that were left, declaring she had gotten a spare. She jumped up and down again. “Yes!”

Paul laughed. “We'll see who's laughing at the end of the game, Parker,” he said, reaching for his own ball. “Watch the master work.”

Parker rolled her eyes and took a couple steps back, arms crossed over her chest. “Show me how it's done, Poolie.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised, sending the ball down the lane and standing still. He didn't jump up and down or cheer when all ten pins were knocked down, he simply sent a smug smile to Parker.

“Cheater,” Parker muttered, clapping slowly. “We get it. You're amazing and wonderful.”

Paul laughed loudly. “Now you finally see it, Parker.”

She smiled. “After this game, do you wanna go get pizza or something?” she asked, reaching for her bowling ball.

“Loser buys?”

She pouted. “Mean.”

“You have more money than me anyway.”

She laughed before she heard her name echoing off the walls in the bowling alley. She nearly dropped her ball, head whipping around, looking for the commotion, and she saw a couple teenage girls running over to her, holding out a notebook, shouting over one another asking for her autograph. She looked back at Paul and mouthed and apology, handing him her ball to hold as she took the Sharpie from one of their hands.

“I'm Olivia and I'm your biggest fan, Parker!” one of them yelled, smiling.

Parker laughed, scribbling her name across the paper. “Thank you so much. It's always nice to meet a fan,” she told her.

“I'm Claudia,” the other one said, beaming, holding out another notebook. “We're sisters.”

“Can we get a picture with you for FaceBook?!” Olivia asked.

Parker's eyes widened slightly but she just laughed. “Yeah, sure, no problem,” she said, throwing her arms around each of their shoulders while Claudia snapped a picture quickly.

“You're the best!” Olivia said, hugging her tightly. “When are you going back on tour? And what are you doing in Boston?” she asked, words spilling from her lips quickly.

“Uh, I actually go to high school here,” she told them. “I'm finishing my senior year then we'll be back on the road by mid-June.”

“You go to high school in Boston?” Claudia asked.

“Yeah, this is my hometown,” she said, nodding.

“This is so cool!” Olivia gushed, practically jumping up and down again. “What school do you go to?”

“Liv, calm down,” Claudia said, eyes landing on Paul. “Are you on a date?” she asked quietly.

“A little, yeah. I mean, technically, yeah,” Parker said, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck as she looked at Paul, who suddenly found the bowling ball in his hands very interesting.

“Oh! We'll leave you alone then,” Olivia said, sending her a wink. “He's cute,” she stage whispered.

Parker felt herself flush slightly. “Thanks. I think.”

“Dude, he is fine,” Olivia repeated. “And so tall,” she muttered, giving him a once over.

Claudia elbowed her sister. “Thank you for the picture and autograph,” she said, smiling simply. “You are so lucky.”

Parker laughed. “Yeah, I have a really blessed life,” she agreed.

“She means because your boyfriend is super fine,” Olivia said.

She flushed again. “He's not technically my boyfriend. Not technically.”

“He wants to be,” Claudia said. “I can tell these things. Thank you again! We'll leave you alone now,” she said before grabbing her sister's hand and dragging her away.

Parker turned back to Paul and bit her lip. “Sorry about that.”

“Don't worry,” Paul said, smiling. “You love your fans, huh?”

“Without them, I'd be nowhere,” she said.

Paul took a couple steps closer to her. “They think I'm super fine,” he said, smiling, handing her the bowling ball.

Parker laughed, taking the ball from him. “Don't let it go to your head, Poolie.”

+

“How was your date?”

Parker jumped, falling back against her door as she turned on the light. Her eyes fell on Martin, who was leaning against the window, and she frowned. “What do you want?”

He shrugged. “How was your date?”

“Why don't you go ask Paul?”

“He wouldn't tell me,” Martin said. “Doesn't want to hurt my feelings because of our past.”

She crossed her arms. “Then what makes you think that I'll tell you?”

“Because you don't lie to me,” he said softly.

“Martin, I can't do this,” she whispered, running her hands through her hair before discarding her North Face fleece and tossing it on her bed.

He pushed his body away from the window and walked over to her, only a foot between them. “Did he open the door for you?”

“Stop.”

“Did he laugh at your bad jokes and let you order your own food?”

“Stop talking about Paul like that, Martin. He's your friend,” she said.

“I'm not saying anything bad about him, Parks,” he replied, his voice low and calm. “Did he do all those things for you?”

“Shut up.”

“Did he tell you he had a good time?”

