“Okay, but you can’t judge me,” Blakely says, tearing me away from my thoughts again.
Pay attention, you fucker. If you want a chance with her, you need to make sure she knows you’re interested.
“Would never consider judging you,” I say.
“Thank you.” She hands me the last item to sign. “So the other night, I was playing fuck, chuck, and marry, and I’m ashamed to come clean, but I chucked you.” I lift my gaze to hers, my eyebrows shooting up. She holds up her hand. “Before you get mad at me, I need to explain that I was under pressure and I didn’t know much about you, but then my boyfriend went on a tirade about how perfect you are—he has a huge man crush on you—and he convinced me to marry you.”
Boyfriend?
She has a fucking boyfriend?
“I know, I know. Why am I telling you this? Like, why would you want to know that I chucked you when my boyfriend married you? An odd thing to say to someone, but I feel like it was sitting on my chest this entire time, and I had to come clean.” She lets out a long breath. “Ooof, feels good to admit that.”
A boyfriend.
Fuck.
Of course she has a boyfriend.
Why wouldn’t she?
She’s perfect. Girls like her are snatched up quickly.
“And I know what you’re thinking: who did I fuck? Well, it was Rivers. And I know he’s gay, but that’s where the curiosity came about. I wanted to see what kind of moves he’d have. I married Posey, and my boyfriend quickly corrected me and said Posey would have way too much bologna in the house. He then told me that you would be a loyal husband and went into greatdetail about it, so. . .yeah, I was convinced otherwise.” She winces at me. “Are you mad?”
Mad at her?
No.
Mad that she has a boyfriend?
Fuck yes.
I snap out of my disappointment and say, “No . . . seems like your boyfriend knows his stuff.”
“He does. And trust me, I won’t make that mistake again.” She claps her hands together. “Well, it looks like we’re done here. Do you want me to walk you back to the locker room?”
“Nah, that’s okay,” I say as I stand from the stool, disappointment heavy in my chest.
“Okay. Well, thank you so much for taking the time to do this for me. I really appreciate it, Halsey.”
“Sure, any time.” I offer her a generic smile.
“And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that whole fuck, chuck, or marry thing. I realize maybe that wasn’t professional.”
“It’s fine.” I take a step away. “Glad your boyfriend taught you a lesson.”
“Lesson learned, won’t make that mistake again.” Her smile nearly cuts me in fucking two. “Well, good luck today, Halsey. Please no skirt-splitting end-of-game goals.”
“I’ll do my best.” I wave and take off out of the room, my heart beating so fast that my breathing feels labored.
A boyfriend.
The perfect girl has a boyfriend.
Fuck . . .
Just my luck. The one girl who made me feel something for the first time in a while has a boyfriend. That seems to be my luck in this fucking life. The ounce of hope, of finding my way out of this fog, is so quickly squandered the minute I give in to it.
