But then my libido takes a backseat, and my brain kicks back on. I’ve been replaying in my head how this conversation would go for the past three months, and I won’t miss my opportunity. Not now. I can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t address the elephant in the room. I take a deep breath and meet his eyes. “You really don’t remember what happened between us do you? The night you guys beat Detroit in game seven last season ...” He looks down at the ground between our feet. “Yeah,” his voice comes out strained. “I remember.” Wait. What?
