“And more casual ones?”
I shrugged. “A few.”
“So guys do ask you out. And I’m sure you got plenty of swipes of interest on whatever dating app you’ve used.”
No argument there. I had gotten lots of interest, but I was in school back then. I didn’t have time for guys. So I ended up deleting my profile. And smart man that he was, Jake took my silence for admission.
“See? You’ve been asked.”
I blew out a breath and accelerated too hard. The car jerked forward, but then I steadied out at a slow crawl. “Fine. Yes, guys do ask me out. Just not…” I shot a look over at him. “Hot guys. Popular guys. Celebrities like you.”
“Have you ever asked them?”
I tapped my nail on the wheel. “They’re supposed to ask me.”
“Well, yeah. But celebrities can be especially stupid. And distracted. So except for me, have you ever approached a celebrity?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know any celebrities except the Bobcats.”
“And I’m the only one you’ve ever asked out, and I said yes.” He leaned toward me, his green eyes narrowed. “So what’s all this ‘experience’ you’re talking about? Why do you assume you’re going to get rejected?”
“Because I made bad boyfriend choices in college.” They’d started out great, but quickly turned into selfish jerks. And being the romantic, I’d hung on way too long and gotten used to having all my ideas rejected as stupid.
“We all make dumb choices,” he argued. “My last serious girlfriend wanted to remake me into Clooney. She scrutinized my every public appearance and tried to change my hair and my wardrobe. Hell, even baseball babes have tried to change me somehow. One told me I needed to smile with less teeth.”
“You’ve got a great smile.”
He flashed me his pearly whites. “Of course I do.” Then his expression faded. “The point is, we’re all stupid at times. Just don’t make that a lifelong habit.”
And there was the reason behind all my exposure therapy. I hated that I stopped myself before I even tried. But rather than rehash old ground with him, I sidestepped the issue. “It’s not just guys, you know. It’s everything.”
“Let me guess. You had to work hard to get good grades, then fight to get any respect from your peers. When things just seem to come easy to pretty girls and hot guys, you had to work hard to force someone to even see you.”
I blew out a breath. “Yes.” That was exactly what I meant.
“Welcome to the club.”
I glared at him. “Please. I’ve seen your stats, your press, and your face. You’ve never—”
“Felt humiliated? Like I had to prove myself every second I’m on the field or up to bat? Everyone struggles, Ellie. But if you just assume you’ll lose, then you have to fight yourself as well as everyone else.”
I glared at him, hard enough that I allowed an asshole in a Ferrari to cut in front of me. But Jake took my glare with all the calm stoicism of a statue. And then, while I cursed the stupid Ferrari, he had the audacity to arch a brow.
“Go ahead. Yell at me. I can take it.”
“I’m yelling at the asshole in the—”
“But you’re angry at me.”
I was about to slam him. Hell, I wanted to call him ugly names, but the truth was that I’d read enough self-help articles in my time to know that he was right. Every time I tried to take a risk, I had to climb the barriers I’d built up first. “I used to be bold as brass as a kid. That’s what my dad called me—bold as brass.”
“And at some point, life beats us down. Once we fall on our face enough times, we get cautious.”
“Or we’re told that good girls don’t speak up.”
“Or that no one ever makes it into the pros.”
I sighed. “I just stopped trying, except in the things I really cared about.”
