The woman next to me chatted away about something to do with her friend. I had no clue who her friend was, or what she was even talking about, but I continued to nod and smile as if I gave a crap. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was still here, but I figured if I sat around long enough, drinking everything that had been handed to me, I would stop thinking about the kiss between Ellie and Gage.

Her lips on his.

His mouth on hers.

It sickened me.

While she rambled, I stared at my phone, the words long since blurred together.

ET: Can we talk about the flowers?

I’d stared at her message for what felt like years, although it had probably only been an hour, and I’d yet to respond. I had repeatedly tried to type something out, but no matter what words I used, none of them were right.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot tonight,” the talkative stranger mentioned. “Am I keeping you from anything? You seem distracted.”

Without locking the screen, I glanced over at her. In all honesty, she was beautiful—in the model kind of way. Taking notice of her now, I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like in the morning when all the dark makeup wore off.

And that thought made me imagine Ellie’s face when the sun first came up. She didn’t wear makeup often, and when she did, it was so light it almost seemed she wasn’t wearing any. Natural. That’s what Ellie was. I was sure if she’d been here with me, she’d find something about Barstool Barbie to envy. Yet if I tried to compare the two women, there wasn’t a single thing about this woman I would’ve wished Ellie had—other than the seat next to me.

“Just girl problems. Nothing big.”

Her doe eyes drooped in the way that said she felt sorry for me seconds before she draped her arm over my shoulder in an attempt to offer me comfort. “You look sad. What’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

I explained everything over two more drinks—even though I definitely didn’t need them. The alcohol made talking about it easier, but it hadn’t done anything to alleviate the pain that threatened to take me under. By the time I caught her up on my entire life with Ellie, from my earliest memory to my suffocating regret for not speaking up sooner, she almost seemed excited.

“She’s my crab,” I said before tipping my glass back to finish the rest of the drink. Raising one finger toward the bartender, I silently asked for another.

“Your what?”

“My crab. They mate for life. It means she’s my soul mate.”

The woman—whose name I still couldn’t recall, despite her telling me several times—tossed her head back and giggled while running a hand over my bicep. “You mean lobster. It’s from Friends.”

“No…” I narrowed my gaze at her, more so I could see her better, but also because she was wrong. “I mean crabs. You know, the red creatures at the bottom of the ocean with pinchers.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of what they are. But lobsters are red, live on the bottom of the ocean, and have pinchers, too. It’s a popular saying—calling your soul mate your lobster.”

“You’re not getting it. Ellie has red hair. She’s my crab.”

Rather than argue with me, she simply nodded and continued to touch me in one way or another. “Well, if you ask me, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“That makes no sense. Plus, I don’t want to get over her.”

“Then maybe just use it to stop thinking about her for a bit. I can make it worth your while.”

I stared at her, wondering how in the world I’d gotten myself into this situation again. After I had been dropped from the team, it seemed like the women faded away. Then again, I wasn’t going out with the guys as often, either. And when I did, it was only Gage and Ellie. When Ellie was near me, it was like no other woman existed. Not that I’d been aware of that until recently.

“Are you trying to have sex with me?”

“If you’re willing…” She tried to give me a flirtatious smile, one corner of her mouth curled higher than the other, her eyes turned to slits, but it just made her look like she had no clue how to wink. And once again, my thoughts returned to Ellie, to how she used to make fun of me when I struggled to close only one eye at a time. “Listen, I get that you’re upset about your friends dating. I’m just trying to take your mind off it.”

The part that surprised me the most about her forwardness was she didn’t have a clue who I was. To her, I was just another guy in a bar, alone. A target for a fun night. I assumed she found me attractive; otherwise, I doubted she would’ve approached me the way she had. But I’d literally just finished explaining to her how upset I was over Ellie being with another man because she should’ve been with me. So it confused me why she made such an effort to sleep with me.

“Here, let’s take a picture together. If nothing else, we can have it to look at after we go home…alone.”

I wasn’t sure how having my photo taken with her would’ve helped, or why I would’ve wanted to look at it after I left, but instead of arguing, I leaned into her and smiled at the camera on her phone. It wasn’t until after the fact that I realized it was more for her than for me, probably something to show her friends while telling them some fabricated tale of our evening together. Just as long as when she told it, I made it past third base and rocked her world, I didn’t care.

