I pick up the toy, holding it in the palm of my hand. When Parker showed up at my door earlier, I’d panicked. I’d been trying to cram the last of my stuff into an overnight bag for the Indiana trip and he was the last person I expected to see before departure, but the fact that he’d bought me a gift was even more surprising.
Is that something friends with benefits do?
Am I supposed to get him something now?
No. That would probably be weird.
Then again, what’s a pair of handcuffs between friends?
Goosebumps pebble my skin at the thought of restraining my big, sexy FWB. Of seeing sweat bead along his brow and watching as his taut, sinewy muscles strain for release beneath me. He’d be completely at my mercy, the same way I’m at his when he’s—
My phone pings with an incoming text, and I drop the vibrator on the bed, scrambling to see who the message is from.
Please don’t be Parker cancelling.
With my luck, his roommate is probably in for the night.
The guys are supposed to rest up before a game, but it’s inevitable that some of them find their way down to the bar for a beer. Something I learned during my first away game when I nearly got caught sneaking down to the lobby for a bottle of water in my pajamas.
Mom: You’ll never believe what just happened!
The message is on a group chat with my dad and me. Before I can guess at the big news, another message pops up, which is so on brand I can’t help but smile.
Mamá: Gabby’s been invited to the National Team training camp in January!
My chest tightens as I re-read the message, pride and disappointment wrapping themselves around my heart like a pair of gymnastics grips. I’m thrilled for my baby sister, but I can’t deny there’s a tinge of disappointment as well. Disappointment she still has a shot of reaching goals I never will. Of realizing a dream that slipped through my grasp and making our parents proud.
It’s a bittersweet feeling.
One that comes with a crap ton of guilt.
Me: That’s amazing! She must be freaking out.
That’s one explanation for why she didn’t tell me herself.
Papá: We’re so proud of her. This could be her big break! First the National Team, then the Olympics!
And there it is… Like I need a reminder Gabby is the shining star of the family.
Mamá: Make sure you send your congratulations.
I will—of course I will—but I’m sure she’s getting plenty of props at the gym.
Papá: We’re proud of both of you, corazón de melón.
Nice save, Dad. Throwing in my childhood nickname—melon heart—is also a nice touch.
Mamá: The camp is the third week of January, so we’ll have to miss the Rutgers meet, but I told Gabby you’d understand.
Oh, I understand. Gabby’s sport comes first—like always.
Way to be a jealous pendejo, Cruz.
Frustration claws at the back of my throat. I hate feeling this way. Hate feeling this messed up combination of love and jealousy. Just once, it would be nice if my parents putmefirst.
Amor y celos, hermanos gemelos.
How many times have I heard my abuela say love and jealousy are twin siblings? Too many to count. But I can’t think about that right now, so I tap out a quick reply.
