After Nina’s appearance during lunch, our conversation took a turn for the more impersonal. We caught up on frivolous things—the things not close to our hearts but the things that would make us feel ‘up to date’ on each other’s lives. Amy had moved back to Chicago after college and started work for a sports PR firm. I sensed that I was only getting a small portion of the full story but with Amy, I’d have to be patient. She did admit that something felt off in her life, though, and why she had decided to come to Barcelona even though David had bailed on her. We sauntered back home, taking our time and letting Jess sniff to her heart’s content as we walked along the marina.

“Sorry about our interruption at lunch. That was awkward,” I said. “Nina and I went on one date a while ago. I didn’t like her though.” I paused. “Honestly, I don’t remember a thing about what she said about herself, or anything. We didn’t mesh at all, so it was a pretty short-lived relationship. If you could even call it that.”

“Oh yeah?” Amy shot me a look that conveyed she was not impressed by my latest dating mistake. “Did you sleep with her? No, you know what, don’t bother answering that. I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”

Her words had knives in them, and I wasn’t too sure where the animosity was coming from. I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sensing some judgment coming from you.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know, Chandler. I’m hungover. And not in a good mood. And seeing you with her reminded me of something.”

“And what was that?” I asked her, sharply.

“It reminded me that I’ll never…” She trailed off and once again, I knew I’d only get to hear half of it. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

We arrived at my apartment and walked up the stairs to the third floor. “You’ve been saying that a lot this morning,” I returned, unleashing Jess so she could go take her own nap. “About how something you’re about to say is silly or stupid.”

“I’m going to take a nap. Do you mind?” she asked, ignoring me instead.

“Course not,” I returned, not wanting to upset her more. I was really hoping this David guy hadn’t permanently damaged her self-confidence because the Amy I’d come to appreciate didn’t take crap from anyone. “I’m about to head to basketball practice anyway so it’ll be nice and quiet.”

She assessed the living room. “Is the couch comfortable?”

“Not at all.” I gestured for her to follow me. “This is my room,” I said, heading toward my room and flipping on the light since the blinds were shut. I looked around, seeing that Maria had cleaned up.

“Your room…?” Amy echoed slowly. “You want me to sleep in…your…bed?”

I looked over at her. “Why not?” I smiled. “And it looks like Maria changed the sheets for me. This room was a mess when I left.”

“You mean…as in, Doña Maria?” she asked, confused.

“Yep. We’ve always stayed in contact,” I replied. At hearing those words, the irony of it hit us both.

Amy, of course, ignored that, too. “She changes your sheets now?” she asked, aloof.

“When I’m gone she watches Jess at her apartment, then walks her back here so she can greet me the morning I get home,” I explained. On cue, Jess trotted after us but then lost interest in us and trotted back out. “Maria knows how much I hate flying home to an empty apartment. And sometimes she does some other homey stuff around the place.”

“Nice of her.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said. “Too she bad left the city this afternoon for the next few weeks or we could have a reunion. She’s going to a part of Spain with her boyfriend that’s pretty rural and poor reception; otherwise, I’d call her up. I know she’d love to see you after all this time…”

“Oh? That would have been nice, actually,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “how is she?”

“Just had a baby boy in December,” I said, shaking my head but grinning. “Can you believe it, at her age? That guy from five years ago. Match made in heaven, I guess.”

I don’t think Amy was paying attention to anything I was saying about our former host mother because she was yawning non-stop. I pulled the sheets and comforter back for her.

“Well, I’m going to head to bed,” she said, sounding exhausted. “This time change is killing me. You’re not tired?”

“A little. I’ll go to practice, then come home and crash most likely.” I headed to the door. Over my shoulder I added, “Have a good nap.”

Saying nothing, she collapsed on the bed, not bothering to shut the door. I refilled Jessica’s water and peaked in the fridge. Doña Maria had left some Spanish tortilla inside as well as a note.