“What’s your number? I’ll text it to you. It’s a good one of us.”

Without thinking, I rattled off the number, and within a few seconds, my phone lit up on the bar with an incoming text. I grabbed it quickly, my heart tightening in anticipation of it being Ellie. Then my world crashed down around me when I noticed the unfamiliar number with the thumbnail image on the screen.

Stupid me. She had told me she was sending me the photo, and then I gave her my number, yet the second I received a message, hope blossomed in my chest, completely ignoring logic.

I stared at the two of us, both smiling like we were lifelong pals. It was amazing what kind of lies a picture could tell. To anyone else who saw this, it looked like we were having fun. It depicted the story of two people who more than likely would leave the bar and have crazy sex—the kind of wild sex I was sure Gage and Ellie had.

And thinking of the two of them together only pissed me off more.

He was supposed to be my friend. Granted, I’d never admitted to him how I felt about Ellie—probably because I wasn’t aware of the enormity of it until recently—so I couldn’t blame him. Although, that didn’t stop me from wanting to rip him apart limb by limb until he was nothing more than a life-sized version of the game Operation.

In all honesty, I had no one to blame but myself, and I couldn’t deny that. I couldn’t fault Gage or Ellie for giving into their attraction toward one another. I’d waited too long to open up about my feelings and what I ultimately wanted with Ellie. I’d wasted precious time, and at the end of the day, my hesitation had cost me the heart of the only woman I had ever, and will ever, love. If I was to be mad at someone, it’d have to be myself.

However, realizing that didn’t make anything better, nor did it calm the raging storm inside my aching chest. Allowing my anger to get the best of me, I saved the image and switched over to my text conversation with Ellie, ignoring the countless unread messages from Gage. I sent the picture, as well as a caption that read: Do you think she’s pretty?

“Who did you send that to?” she asked, glancing over my shoulder.

“My best friend.”

“Do you have to get his permission to sleep with me?” She kind of sounded offended, but I couldn’t be sure. My last drink had hit me harder than I expected and made all sounds swim in my head.

Before I could answer, Ellie’s response filled the blue box on my screen.

ET: I don’t have a clue how to respond to this…

It may have made me look like a complete ass, but I started typing, ignoring my nameless companion while she read over my shoulder. Granted, it took far more focus to respond due to the blurry letters, so even if I’d wanted to answer her earlier question, I wouldn’t have been able to—for two reasons: I couldn’t pay attention to more than one thing at a time in my drunken stupor, and I couldn’t remember what she’d even asked me to begin with.

Me: It’s simple. Yes or no. You could elaborate, but it’s not necessary.

Thank God for autocorrect.

“Why does it matter if she thinks I’m pretty. I’m confused.”

I shrugged her off while watching the dots dance on the screen. “It’s something we talked about the other day. I’m just curious what she says.”

With her bottom back on the stool, she asked, “You talked about me the other day?”

“Clearly not. I didn’t know you.” I jerked my head to the side so fast the room began to spin. “Wait…we just met tonight, right?” I closed one eye and squinted the other. “Or do we know each other?”

She must’ve thought I was kidding because she giggled—not even in a cute way, either—and playfully shoved me. “No. We don’t. We just met tonight. But you asked her if she thought I was pretty, and then said it’s because of something you two talked about before. So I was wondering how I fit into that.”

“Oh, yeah…that makes more sense. It was just about girls finding other women attractive, or checking them out.”

She started to talk, but the dots on the screen had transformed into a text, so I stopped listening.

ET: Where is this going? Why do you care what I think? Do YOU think she’s pretty?

Me: No. I don’t.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Her mouth was so close to my ear, and her voice came out high and loud, that I nearly went deaf. It was enough to call my attention to the fuming woman by my side, no longer perched on the stool. It was clear that Jilted Barbie was not happy.

“What?” Confused didn’t begin to describe my state of mind.

“You just told her you don’t find me attractive.”

“No. That’s not what I said. She asked if I think you’re pretty. I said no.”

