He doesn’t let go for a long time, and I don’t want him to.
“We are going to have to go to this team thing,” he grumbles, finally releasing me.
“I know.” I almost ask him to hug me again, but I know I’m being stupid. I step back and straighten up.
He drinks in my clothes for the first time, dragging his gaze down my body and back up. I barely resist the urge to cover my stomach again as my skin heats.
“Is that new?”
“I’m trying something different.”
“I like it.” He takes another look, and I don’t know what I should be feeling.
“Thank you.” I pause for a second as I grab a pair of Air Jordans. Pink to match my shirt, coming up with an idea. “I think it’s time to let go of who we used to be.”
He doesn’t reply right away, mulling it over. “You’re right. It’s time to have fun.” Wolfe nods like he’s also got some idea forming.
“Should I be scared?”
“No, but honestly, fuck women. I’m done dating.” Wolfe has entered the rage part of the breakup, it seems.
“You’re done with women?” I side-eye him, not allowing myself to hope this is some sort of bisexual awakening for him.
“Dating them. I’m not not going to fuck.”
“I never believed you could go without sex for that long.” I roll my eyes, trying not to deflate.
“I’m serious, it’s one-night stands for me only!” He closes one eye, making a face.
We fall into silence, and I’m okay with it, because he’s here, and he doesn’t hate me. I go back to the mirror, fixing my outfit, before adding some rings.
“Angel?” Wolfe breaks the silence after a while.
“Yes?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
He looks at me, eyes nearly black. “If I ever try to date again, stop me.”
I groan, wanting desperately to agree, but knowing I can’t. “You know that won’t work.”
“It will. You’re the only person I’ll listen to.”
“When you meet the right person, you’ll choose her over me, and I don’t want to risk that.”
“I promise I won’t. Please, Angel.”
ONE
ARCHANGEL
THREE YEARS LATER
Wolfe stands with three women all over him. I’m more than used to it at this point. He still hasn’t dated anyone, which makes me happy and sad in mixed measures. Neither of us has really dated a ton. I’ve had a few short relationships, but for the most part, men in NYC like to get on apps and fuck.
Maybe I should be less selfish, but I can’t bring myself to break the promise I made. Or maybe I can’t bear to share his nights with anyone else. Either way, it’s going to change in a year, because there is no way Wolfe won’t be at the top of the draft. I’m shocked he waited this long. It’s impossible to ignore him or tell him no, for that matter. He’s already had offers to go early, but he wants to play his senior year with the Gods.
Since I’m irresponsible, and live my life day to day, I have no idea what I’m doing after college. I don’t exactly want to play in the AHL and I don’t think I’ll be drafted like he will. I’m good, but there are only so many spots open. Plus, as much as my family hates my gay ass, they still won’t cut me out of the will. Thank God. I was not made for a nine-to-five. I shudder at the thought. But I probably should have considered before mysenior year how I’m going to use this art history degree, because I dread being forced back to Savannah if I have no prospects after college.
I gag a little and decide I need another drink. There is only so long I can watch Wolfe being hit on before actually vomiting.
