Page 24 of Playing the Player

The hurt in his eyes makes me want to stay, to fix this, but I don’t. Instead, I do as he says, picking my stuff up off the floor and leaving without saying another word. I’ll call him tomorrow. Hopefully things will feel a little less complicated in the morning.

Somehow, I doubt that they will.

10

Conor

I was an ass last night. I knew it when I had asked Sasha to leave that I was being unfair. The problem was, if she’d stayed, I would have made things a whole lot worse. I should call her. No, I need to call her. I need to apologize to her. But after practically throwing her out of my apartment, I don’t know if she’ll even answer the call.

She made these rules for a reason and within twenty-four hours, we almost broke one of them. I get why she said that it can never happen, but it still stung like a bitch. It wasn’t the alcohol that made me want to kiss her but I was stupid enough to think she wanted to kiss me too.

I’m just a love sick fool who’s had a crush on this girl since we first met. Had I hoped coming into this that maybe it would lead to more? Sure. But Sasha’s only in this for one thing and I need to remember that. I can’t push it. Not with the way my mind works. I’ll end up over thinking every smile and obsessing over every touch until I inevitably do or say something really fucking stupid.

Practice usually clears my head but today, it hasn’t worked. Normally, I would go to Cap when I have too much in my head, but I can’t. Not with this. He’ll just tell me to end it before it gets worse, and I know I probably should, but for some stupid reason, I don’t want to.

When I get into my truck, I pull Sasha’s name up on my phone and hit call. It rings for what feels like a lifetime before it goes to voicemail. How have I fucked this up already?

The familiar roar of the engine soothes the ache in my chest a little. I shift the car into drive, ready to get home and shower off my shame from how I treated Sash last night but a message coming through my phone has me pausing. I shift back into neutral before checking it.

Angel: Sorry I’m at work. Can’t answer right now

or my boss will have my ass.

Relief floods my chest. Thank God. I was fully expecting her to say ‘We’re done’.

Impulsivity has been one of my biggest challenges having ADHD. I’ve been impulsive since I was a kid and it’s one thing that has never changed. I sometimes think it’s gotten worse the older I’ve got. When I see something I want, I have to have it right then and there and if I can't get it, I'll obsess over it until I do. Which is exactly what’s happening right now.

Me: Go out with me tonight?

Angel: Where?

Me: Anywhere you want.

Angel: Can we go back to that Italian place?

Me: I’ll pick you up at 6:30pm.

Angel: See you then.

A huge grin splits across my face. “Yes!” I fist pump the air as if I’ve just scored the winning goal. Anyone walking past right now will think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

I can’t believe she agreed to it. I was so sure I fucked it all up. I was up most of the night, just staring at the ceiling, thinking about what happened, wondering if I should call her, or go to her place but then slapped myself because that was a stupid idea. I just need to apologize and we’ll go back to being a happy couple.

The second I knock on Sasha’s door it swings open, like she was standing there waiting for me.

My mouth goes dry as I take her in and every coherent thought leaves my head. Fuck me, she’s beautiful. No, that doesn’t even come close. Beautiful is too ordinary a word for whatever the hell she’s doing to me.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress that’s fitted on the top and flows at the bottom. Her white heels give her an extra inch or two and make her smooth, toned legs look even more delicious.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to drop to my knees more in my life.

“Hi.” She says quietly as I continue to drink her in. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. I want to take that lip between mine and soothe the ache she must be causing.

When my eyes meet her chocolate brown ones, I realize I’ve been standing here for about two minutes just staring at her. I clear my throat before speaking, hoping it’ll stop my voice from coming out as wrecked as I feel. “You look…” I can’t finish that sentence because how am I supposed to put this into words? She’s gorgeous, stunning, intoxicating, everything in between and so much more.

The blush on her cheeks deepens and she ducks her head for a second before looking back at me.

The Sasha I met was sassy and feisty. She had no filter, like me, saying whatever thought came into her head and had no trouble telling me where to shove my opinions. She never hesitated, never second guessed herself.