She blinked rapidly, her lips pursed and nostrils flaring. “What’s the difference?”

This would’ve been the perfect time to have taken Ellie’s mom’s advice to think before speaking. But I didn’t. Instead of saying, “Pretty doesn’t begin to describe you,” or something from Gage’s playbook like, “Honey, you’re so fine you make pretty women look like gutter rats,” I said, “You don’t have to be pretty to be considered attractive.” The taste of my foot in my mouth didn’t mix well with alcohol.

With a few choice words—none of which I comprehended—she stormed off. At least her hasty exit saved me from getting slapped in the face. The words, “It’s totally okay though, because I also don’t find you attractive,” played in my head, and I couldn’t say with any certainty they hadn’t been uttered out loud as she walked away.

But I didn’t have the head space to contemplate it because another text came through.

ET: Why not?

Me: Her hair is the wrong color.

ET: What does that mean?

Me: Never mind. She just left anyway. Guess I shouldn’t have let her read my texts.

The bubbles appeared, then went away, then came back up again. Finally, after a hundred years of watching them dance in front of me, the screen dimmed, then locked. I set my phone down and found a glass filled with amber liquid sitting in front of me. I hadn’t noticed the bartender bring it over, but between the texts with Ellie and the animosity from Murderous Barbie—not to mention, my inebriation—I wasn’t surprised I’d missed it.

I nearly choked on Crown when my phone lit up.

ET: Why would you tell me you didn’t think she was pretty if she was looking over your shoulder? And are you ever going to answer my question about the flowers?

Me: You asked. I answered.

I completely ignored the topic of the flowers I’d tossed into the trash after she left with Gage. I wasn’t ready to discuss that and wasn’t sure when I would be. But drunk or not, that wasn’t a conversation that should’ve been had over text messages.

ET: Flowers…

She wasn’t about to let me off the hook for this one.

But I wasn’t about to give in so easily, either.

Me: Candy…

ET: ???

Me: I thought we were playing Family Feud. Things you get for Valentine’s Day.

ET: You know what I’m talking about. But that’s fine. We can discuss this when you get home. Any idea when that might be?

I glanced at the top of the screen to check the time, realizing it was after one in the morning. Ellie hardly ever stayed up past midnight on Fridays, too exhausted after a long week at school, but I couldn’t think about why she was awake. I wouldn’t be able to handle finding out Gage was still there—which would’ve explained why his calls and texts had stopped coming in.

And then I was pissed all over again, no longer remembering they weren’t to blame.

Me: Once I’m done entertaining the ladies.

ET: You just told me she left.

Me: There’s more. Don’t worry about me.

ET: Who are you with?

Pulling my attention away from her text, I found the bartender standing in front of me. She was cute, so I held up my phone and snapped a picture of her. Thankfully, she was smiling. I held up my empty glass—unsure of how I’d downed it so fast—and asked, “Can I have another, please?”

With a sparkle in her eye, she leaned down to grab something beneath the counter. I used the time to send the photo to Ellie. But when the woman stood back up, rather than refilling my tumbler, she set a bottle of water down on a napkin.

“What’s this?”

“Drink that first, and then we’ll discuss another round.” Jess, as her nametag read, winked before sliding down to the other straggling customers. Although, I did take note of how she didn’t offer them water. But Ellie’s text kept me from complaining.

ET: Let me guess…you think she’s pretty.

Me: No.

ET: And what’s wrong with her? Are her shoes the wrong size, Goldilocks?

Me: No. Her eyes are brown. I have no idea what size her shoes are.

ET: You’re not making any sense. But I can see you’re in a bar, so I’m going to assume you’ve been drinking. How are you getting home?

Me: My car. Same way I got here.

ET: You’re NOT driving. Where are you? I’ll come get you.

Me: Don’t worry about me. There are plenty of women here who can take me home.

Bile burned the back of my throat when I realized what I’d said to her. Had it been in jest, or before our relationship had started to take a turn from friends to…something more, then it wouldn’t have bothered me so much. But I’d said it out of anger. It was immature, and all I wanted to do was send another message, apologizing and begging for forgiveness, but I couldn’t do that. So rather than chance making things worse, I locked the screen and slid the phone back into my pocket.