“Martin, seriously—“

“Did he kiss you goodnight?” Martin asked, blue eyes pleading as he looked down at her.

Parker sighed. “Please drop it, Martin. You don't want to know the answers.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don't. You're just torturing yourself because you don't want me to date anyone,” Parker said, crossing her arms.

“I don't want you to date Paul,” Martin corrected.

Parker rolled her eyes. “Really? So if I went out with, let's just say Ross for lack of a better example, you'd be totally cool? You wouldn't be in here pestering me for details because you're jealous?”

Martin scoffed. “I am not jealous.”

“Yes, you are,” she said quietly. “And I don't care for it.”

“Do you care for Paul?”

“Stop torturing yourself, Martin.”

“What, we can't talk? That's what friends do, right?” Martin asked, reaching a hand up to touch her hair.

She took a step back. “We're not friends, Martin,” she said awkwardly.

His hand fell to his side. “We can't be friends?”

She looked down, sucking in a deep breath. “It would be too awkward. We have too much of a history to go from...where we were before my tour to now and just forget about all of that.”

“I'm not asking you to forget,” Martin said, taking a step closer to her, fingertips grazing her jaw.

“I can't do this either,” she said, ducking under his hand and walking to the other side of her room. “Don't touch me.”

“Parker—“

“You have a girlfriend, Martin,” she said. “Or did you forget? That means you cannot be sneaking into my room and touching me.”

Martin walked over to her again, his palms flat on the wall on each side. “Why not? You're not doing anything wrong, Parker, it's all me. You don't want to be my friend and you don't want to talk to me. So what do you want?”

“I don't know,” she whispered. “I just know that this isn't fair.”

“What's isn't?”

“It feels like nothing has changed when you're this close,” she admitted, her stomach a mess. She still refused to meet his eyes.

Martin smiled, slightly. “Maybe nothing has.”

“Except everything has, Martin,” Parker said, placing her hands flat on his chest and pushing him back a couple of steps. “You have a girlfriend. That means you can't...do that, okay?”

“Even if you want me to?”

“I don't want you do.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that?”

“Maybe both,” she admitted. “I can't want you to.”

“Parker—“

“No,” she said, her tone low and harsh. “We can't do this, Martin. You have a girlfriend. And I do think Paul is great. So just stop, okay? Stop with your mind games and your jealousy. Get over it because you moved on a while ago so you have no right to get mad at me for doing the same.”

Martin took a step back as if he had been slapped. “You think I've moved on?”

“It's hard to think otherwise when I see you all over Dallas.”

“Who's jealous now?”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Don't make this harder on both of us. We can...be civil near the guys. But we're not friends. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Stop, Martin! You're so persistent. You can't just accept things for how they are, can you?” she asked, frowning.

“Not when I know it isn't what either one of us want,” Martin said.

She paused and sighed, biting her lip and praying she wouldn't start crying while he was in front of her. “Because I can't just be your friend, Martin. That's not enough for me,” she admitted, her body betraying her as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Martin frowned and stepped forward, glad she wasn't pushing him away again. He wiped the tear away and kissed her cheek, his lips linger as he inhaled her scent. “I know,” he whispered. “Trust me, I know.”

“This is for the best,” she forced herself to say. It was the last thing she wanted, but she would never ask Martin to leave Dallas for her, especially not when she had spent three years trying to get over him.

“I—“ he trailed off, shaking his head. He took a step back and dug a slip of paper out of his pocket, tossing it onto the bed. “I wrote that. It's pretty self-explanatory,” he said before walking over to the window and opening it.

“I didn't kiss him,” Parker said, watching as Martin climbed out of the window.

Martin looked up, their eyes meeting, and she swore she saw relief etched all over his face. “Really?”

“I couldn't do it,” she told him.

Martin smiled. “I'll, uh. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded before looking down. She couldn't stand to see him leave again. She heard the window close and she waited a couple of minutes before walking over to her bed and unfolding the slip of paper. Martin's handwriting was just as messy, words were scribbled, some scratched out, some in lead and some in green pen. But it wasn't the integrity of the paper that startled her, it was the words themselves. Only after she read them did she let herself finally cry.

The first one is the worst one,
When it comes to a broken heart.

`Cause I would run through a thunderstorm just to kiss you.
I'm out here on my own.
Better now than I was before,
But I miss you, and I want you to know.

I can't sleep, it's hard to breathe,
And I still feel you next to me and I can see.

The first one is the worst one,
When it comes to a broken heart...