For my special little boy.

She babied me, but I didn’t mind it. And her Spanish tortilla was second to none in my book. I walked over to my room to let Amy know about the food in case she was hungry when she woke up.

“Hey Amy, if—”

She was dead passed out, with the lights still on, holding onto one of my pillows for a cuddle partner.

“All right then. Goodnight.”

She looked so damn peaceful sleeping there. In my bed. It’s a Cal King and we’d both fit on it just fine. I tried not to keep thinking things like that but I couldn’t help it. Sex wasn’t the only thing I thought about when it came to this woman but it sure as hell took precedence over everything else sometimes. With Amy passed out, I quietly grabbed my workout clothes and changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt in my bathroom. Before I left, I took off her shoes, tucked her in, and wrote her a little note for when she woke up. With that, I picked up my bag from the closet and headed to practice.

***

“We’re playing Serbia tomorrow,” our head coach said in his accented English. The twelve of us huddled before practice. “They are a powerhouse, and it’s not going to be easy. But if we can beat them, it shows we’re one of the best teams in the league. If not the best.” He paused, then looked at Tony. “What’s our strategy Le Ral?”

Tony Le Ral, our resident Frenchmen, answered, “We need to score from the outside, establish the three-point game early.”

“Exactly. Spiros, this is a big game for you tomorrow,” he said, turning to me. “We need you to come ready to shoot tomorrow. Can you handle that?”

“One hundred and ten percent, Coach.”

I looked around at our motley crew of guys, hailing from all parts of Europe and me, the lone American, and had to smile a little. I wasn’t short by normal standards, but at six feet three inches I was the shortest guy in the bunch. We had a seven footer from Morocco. Le Ral was six feet seven. The Spaniards were all in the six foot eight range. Yet I was the guy who our offensive scheme lived and died by. It was a lot of pressure, but I had always fed off it.

“All right, let’s break into drills,” Coach said.

After a few hours of sweating, running, scrimmaging, and being yelled at by our coaches, we broke for the showers.

“All right fellas. That’s a wrap,” Coach boomed.

I was heading towards the locker room with Le Ral at my side when Coach waved me over. “Yeah, Coach?” I asked, a little antsy to get going. I hoped to God that Amy didn’t suddenly wake up and get proactive about finding a hotel. I was really hoping I’d get to come home with her still there.

“So Spiros,” he said, grabbing me by the arm. “What the hell happened out there today?”

I frowned, a little confused. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“You were playing inspired today,” Coach said, his accent thicker then usual, which only happened when he got agitated, or excited. “Like you had something to lose, for once. Usually you play well, but I haven’t seen you that energetic all season.”

Not exactly a rave review of my performance this year but I knew where he was coming from.

“Not sure what got into me,” I said, evading his indirect question. I definitely had a theory about what had me so worked up today. I didn’t think my coach wanted to hear some drawn out story about how the one girl that got away had suddenly chanced her way back into my life, though, so I stayed silent.

“Well, whatever it is, keep it up.” Coach was grinning. I just nodded as he slapped me hard on the back. “We’re going to need that energy for this Friday’s game. See you tomorrow.”

* * *

“Hi? Amy? I’m home.” My voice echoed through my apartment as I rattled the door open. Jessica ran up to greet me but she had more important duties to attend to: scraps falling on the floor.

I smiled, inhaling deep. Smells of home cooking filled the air. On occasion, Maria would cook for me but it was somehow different with Amy at the helm.

“Hey you.” Amy’s sweet voice came from the direction of my kitchen.

“Hey there,” I returned. I tossed my bag to the side of the door and noticed that her suitcase was no longer nearby but mine still was. I walked over to where she and Jess were. She was turned away from me, facing the stove, and I took a full few seconds to register that the sexy woman I was staring at was Amy. “You rest up?”

“Yeah, I slept really well. Is that memory foam?”

“Yeah.”