Apparently, one bottle of water wasn’t enough for the bartender. I no longer thought she was cute. The more water she fed me, the worse she looked. Then again, it could’ve had something to do with the scowl I wore when looking at her, but regardless, she was a hag who kept me from numbing the pain Ellie’s kiss with Gage had inflicted upon me.

“You about ready to go?”

I picked my head up, not realizing I’d rested my cheek in the crook of my elbow on the bar top—or closed my eyes—and found the most striking pair of blue eyes staring back at me. My mouth was dry, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, preventing me from responding.

“Your bill is paid, so let’s go. Okay?”

I held up one finger, gesturing for this beauty to wait, and fumbled with my phone until I had the camera app opened and aimed at her. She didn’t bother to smile like the others when I snapped her picture. She also didn’t glance over my shoulder while I sent it to Ellie, with a caption that read: I found her.

“Found who?” she asked.

Maybe she had peeked and read my text. “My dream girl.”

She was quiet, but I didn’t turn her way, too busy staring at the screen, waiting for the bubbles to pop up. But they never did.

“Come on. It’s time to leave.”

“You gonna take me to your house?” I practically fell off the stool, but she grabbed my shirt to steady me. With my arm slung over her shoulders, hers wrapped around my lower back, I followed her out of the bar to the parking lot. Once she had me settled in the passenger seat of her car, I confessed, “I have to warn you…I may have played baseball, but I was horrible at batting.”

She paused for a moment, her head tilted to the side as though observing me. And without saying anything else, she closed the door. I tried to watch her circle the hood to the driver’s side, but her movements blurred. It made me hate Crown, because the effects of the liquor kept me from admiring everything about her.

“So if you’re here to have sex with me, I feel I should warn you…there’s a good chance that won’t happen,” I continued as soon as she started the engine. “I mean, I’ve had sex before. I’m not a virgin or anything.”

“That’s good to know,” she quipped and turned onto the main road.

“But I think I should tell you, before you get me to your house, that I fail at third base.”

“I have no idea what that even means.” For someone so eager to get me home to sleep with me, this woman wasn’t giving me the time of day. Her responses were short and toed the line of irritation

I scrubbed my hand down my face and leaned into the door with the side of my head resting on the cool glass. It was too hard to keep my eyes open, so I gave in and closed them. But that didn’t stop me from explaining. I’d never given anyone warning before, so I figured if she was prepared for something to go wrong before we got down and dirty, I might actually get a home run with this one. And considering she met every physical qualification of mine—that I could tell—I couldn’t risk losing her.

“Every time I get to or near third base with a girl, something happens. I mean…nothing happens. Wait. Let me start over. I’ve only ever had sex with one girl. And it’s only happened twice.”

She slammed on the brakes so hard I flew forward, nearly slamming my head into the glove box. “You’ve never slept with anyone else? Why not?”

I resituated myself in the seat, this time pulling the safety belt across my chest, and then angled myself to look at her, finding her staring at me with wide eyes. “That answer could take all night…and a therapist. But in a nutshell, there’s always been something wrong with every girl. But you’re different.”

“Why am I different?” Her question was barely a whisper.

“You have her eyes. And hair.” I reached out and brushed my fingertip along her cheek. “And you have the same freckles. You could be her twin.” I leaned against the window again and closed my eyes, halfway wondering why she hadn’t started to drive again, but not caring to ask.

“Whose twin? Who do I look like?”

“Ellie. My best friend. She’s the only girl I haven’t struck out with. But she went out with my other friend tonight…on a date. And I’m pretty sure they had sex. Which means I’ve lost her forever.”

Finally, the car began to move again, and I grew lost in thoughts of what red light we were at, wondering where this girl lived. And then we rode in silence for what felt like eight hundred miles. At some point, I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, she was shaking me awake. I glanced around, completely disoriented, and realized we were in a garage.

“Hey, I have that same sign at my house.” I pointed to the one-way traffic sign screwed into the wall next to the door. But she didn’t seem to care. Instead, she hooked my arm over her shoulder, wrapped hers around me, and helped me pull myself out of the car.

