Lars nods as he sips his coffee. “I think that covers it. Now, we need a game plan, but you need to determine if you’re willing to be a real boyfriend and not one of those full of shit dudes that only gets the girl because he doesn’t want to see her with anyone else.”
“Idon’twant to see her with anyone else,” I tell him.
“I could see that, but she told you what she wanted. Are you willing to eventually marry her and give her kids? No more pussy prowling at the bar. Are you focused on being the man she needs, or are you trying to keep her around because your dick likes her?”
“More than my dick cares about her, Lars—which is why I stepped aside. She stopped this. I’m aware I can go over there right now and get her naked. She loves fucking me too much to say ‘no’ this early out. She said it was time for her to find her ‘forever man’ which means I wasn’t even in consideration for the part.”
“It means she knows you’ve moonlighted as a fuck toy the majority of the time she’s known you. If that part of you has changed,youneed to let her know before it’s too late.”
There’s more than theory in his tone. I’ve considered him jaded before, but maybe it’s something else.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Lars is wearing the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on him.
“Trust me. You don’t want to talk around feeling like the other part of your soul is missing. If Bree is the girl for you, pull your head out of your ass, and go make it happen.”
* * *
Jason
Lars’s lecture spurred me into action. Deep down, I’ve known Bree was more than fuck buddy material from the moment she appeared on my doorstep. Once he left, I groomed myself and rushed next door. I’m nervous but excited. If we’re on the same page, we can be together without worrying about the rules of an expired contract, and I don’t have to fear catching her kiss another man ever again.
“Hi, Jason,” the surprise in her voice is evident. “I was just about to call you to arrange the game.”
I shrug and follow her inside. “Well, I’m here now.”
She nods and pulls up her calendar, while I look for a sign of her missing me.
“How’s Sunday’s game? Not this weekend, but next week,” she clarifies with a smile.
Damn, I miss her.
“Bree…” I begin then notice the ridiculous number of boxes lined up in her living room. “Are you moving?”
Her cheeks tint as she looks around. “Yes. It appears I am.”
The fear that she’s running from me ceases my heart.
“Why?” I choke out.
“Duty calls,” her breezy response confirms. I’m hiding the fact that my throat is closing. Bree hands me a letter.
“UCLA offered you a job?” I do my best to inject excitement into my voice. I pull her into a hug; I want to be happy for her but part of me just needs to touch her. “We should celebrate.”
“Good news is Uncle Lincoln bought the townhouse when I moved in so you don’t have to worry about neighbors anymore.” She pauses for a moment then looks up at me. “What were you about to say?”
“When?” I stall.
“Before you saw the boxes.”
“Oh, right. I was going to say, I fully expect you to wear football gear on Sunday. I don’t need you jinxing us in the playoffs. Congratulations again, I know how much you wanted this opportunity.” I cup her face and look her in the eyes; I mean the next part. “I’m proud of you.”
I leave her apartment one step above morose. I can’t tell her how I feel. It’ll put her in a tough position if she feels the same way. This job is what she wants, and I’d be selfish to stand in the way of her need to understand what happened to her parents. Allowing her to leave is the mature thing to do.
Why does it hurt so much?
20