Amy continued cooking, and I couldn’t turn away. Her black yoga pants hugged her hips. She wore a light blue t-shirt, and her hair was made up in a messy bun. Did she always have such a beautiful, round ass? How had I never noticed the extent of this before?

I questioned it in my own head as I stood a few feet away from her. Right here, right now, my cock was urging me to grab her from behind and lay kisses from her neck to her shoulder.

I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, trying to snap myself out of whatever this daydream was.

Self control, Spiros. Self Control.

She turned around, spatula in her hand.

“Everything okay?” she asked. She squinted at me.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking about something my coach said.” You know, about how I was loaded with energy today.

As Amy came back into focus, she caught me staring right at her tits. I could see her nipples through her shirt and I didn’t look away.

I know, but can you blame a guy? She had on a low V-neck top, basically daring me to look at them.

I glanced up at her face. Her look told me everything. Amy wasn’t dumb.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” I said, in my defense.

“Glad you noticed.” She smiled at me then turned back to the stove, as if my comment wasn’t a big deal. “You really take note everything about me, don’t you?”

“Can’t help it. By the way, that’s a nice, uh, pendant you have there. A pizza necklace?”

“I’m surprised you happened to catch that while you were staring at my tits.” She cocked her head over her shoulder at me, smirking at me.

There was no use lying to this woman. Plus, I wasn’t much of a bullshitter anyway. So I might as well full on embrace what we both knew was true.

“Fine, Squirt. You caught me gawking at your boobs. I admit it.” I took a few steps toward her so we were only a foot apart. “I should bring up the time I caught you staring at my junk after you hid in the shower to try and stalk me.”

“Oh, that’s how it went down?” She spun around and grinned. “Bringing up the past, are we? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who forgot to knock.”

I crossed my arms and fired back at her with my own shit-eating grin. “And the impasse continues. I guess we’ll never know who wanted to see who naked that fateful morning.”

She caught my glance, and we stared at each other for a beat more than we had to.

How many times had we done this dance? I saw what she wanted in her eyes—me—and I don’t hide the fact that I want her. Then, now…here.

I felt my cock twitch in my jeans.

Fuck, that damn dirty mind of mine.

“So.” I changed the subject, looking over her shoulder. “Making some Spanish tortilla?”

“Your favorite.” She brushed her hand along my shoulder and bicep. It was a tiny gesture, but from her it seemed like more. I wanted more of her touch.

“You remember I like Spanish tortilla?”

She turned around and shifted the sizzling eggs and potatoes in the pan. I could feel the warmth coming from her direction, and I wasn’t sure if it was from Amy or the stove. “As I recall, you like it with a heavy egg ratio with more eggs then potatoes, because it aids your recovery for basketball. Is that right?”

“Holy shit, just marry me now,” I joked. Although I never wanted to get married, I was becoming more and more curious what it would be like to date her. Friendship Pact be damned.

She paused before laughing. “What a crazy idea,” she deflected, her eyes glancing down into the pan. “Although, we would have great kids. Sexy ones.”

“Yes, we would,” I said. And for a second, I wondered what our kids would look like. I shook my head at myself. “But I’d make a terrible dad.”

She glanced over at me, her expression shuttered. Here I was, being all clueless with this one. Why was it the ones you really liked were the ones you couldn’t figure out? When it came to Amy, it was like all the rules I thought I knew about bedding women went flying out the window. She was a tough nut to crack. All I had was one, ten second kiss five years ago that had given me any small hope that she really thought of me like that.

She spoke again. “You’ve got some low marriage standards if all I’ve got to do is remember what food you like—”

“Maybe we have equally low standards,” I said, cutting her off and staying far away from the topic of marriage as possible. I lightly tapped my fingers on the countertop.

She gave an awkward and equally forced laugh before giving the Spanish tortilla one more pat in the pan with the spatula. “I guess we really are perfect for each other, two people with low expectations.” With her spatula, she pointed to me. Jess’s eyes were riveted but no crumbs feel from it. “It’s almost done. Ready to sit down and eat?”

