“He wouldn’t have seen it coming. I’m small but speedy. And I got good aim. I’ve been practicing my Bruce Lee one-inch punch.”
Another chuckle escapes. “Oh, you have? Remind me not to piss you off.”
God. I miss her.
“August,” she sounds reproachful. “I would never hit you.”
“No?”
“No, my violence is reserved for bullies.” She pauses a beat, and her voice turns sly. “And we both know you’re far too sweet.”
This girl. She’s pure endorphins to my system. Before now, only football accomplished that. And yet, this high I feel with her is different. At the end of the day, football is only a game. One day I won’t be able to play. But Penelope?
I need her.
“Now, Penelope,” I chide, loving our game, “I thought we discussed this whole ‘calling me sweet’ thing.”
Only then does it occur to me that last time we “discussed” this topic, it ended up with Pen on her back and me being seconds away from claiming her soft mouth. And she’d balked.
Hell.
I can’t do this anymore. Not with Pen. Eventually, she’ll pick up on my duplicity. I might lose her. Either way I flip it, I might lose her. The thought has my blood running cold.
This is where I tell her the truth: that I’d like to renegotiate. That I want her. Just her. No game day kisses, unless they’re real. I want the real.
“Pen—” In the background comes the sound of a woman laughing. I pause, recognizing the voice. “You’re still with Monica?”
“We’re going to get dinner. It’s early here.”
Which means I can’t talk to her about this now.
“West Coast. Right. I can’t remember where I am half the time.”
Sympathy laces her voice. “Get some sleep.”
Not likely.
Twenty-Four
August
“And you, what, just hung up?” March’s disappointment comes through loud and clear.
“Yes,” I grit out, doing a set of quick push-ups. My phone rests on the weight bench at my side. It’s bad enough having this conversation. I might as well be active lest I bust out of my own skin.
“Sigh.”
“You don’t say ‘sigh,’” I tell him, grunting through another round. “You just sigh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Doesn’t have the same impact over the phone. And I need my sigh to be impactful, bonehead.”
“I don’t know why I keep calling you.”
“You desperately need my help. Obviously.”
He’s not wrong. Are my feelings for her that transparent? And if so, how does Pen not see it? Or does she and it makes her uncomfortable?
Whatever the case, I can’t go on interacting with her as I have with this agreement hanging between us. It isn’t fair to either of us. I need to get my head in the game and stop fucking around. It’s always been my way—before her.