With my eyes closed, leaning into her, I let her lead me to her room. When we reached the bed, I sat on the edge of the mattress and watched her lower herself to her knees between my legs. For some reason, I expected there to be some sort of conversation before we got started. That’s when I realized she hadn’t even given me her name.

“Wait…at least tell me what your name is.”

She finished taking my shoes off and then stood, her perfect breasts directly in my line of sight. “Ellie,” she said, knocking the wind out of me. “It’s me, Coby. Not a twin, not a stranger who looks like me. I’m Ellie.”

Nothing could’ve stopped me from wrapping my arms around her and pressing my cheek against her chest. Her strong heartbeats echoed in my ear as I held her tightly to me. “Why’d you go out with him? Why Gage?”

She ran her fingers through my hair but didn’t say a word while I fell apart with her in my arms. She simply embraced me, comforted me, and waited.

I pulled away just enough to see her face in the soft glow of the moon coming through the window behind me. I’d never seen something so beautiful in all my life. But it was that same beauty that broke me. That led me to the bar so I could numb the pain with alcohol.

“I love you, Ellie. God, I love you so much it hurts.”

She ran her knuckles down my face and sighed. “I want to hear you say that sober.”

And without another word, she pressed her lips to my forehead and left the room.

* * *

Waking up after a late night of pounding back liquor was bad enough, but nothing compared to the moment when reality came barreling into you in the form of memories of what had taken place during your drunken stupor. I should know. That happened to me about two minutes after I opened my eyes to the blinding sun shining through the slats in the blinds.

I groaned and covered my face, hoping that would make it all go away. But it didn’t. Nothing would erase the knowledge of what I did last night. If I had it my way, I’d stay in my room, beneath my covers, all day so I could avoid Ellie. I would bet my net worth that she’d try to discuss what had happened, but I’d be happy if we never mentioned it again. I didn’t exactly remember everything, but the bits and pieces that I could recall were enough to send me into permanent hibernation.

After thirty minutes of avoiding life, I crawled out of bed and dragged myself into the shower. Bar scent was bad enough, but add in alcohol sweat, and I was surprised I didn’t have a trail of flies behind me. Standing beneath the warm spray, more of last night came to me. And when I got out and finally found my phone, the majority of the missing pieces were filled in. I still didn’t have the full picture of all that had taken place, but it was enough to swear off Crown for life. Gage’s messages were still there, unread, but I didn’t have the stomach to open them. So I locked my phone and braced myself for the consequences of my actions.

I held my breath and opened my bedroom door, listening for signs of Ellie in the house. Everything was silent—which meant she was either still in bed or had left. Then I remembered something. I needed to retrieve my car, so I slowly padded through the living room toward the front door. My plan was to at least get outside before calling someone to pick me up, but I didn’t even make it past the couch before Ellie came around the corner.

She stood in the kitchen, I stood in the living room, and we stared at one another over the bar dividing the space. There was so much I needed to say, but nothing came out. I wanted to run, even though that wouldn’t solve anything. In the end, I found myself reaping what I’d sown. I’d made the bed, and now I had to lie in it.

“How are you feeling?” Just like that, as if nothing had happened last night, she slid right back into the role of my best friend with ease. Not even a hint of concern in her tone—other than for how I felt.

“Rough.”

“Here.” She grabbed a bottle of water and two pills off the counter and brought them to me. “I heard the shower come on, and I figured you’d need these, so I set them out for you.”

I took the medicine and swallowed them back with over half the bottle of water. I was about to thank her, then give my excuse for needing to leave, but she killed that idea when she spoke again.

“We need to talk, Coby.”

“It’ll have to wait. I need to go get my car.” And dignity.

“I already had that taken care of this morning. It’s in the garage. If you’re out of excuses to avoid this conversation, I’d like to get started.”

“There’s nothing to say, El. I believe I told you everything last night.”

“Really? Because from what I heard, it sounded like there’s a whole lot you didn’t say.”

“How’d you get my car here?”

She waved me off, her gaze dropping to my feet, which meant she wasn’t telling me something. I asked again, but she still refused to answer. When I repeated myself for the third time, I wasn’t so nice about it, basically demanding a response versus asking a question. That’s when she conceded and took a seat on the couch, never lifting her eyes to mine.