I nodded.

“Great. Where is your dinner table?” she asked, pointedly glancing around my bachelor pad.

“Cute,” I said dryly. “That’s real cute, Squirt. Jessica and I are a ‘dinner on the couch’ kind of household.”

“Well then, couch it is!” she sing-songed, having found the plates and silverware and plated the food.

We sat down on the couch and chowed down. It was delicious. Way better then my cooking, and even better then Maria’s, and I loved her cooking. Jess settled near me, whining. I tried not to feed her too much human food but I couldn’t hold out and gave her a little bit to keep the whining down to a minimum. I glanced over at Amy, watching us with an amused expression.

“You know, you’re really giving me the full girlfriend experience,” I observed.

“Don’t worry, it’s only temporary,” she said, swallowing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style. But besides that…” She trailed off.

“Besides what?”

“Well, we still have the pact, and I’m actually glad for it. I think we both know it’d be a disaster,” she answered, picking at her food.

I nodded my head in agreement but I didn’t agree at all. Of course she’d remember the pact. Were we really still talking about some silly drunken accord we’d made five years ago not to fuck?

Just when we got comfortable and I thought I could actually honor our pact, the goddamn elephant in the room made itself known and we both realized that our bantering could easily turn sexual. More to the point, I still enjoyed just being around Amy as much as I had when we were in college. That flow between us was still there but our friendship had never been easy. Charged, electrical, potent but so far from any friendship I’d ever had. In some ways, that made me think sex with her would be even better. And more dangerous. But that didn’t mean I was afraid of the possibilities like she was.

“I mean, that’s the only reason we’re still friends now,” she said, breaking into my thoughts, and really trying to sell it to me. “It’s why we’re able to sit on this couch five years after we initially met. If not, I would just be somebody you used to know. Another one of your Ninas that you’d awkwardly dismiss when you were out to eat with your real friends.”

I felt a little gutted at hearing that. “Hey, hey. Stop,” I said, ignoring my dinner for a minute to give her my full attention. “There is no way you’d ever fall into the category that she’s in. Even if we did hook up, or date.”

She gave me a look as she took a big bite of her Spanish tortilla.

“I mean, we would never do…that…” I continued, finishing off my thought.

“Because of the pact,” she added.

“Right.”

We both looked down at our plates. Fuck, this was stupid, us just talking around what we both were really talking about. The selfish part of me kept thinking that if we just got it out our system, that maybe we’d both be the better for it. Then there was this crippling fear that I’d lose her for good if we did hook up and it did unforeseen damage that I couldn’t even fathom right now. On the other hand, who the hell cared at this point? We hadn’t really been in each others’ lives for the past five years in any meaningful way. We had both chosen to disconnect and avoided each other because we had meant something to each other, not that we forgot about each other. It was clear we remembered everything about our time back in college. When she left me again next weekend, would it be another five, ten years before our paths crossed again, if ever? If we had to take the chance of losing each other for good, maybe it would be worth the risk.

We ate in silence for a few moments. After five seconds more, I couldn’t stand it and I turned the TV on to fill the silence. But that just made me even more restless. Normally, I’d be into watching a Euroleague game and see how my competition was doing, but I could care less. It made my restlessness worse.

“I’m done, let me get your plate,” I said, unsettled and a little pissed at myself and Amy and this damn ‘pact’. I needed to be doing something other then just sit here, next to her, close but so out of reach.

“Uh, excuse me?” she asked, her eyes darting from the TV to me, almost reluctantly.

“In the Chandler and Jessica household we don’t have a lot of rules,” I relayed to her, “but one we do have is, ‘you cooked so I’ll take your plate to the dishwasher’.”

Finally, I got a smile and it eased my tension a smidge. “I like this household.”

“Well, maybe I’ll keep you around for a little while.” I winked at her, taking her plate and standing up.

As I headed toward the kitchen, she said, “I should probably find a hotel soon. I’ll bet Jessica doesn’t like sharing you with other girls.” She added the last sentence with more force, and once again, brought up the fact that yeah, there had been ‘other girls’.

Plates clinked on the island as I scraped them off. I glanced over, watching Jess love her up. Another first for my pooch. Amy was correct on the preferences of my dog—she usually did dislike the women I brought up here. Either Jess had some weird skillsets I’m just discovering or she sensed my attitude toward Amy was somehow different. Amy, still petting Jess, looked up at me just then and I realized I hadn’t said anything in return for too long.

“You can stay here for as long as you need, Amy—I mean it. It’s the least an old friend can do.” I could see my logic was working on her. Thank god one head was functioning properly. Before she could refuse or even think about it, I switched topics. “So tell me more about this PR stuff that you’ve been up to.”

Bingo. Her face lit up. “I was working for a PR firm for a while, but my boss was a lying, cheating gutless dick, so my friend Andrea and I left and opened our own Public Relations firm with some seed money. We’ve been specializing in baseball players for now, so it’s sort of the off season for us in January. But we’re hoping to expand in other markets, not just sports since I’m not all as knowledgeable in that area like Andrea is.”

My jaw dropped as I loaded up the dishes. “You started your own PR company?”

“Yeah, a few months ago.”

“Holy shit! Congrats, Squirt. Ya done good,” I said, impressed. “We should celebrate. What kind of wine do you want, Malbec or Sauvignon Blanc?”

I grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and pointed at the wine rack.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She put a finger on her lower lip. “Are you sure you want to waste a bottle on me? Shouldn’t you be saving that for the Ninas you have over?”

“Okay. I see how it’s going to be,” I said, but I was kind of glad to be back in our typical roles. Much safer, less dirty thoughts, and no bouts of despair. “I’m grabbing the Malbec, because I know it’s your favorite after that trip you took to Mendoza. And if you’re not okay with that, well, I guess I’ll just drink the whole bottle.”

I sat down on the couch, uncorked the bottle, and filled two glasses. Amy crossed her arms and watched me as I poured. I set one glass in front of her, then stuck my nose in the other glass and swirled it around.

“Mmm. I love those tannins. They’re so…rich.” I nodded, very happy with my choice of adjective.

“Shut up,” she said with a smile. “You have no idea what tannins are.”

“Maybe not, but neither does anyone else.” I took a sip. “Mmm. Damn. Now those are some exquisitely sexy tannins.” I picked up her glass and held it in front of her, with an arched eyebrow and a smiled.

She snatched the glass from me, and took a sip of the red liquid. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring it. “That is delicious. No doubt. I can’t believe you remembered that story about Argentina. I don’t even remember mentioning that to you.”

“Well, I did remember.” I held back, saying just that. I didn’t want to tell her I remembered every fucking detail about her. How she looked when she stood in my doorframe fingering herself. How she smelled when I tasted her for a sweet couple of moments on the day I left Doña Maria’s.

She sighed. “Goddamn it, Chandler. I’ve had it with men. Especially men like you. Winning me over with your charming ways,” she grumbled.

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head. “Guys like me…? You’ve never been with me,” I pointed out.

“Exactly. But if we didn’t have the pact, you’d probably be an asshole to me for not falling under your spell.”

I laughed, loudly. “You’re killing me Squirt. You really are killing me. You’ve probably had more boyfriends then you’re letting on. They can’t all have been that bad.”

She took a sip of her wine, set it down, faced me on the couch, and made a fist. “Okay, where should I start? Hmmm. Luke, my high school boyfriend—he’d get super jealous when I wore so much as a skirt, and wouldn’t let me talk to other guys at parties.” She let out her forefinger as a number one. “Scott, my college boyfriend—well I told you all about him and his trust issues.”

“And how he watched way too much porn.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know that, too?”

“You told me.”

“Five years ago. Good memory.”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I’d given away too much. “Anyways, sorry to interrupt.”

She started up slowly, eying me almost suspiciously. “Well, good listening skills, I guess. I was saying how my post-college boyfriend, Jack, was nice enough, but all he wanted to do was play video games. Then there was David, and you know all that already. Other then Scott, he was the worst of the four, by the way.”

When Amy was done, she had the four fingers on her little hand extended. “None of those guys even knew how to dance. They all sucked, in the end, and if A equals B and B equals C, then A equals C, which means I also suck. By Transitive Property of Equality, I suck, Chandler. Math doesn’t lie. It’s the only reasonable conclusion I’ve come to. There is no other explanation for all my failed relationships.”

I stared at Amy. She’d always been a little too analytical and regimented in her reasoning skills—take the pact for example—and her list of reasons. I’d always thought of Amy as having elements of a Type A personality but something else was off with that assessment that I’d never been able to figure out. I also recalled that getting her to relax around me had been difficult at times, but once she did, we just clicked.

“You’ve really put some thought into this,” I said. “And I’m sorry for that. I get that you’ve had shitty boyfriends. But TPE?”

“If I’m dating guys who suck, and by the law of attraction, I also suck.” She reached for her wine glass again, swirling the liquid absentmindedly.

“That’s bullshit. You are the definition of amazing.”

She didn’t flinch, indicating she wasn’t even remotely convinced. Christ, had all these guys really been that bad, or maybe Amy was just that hard on herself? “Am I, really Chandler?” she asked, almost rhetorically. “Then why do I attract these shit guys?”

“None of those guys even danced?” I repeated that detail to her. I needed an in.

“No, they didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm, and my jaw tightened. “I danced more with you that one night we went to the salsa club than I ever have with any of my boyfriends.”

I took another slow sip of my wine and let her words linger in the air for a moment. “Fuck that.” I said, finishing my wine off. “Squirt, I have an important question.”

She looked at me, all serious. “What?”

“Do you have your dancing shoes?”

Her eyes lit up like a puppy about to go for their first walk after being cooped up in a cage for a year.

“Yes.”

“Get them.”

“Get them?”

“I said, get your dancing shoes, and get your ass ready for a night on the town. We’re going fucking dancing.”

“You want to take me dancing?!” At last, happiness radiated from her. I felt a rush of happiness at seeing her smile. Maybe it was TPE in action again.

“Do you have all your stuff?”

“Yes! You’re the best!” She scooched across the couch and hugged me, pressing her cheek against mine. “I’ll go get ready,” she whispered, and that was the last straw. An instaboner sprung forth in my pants like a sunflower breaking ground on a fine spring morning. I was going to have to stay seated while this thing went down.

She jumped up. “I’ll wear my nice dress.” She smiled, then took a few steps toward my room where she probably had her things. “You changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, or just going to go in that?”

I laughed. “Of course not. You really do have to up your boyfriend standards, don’t you?”

“Well, if you’re going to change, then why are you just sitting there?” she asked. “You can get your clothes from your room before I change, if you want.”

“That’s okay, I kind of wanted to finish watching this game,” I said, glad for an excuse. “I get ready quick, anyways.”

She shrugged and left me alone.

I tried to imagine a whole ten days with her. Here. With me. Especially at night. Sure, I’d keep the pact. We would stay friends.

I closed my eyes and thought of my great uncle Albert. Finally, my boner went down.

If I could manage to keep my hands off her for even a week, then I was cured, right? No more lustful fantasies or boners to worry about.

I opened my eyes, staring off. Yeah, I was so screwed, and I did this to myself, this self-torture. I turned the TV off and stood up. Whatever I felt or was thinking, I was determined that tonight I was going to give Amy a night that she’d never forget.