Liam Fucking Blake. Do a hundred push-ups right now, you pervert.
I roll off the couch and yank on my t-shirt, the cotton clinging to skin still damp with sweat. I drop to the floor and grind out a hundred push-ups, anything to burn off this energy sparking through my body.
Then, a hundred sit-ups.
Then, a hundred squats.
My muscles scream, and I think about doing burpees to punish myself. But it’s barely 5 a.m., and the last thing I want to do is wake the neighbors.
Or worse—wake Sophie.
She looked like she needed sleep last night. When she finally turned on the light, she was beautiful, but I could seethe red rimming of tears in her eyes. Showing up at your brother’s apartment in the middle of the night rarely meant someone was in a good place.
I walk into the kitchen, wiping the sweat off my brow with the hem of my t-shirt. My head is pounding with day five of a hangover, and my muscles are shaking after my little torture session.
I fill a glass at the sink and down the whole thing. Then I take the Advil bottle out of the cabinet and shake two into my hand, refilling the glass.
“Can I have a couple of those, too?” Sophie asks, emerging from Cal’s bedroom, startling me. She’s pulled her wild curls back away from her face, and she’s wearing a faded Lowell High sweatshirt of Cal’s and a pair of his basketball shorts that are so big she has them rolled at least four times at the waist, making them hit her about mid-thigh.
I liked her 4 a.m. outfit better, but I nod and shake two pills into her outstretched hand. She reaches for my water with her other hand, and I pass it to her. Honestly, I’m about two seconds from handing over my wallet and keys, too.
She pops the pills into her mouth and throws back her head. I watch the line of her throat as she swallows.
“Is the Advil for your knee?” she asks.
“It’s for my raging hangover,” I say as she rounds the island and stops in front of me, giving me a once-over before hopping up onto the counter.
“Why are you here and not in El Paso?” she asks.
“I’m taking a break,” I reply. “Why are you here and not in art school?”
“I’m taking a break,” she fires back. “You don’t just take a break in the middle of the season, Liam. Unless you’re injured or benched. You haven’t missed a game in three years.”
She knows I haven’t missed a game in three years? Well, what did it matter? What did any of it matter now? All the work, all the hours in the gym and the batting cages, all thesacrifices—it didn’t matter now. I turn away from Sophie’s gaze, afraid she’ll notice the sting behind my eyes before I can blink it back.
“Cal said you have some douchebag boyfriend. Is that why you’re here?” I try to change the subject from my failed athletic career.
“Cal called him a douchebag?”
“No,” I laugh and shake my head. “He said he was a pseudo-intellectual performance piece with a man bun who wasn’t good enough for you. I called him a douchebag.”
“He is kind of a douchebag,” she says with a mirthless laugh.
“What kind of douchebag? He didn’t hurt you, did he, Soph?” My hand is already closing into a fist.
“No,” she shook her head, but I wasn’t so sure. “But I’m not going back there.”
“I get it,” I say, pushing off the counter. “I’ll get packed up and head out.”
“No—wait!” she calls out. I turn just as she hops off the counter and follows me into the living room. “I mean…we both need a place to stay, right? And Cal always said his door was open. If you don’t mind the couch, maybe we can just…coexist? At least until one of us figures something else out.”
She flashes me a small smile. An errant curl has fallen across her cheek, and I have the undeniable urge to tuck it behind her ear.
This is a bad idea.
Cal would definitely not be thrilled about me shacking up with his little sister—especially not with the kind of thoughts I’ve been having about her. He’s always been overprotective of her. Lately, however, bad ideas have been my specialty. And it’s not like I have a ton of options. I’m not ready to crawl back to my mom’s place, and I can’t afford, well, anything else right now. I just need afew days to get my shit together. I can handle a few days with Sophie. Keep my dick in my pants and my thoughts to myself. It’s not like she’s interested anyway. I’m sure we can “coexist” like she said.
“I’m cool with the couch.”
