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ATTENTION ALL SEXY QUARTERBACKS! COVER YOUR GOODS! A GREEDY-EYED WOMAN IS IN THE HOUSE!
“You know,” she says, trying to grab my attention again, “you could just go ahead and save yourself the embarrassment and leave. Because when Nathan comes out here, I fully intend to ask him to make you leave. I’ve been patient so far, but the way you act toward him is super weird. You hang around him like a clingy piece of toilet paper.”
I’m not a threat to these women…until they make him choose. Then, I’m more threatening than a glitter bomb. I might not get to sleep in Nathan’s bed, but I do have his loyalty—and to Nathan, there’s nothing more important than that.
Kelsey squeals. “Are you kidding me right now?! Are you choosing her over me?” Okay, I don’t love her inflection. “Yes,” he says matter-of-factly.
I really wish he’d wear more clothes. It’s painful having to look at something so beautiful and never touch it.
Nathan was completely naked in that magazine. And although I own five copies, I’ve never been able to bring myself to look inside (the cover only shows him from the waist up). There are some boundaries you just can’t cross as friends. Nakedness is one of them.
His arm brushes against mine as he passes by me, and I wonder if it would be a breach of these boundaries if I plastered myself to his body like a barnacle.
To my left is a floor-to-ceiling three-million-dollar view of the ocean, but to my right is the view I would give my soul to see every day for the rest of my life. Obviously, Bree doesn’t know I feel this way about her.
And I, in case you are wondering, am an overeager puppy, begging for Bree to play with me—to always play with me.
And now…we’re both single. At the same time. And I’ve seen her naked. (That thought has nothing to do with anything, it just pops into my head randomly from time to time.)
” My teammates love Bree, call her the Sharks’ little sister. I refuse to ever call her that.
“Well, Magic 8 Ball, what do you think? Should I tell my best friend I love her?” I turn the ball over, and the message reads: Reply hazy, try again.
I’m a woman with very opinionated ovaries, and let me tell you, they’re real hussies.
If I start letting him help financially, if I move in with him, if I attend fancy events and partake in all the perks girlfriends get, I’ll get confused!
“What? Do you want to apologize now that you got caught? Now that you’re in trouble?” “No.” “No?!” Somehow that answer is even more infuriating. “I can’t apologize because I’m not sorry that I did it.” He’s so calm and collected. Mr. Cool Cucumber here to throw on his sunglasses and show us all up.
“Well, tough, friend. I have millions of dollars and I will spoil you with them if I want. You’re going to have to throw me off a bridge if you don’t want me meddling in your life, because that’s what friends do. So get used to it. Oh, and you’re getting a good deal on your damn rent from now on. So are the people in the pizza parlor below the studio.”
I wish he would stop making me love him more. It’s annoying.
“How are you not upset? I’m practically shaking with rage! I want to go put red ants in her underwear drawer! Put hot sauce in her coffee creamer! Duct-tape her car doors shut!” “Ooh, how devious. Do the feds know about you?”
“Your ding-a-ling is nobody’s concern!” Okayyyy, yep, time to go. “Well, my ding-a-ling and I thank you for that. What do you say we go home now?”
“Scared of what?” “Making the first move and it not being reciprocated. Y’all are stuck in a vortex of fear and miscommunication. Someone has to break through it first.”
“I don’t want a relationship with him, okay? