“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, and it kind of feels like a trap, but whatever, I’m right so I continue.
“I mean, c’mon, your height shouldn’t even matter. Guys don’t care about that, not like girls.”
He freezes before deliberately pressing down even harder on my thigh. My leg jerks in his grip.
“Ah! Assault!” I gasp.
“You were saying?” he asks calmly, a small smirk on his lips as he loosens his grip.
He keeps a threatening hold on my thigh, but I have never been known to be smart, so I keep going.
“Think about it,” I say, waving my hands around to help him think about it. “Two guys, no weird dinner expectations, no trying to impress anyone, just vibes.”
His thumb digs deep into the already twitching muscle.
I wheeze, but heroically continue. “Men are simple creatures. Just show them a nice dick pic and you’ll get a boyfriend in no time. Easy-peasy.”
“You’re the last person I’d take dating advice from,” he replies, his eyebrow raised even higher. “Have you forgotten that none of your relationships last longer than two weeks?”
“Hey,” I say, offended. “Didn’t that Jen–Jessica? Jackie? Uh, anyways, there was that one girl who lasted a whole three weeks.”
“Janice Patterson,” Colten easily replies. “That was only because you guys were separated one of those weeks due to training camp. She broke up with you as soon as you got back.”
“Really?” I ask, squinting as I try to remember.
“Really,” he says, sighing before reminding me, “You said she wouldn’t let you eat her fries even though she never finished them.”
Colten looks up at me then, his dark eyes shifting with something not quite angry, but not quite amused, either.
“I don’t do temporary, Patrick,” he says. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I want to argue, but he’s right. Even though I fall in love all the time, nothing ever sticks. It’s fun, is what it is, even if the breakups rarely are.
Eventually, I’m sure I’ll find a nice girl that I don’t find annoying, or who doesn’t get upset with me for spending all my time training, and then we’ll marry and have a ton of kids while I play pro soccer.
But for now, maybe Colten has a point.
Of course, I won’t admit such a thing, but thankfully my phone starts ringing before I can press the issue any further.
“Saved by modern technology,” I sing, slipping out of Colten’s grasp and sliding off the table before he can stop me.
Colten crosses his arms as I answer the call.
Julian Mercer’s name is on the screen, which is odd because he’s more of a texting kind of guy.
“Julian?” I answer, confused.
“Hey…” Julian says on the other end, hesitation in his voice as he continues, “Uh, are you busy right now?”
Which is even more odd, because this is Julian Mercer we’re talking about. He does not hesitate. Hesitation isn’t what made him the charming guy who’s dated even more people than I have.
To be fair, he’s bi, so he can get girls and guys, so he does have it easier than me.
Still, it’s strange how careful he sounds.
I glance over at Colten.
He’s leaning against the treatment table now, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his face, arms still crossed, and watching me impatiently.
