The dots appear and disappear while I grip the phone.
We should sleep separately to help with transitioning back to… you know.
Lilly!!!
It’s for the better.
Fuck for the better. I toss my phone on the sofa. It bounces around just like my trepidation. I know I won’t be able to sleep and before I do something like march to her and bring her to my place, I head out.
In the Uber, I call Roman, who picks up right away.
“Are you back?” he asks.
“A few hours ago. Meet me at the bar.”
I am the first to arrive. In the private section of the bar, I sit on the leather stool, ordering a bottle of whiskey. I am still on vacation and honestly, I don’t fucking care, but drown my sorrows.
Roman arrives shortly, sweeping his eyes from the bottle to me. “That bad, huh?”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” I groan.
He takes the seat next to me, and I word vomit. “So, Lilly and I had the best ten days. I love the woman. And she put me back in the friend zone. No, I won’t accept that.”
I am about to leave and go to her. The pros of us being together outweigh the one con by far. We’re great together. Period.
Roman drags me back onto the stool by my elbow and whispers, “Keep your voice down. She’s the coach’s daughter. And you’re fucking her?”
“It’s more.”
He waves a dismissive hand my way. “Okay, it’s more. But what if it turns out to be a fling? He could bench you. He could put your career at risk. Is she worth it?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes, she is.”
He shakes his head at me and pushes the bottle aside. “Whipped motherfucker. I knew it and you gave me shit.”
“Yes, because she’s mine.” I slap a palm on my chest, smirking. “She’s my flower girl. My dream woman. I’m going to her.” I am about to move when he palms my shoulder, keeping me planted in my seat.
“No, you will take a few days and let her miss you.”
I feel my brows furrow. “That sounds like a horrible plan.”
“If you push her, she’s just going to be entitled to thinking she’s right with the distance.”
He might have a point.
“So what should I do? If I remain here, I won’t be able to stay away.”
“I did buy a boat. Let’s make good use of it.”
With the plan set, we hop in an Uber and drive to the port.
On his sleek, curvy yacht with tinted black windows, a group of people wait, cheering.
I mumble, “I thought it was going to be just us.”
Drinking from a bottle of beer, I see some of our single teammates coming on board, women draped on their arms. Music blasts from the speakers, making it impossible to hear or be heard, but that doesn’t deter people from trying.
I am in a corner mumbling to a second woman, “Not interested.”
