WhiskeyAndInk: You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what the hell to do. I’m thirty-two and apparently have the emotional range of a damp sponge. So… that’s where I’m at.
I huff out a laugh, low and shaky. It shouldn’t make me feel anything. But it does. Because that’s not his locker room voice. That’s not Coach Gray.
That’s Silas. And I want to know this version of him.
I want the version of him that made me beg with not much more than a few touches and a look. The one who kissed me as if I was the first spark he felt in years. And the same one that benched me because he couldn’t handle watching another boy break.
And maybe I should be mad about it. Maybe I should still be hurt.
But instead, I’m lying here on my bed with my heart twisting and my lips tilted up like some lovesick idiot, while the butterflies in my stomach try to go braindead escaping.
I type back slowly.
Me: You’re not a sponge. You’re more like a grumpy cat who pushes people away so they don’t see how soft you are inside. But I see you. And I’m still here.
My phone buzzes again.
WhiskeyAndInk: Careful, Luke. You keep saying things like that, and I might start hoping for more than I should.
My heart flips.
I stare at the screen for a long beat, then type back.
Me: You make it sound like I’m dangerous.
Another pause. Then:
WhiskeyAndInk: You are.
I bite my lip. Feel the tug of a grin I don’t mean to have.
Me: Is that why you ghosted me after round two?
WhiskeyAndInk: I didn’t ghost you. I panicked. Then tried to pretend I didn’t care…I do.
If that isn’t obvious.
I let that sit. Let my pulse calm down enough to respond.
Me: You had a real funny way of showing it. Locker room sex followed by avoidance? Classic coach move.
I hit send before I can think better of it. There’s a pause.
WhiskeyAndInk: I deserved that. Maybe I was hoping if I kept my distance, I could stop wanting more. Didn’t work.
I swallow hard. Fingers hovering.
Me: You really suck at casual, you know. But for what it’s worth… I didn’t hate round two.
WhiskeyAndInk: Same. Every time I look at you, it’s a new reason to forget why I said no in the first place.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip and type out my response. Curiosity killed the cat, and it might kill me too, but I can’t stop the question.
Me: Why did you say no?
There’s a long pause. The kind that makes me wonder if he’s going to answer at all. Then my screen lights up.
WhiskeyAndInk: Because I don’t know how to want someone without needing control. And you make me lose every bit of it.