“Just tell me.” I sat next to her with a cushion between us, needing to be close, but also requiring some sort of distance. I knew what her answer would be, and even though I’d prepared myself for it, being too close to her when she admitted it would only make the punch in the gut worse. “You’re the one who said you thought we should talk about it…so let’s start with how you got my car back here when we left it in the parking lot of the bar last night.”

“I called Gage.”

The groan slipped out just as my head fell forward.

“What else was I supposed to do? Everyone I know lives in Northport. I couldn’t ask them to drive all the way here so I could get it. My family’s in DeArmanville. Aside from you, Gage was my only other option. And I wanted it to be here when you got up, so you didn’t have a reason to run off and avoid me all day.”

“You mean like how you did the day after we had sex last time?”

Her soft eyes met mine, and in them, I saw immense pain, maybe regret. Definitely remorse. “Yes. Exactly like that. But I left then because I needed to think. You can’t drop a bomb on me like you did last night and think I’d be okay with you disappearing for some undetermined amount of time.”

“Why do you get time to think but I don’t?”

“Because we need to talk, Coby.” Her words were filled with the tears absent from her eyes. But they were there. I couldn’t see them, though they were heard. “Do you even remember what you said to me in your texts?”

“I read through them this morning.”

“What about on the ride home? Do you remember any of that?”

“Mostly.”

“Then let’s start there. Tell me what you do remember, and I’ll fill you in on the rest.”

I groaned and fell back, wishing the couch could swallow me whole. “I’d rather not.”

“Fine. Have it your way. You told me how you strike out with women. How you get to—”

“I remember,” I roared, humiliation overriding the anger that burned just beneath the surface. “You don’t have to throw it back in my face.”

Without standing, she pulled herself closer, eliminating the distance between us, and cupped my cheek in her hand. “I’m not throwing it back in your face, Coby. I’m trying to get it all out so we can discuss it. This isn’t something we can pretend doesn’t exist.”

I wanted to grab her and pull her closer, feel her on me, against me, but I couldn’t. It was all too much to handle, and I feared the longer we stayed like this, her hand on my face, the harder I’d fall. The more broken I’d be in the end.

“Can we start with the flowers?”

This was a lot easier to avoid when I was drunk and her questions came in text. “I bought them on my way home from the game last night.”

“Okay…but why?”

“So I could talk to you about something. But when I got here, you were about to leave on your date. I told myself it was no biggie, that he’d take you to a drive-through and you’d be home within an hour. But you weren’t. So I got pissed and threw them out. End of story.”

“What was it you were going to talk to me about?”

I figured I didn’t have anything to lose at this point. I could’ve lied about the flowers, about my revelation after school, but I’d only be caught once she brought up my unfiltered confession from last night. If she planned to leave me, unable to deal with my feelings for her, she’d do it with or without the truth.

So I took a deep breath and told her everything.

“Missy asked me to hang out, but I turned her down. I didn’t understand why. Here was this woman who didn’t care that I used to play professional ball. She didn’t seem to have any personal interest in my net worth, and she never once acted like she had some ulterior motive to befriend me. Missy’s nice, sweet, pretty, everything I should look for in a woman, but I have no desire to interact with her outside of school. I spent all day wondering why, and then it hit me. She may be perfect, but not for me. The reason every attempt at being with any female—either physically or emotionally—has failed, is because they aren’t you.”

She didn’t say anything, simply sat close to me and let me speak.

“I’d never thought of you as more than my best friend because I’ve never allowed myself to go there. That’s what you’ve been to me my whole life. When you grow up calling a tennis shoe a sneaker, that’s what it is to you. What you call it doesn’t change what it is, but at the end of the day, you’ll never stop thinking of it as a sneaker. Over the past six months, something changed. I still thought of you as my best friend, but I started seeing you as something else. Something more.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I didn’t understand it? Or I was scared?”

“Scared? To talk to me?”

