No. it’s the truth.
Yeah.
That’s all I say. I jump in the shower before I say something I regret and I hurriedly run through my usual ritual. I don’t bother shaving my legs because hello, I’m not moving that fast with Cade. There will be no bare leg touching tonight. I don’t wash my hair because it curls better when it’s a little dirtier, and I’ve shut off the water and barely wrapped the towel around myself when I’m already checking my phone for a response.
Who’s the lucky guy? Got someone steady in your life?
My damp skin prickles at his words. For some reason, it feels like he spent a lot of time laboring over those two sentences. Should I be honest? Or make up some elaborate story about my hot sexy boyfriend who keeps me well satisfied in bed every night?
I’m not a liar, though. So I tell him the truth.
It’s a first date with a guy I work with.
He doesn’t respond for so long, I’m dry, lotioned up, and halfway dressed with my makeup done and my hair partially curled by the time I receive a reply.
/> Have fun.
My smile is smug at his words and my stomach bottoms out, but damn it, I will have fun.
Even if it kills me.
Did I expect Amanda to reach out to me after the Inside Football interview?
If I’m being completely honest with myself, that’s a yes.
What I didn’t expect was the swarm of conflicting emotions that overwhelmed me while I chatted with her over social media throughout the day. In the beginning, I didn’t know what to say. Should I be polite? Distant? Treat her like an old friend? An old lover?
She was all of those things to me. Friend. Lover. At one point, she was the most important person in my life—and then she ended it. When she reached out last night, I thought I wanted to stick it to her. Remind her of what she could’ve had, but lost. When she broke up with me all those years ago, I’d been crushed.
Then I got pissed.
Fuck her, I thought more than once.
But as time went by, I realized what I did to her. What I did to every woman who tried to come into my life since her. I didn’t have time for any of them. Worse, I didn’t have time for Amanda—the supposed most important person in my life. College consumed me. Football consumed me. So many things were happening and I let them take me away from her.
So I felt like shit. After some time and distance, I realized I’m just as much to blame for the breakup as she is. She gave up on me.
I gave up on her too.
And that’s hard to admit.
Yet now, at this very moment, here she is. Back in my life. Just like I knew she would be. Can we be friends again?
I’m not sure.
Knowing she’s going on a date tonight with some undeserving jackass did something to me. Jealousy reared its ugly head, no matter how much I told myself that I’m over her.
Because I am. Over her.
We could never work. I’m still just as consumed by my too-busy life. I don’t have time for anyone. I barely have time for myself.
And besides I’m over her.
Over. Her.
Maybe if I keep repeating those same two words in my head, I’ll start believing them.
“I hope you like Chinese,” Cade tells me as we walk toward the restaurant.