Ihate when he’s right.
I need help, and I’m mad about it.
Sitting on the couch in my living room, and my bladder is aching. He’s getting ready to leave for a doubleheader weekend with the Raccoons, and I’d be lying if I said I’m fine with him leaving. Except that’s exactly what I told him. “It’s fine, you should go.”
Dude took it at face value, too, and he’s leaving. Ugh. That’s not entirely fair. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He’d much rather be here with me, but his commitment to his team, his future, that’s not something he takes lightly.
At least his team appreciates when he shows up. I yell at him for cleaning up my piss. He’s even going late, again, to join them separately. They’re already in Sioux Falls getting ready to face the Phoenix.
I’ve seen damn near every game Apollo has ever played, and watching him on the ice against the Phoenix might be my favorite. I’m not even sure why.
He’s left the chess board within arm’s reach, but it’s no use, I’m utterly flummoxed. As usual. The temptation toaccidentallykick the board over with my cast consumes me. We’ve played chess together since we were teenagers. He’s played daily since he was six years old and is basically a master.
My chances of beating him are slim-to-none. I can count my wins on one hand, in all the time we’ve played I don’t seem to improve even a little, but he never lets me quit, and he always comes back for more.
Sadistic fucker.
It’s not even an ego thing. He doesn’t enjoy watching me flounder and fail. He told me long ago he’s always pushed me to be the very best version of myself. How the fuck losing to him at chess twice a week does that is anyone’s guess. But here we are.
“I’ll tell him it wasn’t an accident.” Penelope’s voice draws me out of my intention.
“It could be.” Shrugging, I groan. “He’d believe you over me though.”
“He knows you too well.” She smiles, handing me a glass of water with a metal straw. I’m a fucking invalid. For so long I’ve prided myself on being independent, strong, capable, and here I am, stuck on this stupid sofa, unable to do the simplest of tasks.
A familiar ire slinks under my skin. I’m not this person, and I fucking hate it.
“Shouldn’t he be gone already?” Pen is moving in for the weekend. I tried to protest, but neither of them would listen. Assholes. I’m sure I’d be fine by myself. Kind of.
Okay, so I can’t stand up by myself, use the bathroom alone, or prepare my own food, but it’d be fine, right?
I have to stop myself from snorting. As fine as that gif where a dog sits at a table in a burning building.
Apollo tried to find me a nurse, but not even the mighty de la Peña name can overcome the nursing shortage in Iowa right now. I’m almost relieved about that, I’d hate to cut the line and get special treatment when so many other people are waiting for help they need far more than I do.
“Edie?”
“Hm?”
“Sir stomps a lot.” She jerks her chin to the banging and swearing across the hall. “He should be gone already.”
My face heats. “He’s following behind.”
“Again.”
“Again.” I can’t look her in the eye, afraid she’ll see the war waging inside of me. I wanted him to kiss me the other day, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
Did this life altering experience make me acutely aware that I’m alone and could have died alone? Sure.
Did it also make Apollo think he’s wildly in love with me? Yes.
Might I be attracted to my hot, funny, grumpy buttface best friend? Affirmative.
Am I going to pursue it and see what happens? Fuck no.
I can’t risk going there. I can’t. I can’t take the chance that dating my best friend will go well when so many people cross that line, and it turns to shit.
Exhibit A: my parents.
