I look at him next to me, sleeping so soundly.
But he’s with me and not her. I’m the one sleeping in his bed at night. Not her.
If I say no, it’ll look suspicious. After how much fun we had last time—despite our definition of having fun being very different—if I say no, I’ll look like an asshole. I don’t want to be the asshole, but can I handle watching Jordan and hisgirlfriendbe all lovey dovey and do dumb boyfriend-girlfriend shit while knowing what he tastes like? What he sounds like when he comes? What he feels like in my arms?
While knowing he will never do that lovey dovey boyfriend shit withme?
Maybe this is what needs to happen. Maybe it’s what I need to distance myself.
Time for the lifeboats, Alex.
Hey! Yeah, I’m totally down for a double! Tell Maggie we’re in!
I click send, and let out a breath. I wipe my tears, crawl next to Jordan, and close my eyes.
He reaches for me, sliding his hand over my hip and pulling me close against his chest.
His breath against my back is even, steady as his hand falls over my chest, over my heart. I bring my hand up, twisting my fingers between his, stroking his palm with my thumb. I gently bring it to my lips and kiss the back of his hand.
“I love you,” I whisper, even though he can’t hear me.
There. I said it.
But it’s a cop out, because he can’t hear me. Maybe it’s better that way.
I keep my hand in his as I settle against him, closing my eyes and focusing on the rhythm of his breathing and his heartbeat. And that’s what I count until I fall asleep.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through this double date.
Mack presses his fingers into my calf and rubs. “Relax, Alex.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter. If only he understood why I’m so stressed.
I can’t help but shake the feeling that this is it. This is where it all falls apart.
The vicious voice in my head that used to tell me I was no good, that I wasn’t worth it has changed to somethingmore sinister. Now it tells me that maybe it will work out. Maybe he’ll make the right choice.
I’d rather have self loathing than hope. Hope is a cruel bitch.
He presses into the muscle hard, and I hiss.
“Pressure okay?”
No. It’s not.
But my leg feels fine.
“Yeah, you’re good,” I say as he runs his hands up my leg. I close my eyes, hanging my head as he bends my leg.
“You’re healing really well. At this rate, you’ll be tearing up the ice in no time,” he says with pride.
That’s the goal, right? That’s always been the goal…
So why do I feel like I’m losing all over again?
When I told him this morning about the double date, I thought he was going to pass out.
But he agreed it was probably a good idea. I had hoped he’d refuse and tell me it was a terrible idea, he doesn’t want to see Maggie, and he doesn’twanther at all.