“No. Yes.” I shook my head and stood, needing space to think properly. I began to pace in front of the coffee table, my hands fisting my hair. “You freaked out after the last time we had sex. You said things like that ruin friendships, so why would I want to chance losing you? I’d rather keep my mouth shut and have you here every day than confess to something I wasn’t sure about and risk you leaving.”

“Are you sure about it now?”

“It’s not like I was unsure before…I just hadn’t admitted it to myself yet. But if I would’ve stopped and questioned why your relationship with Gage bothered me so much, I might’ve opened my eyes a lot sooner. The thought of you finding someone, falling in love, and moving out crippled me. And if I had allowed myself to analyze why, I would’ve seen it’s because I can’t live without you. I figured I felt that way because you’re my comfort zone, and if you left, it’d be like taking a blanket from a kid. But that’s not why.”

“So what is the reason?”

My heart thundered in my chest, slamming into my ribcage at uncontrollable speeds, like it was trying to break free for the first time in my life. “Not too long ago, you talked about our future. You said we’d be in our rocking chairs on your porch, watching our kids play on the train tracks. But the way you told the story, you had your family, and I had mine. You had your house, and I had mine. Except in my head, it was our porch, and those kids belonged to us—both of them. You’re my best friend, Ellie…but I no longer feel platonically about you.”

“So why were you so mad yesterday? Why not just tell me that when you came home?”

“You were leaving to go out on a date with Gage.”

“Yeah, because I’d lost a bet—it wasn’t like I wanted to go. Not to mention, I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested in him. So again…why were you so mad?”

“I know him, Ellie. I’m well aware of how he is with women. I’ve seen it time and time again. They say they don’t want anything to do with him, and then after five minutes under his spell, they’re throwing themselves at him. I can’t compete with that.”

“Why do you feel like that? What does he possibly have that you don’t?”

“Where do I begin? He’s got game, he clearly has no problems satisfying a woman, and I…”

“And you what?” she prodded, leaning forward on the edge of the cushion.

I stopped pacing and squared myself with her. I’d said it already—last night in the car. It wasn’t like she could’ve possibly forgotten. But that didn’t make it any easier to repeat. My voice shook with nerves and a twinge of anger when I said, “And I can’t satisfy you that way. I don’t have any experience, other than with you. My batting average is the same on and off the field, except when it comes to sex, I can’t blame my eyesight.”

“So you weren’t lying when you said you’ve only been with me those two times?”

“What reason would I have to lie about that? I’ve never admitted it to anyone before. It’s embarrassing. Emasculating.”

“Why?”

I huffed a humorless laugh. “I was a professional baseball player who couldn’t make it past third base with anyone other than his best friend…twice. I’m twenty-two years old. How is that not humiliating?”

Her lips split into an excited grin, further fueling my fire.

“See? And now you’re laughing at me.”

Her grin faltered, and when I finally paid attention to her eyes, I noticed the way they glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t care about your scorecard with other women, Coby. The only one that matters is the one you have with me. And considering you’re two for two, I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

She pushed off the couch and crossed the few feet to stand in front of me, eliminating every millimeter of space between us. She held my face and pulled my lips to hers, offering me the kind of comfort I so desperately needed but wasn’t sure I’d ever get from her again. At least, not that way.

But it didn’t last long enough.

“And I wasn’t laughing at you,” she whispered with our lips barely touching, our heated breaths mingling between us. “I was relieved.”

“At what?”

“That I’m not the only one with only two home runs under my belt.”

I couldn’t move. My fingers flexed over her hips while I replayed her words in my head. I had to have heard her wrong—or misunderstood. “You mean…two guys? As in Ryan and me?”

“No,” she breathed out. “Two times. One guy. You. Only you.”

This time, I did move. I pulled her against me until our bodies were pressed together so tightly, not even air could move between us, and then I claimed her mouth with mine. This kiss was harsher, deeper, longer. But when she whimpered, I softened it until it ended.

“Do you remember what you said to me before you fell asleep last night? After I took your shoes off? You hugged me and said…”

“I love you.”

She hesitated and slowly bit her bottom lip. “Yeah…that. You were drunk, so I—”

“I’m not right now. So believe me when I say it.” I brushed my lips from the corner of her mouth to her ear, where I whispered, “I love you so much it hurts.”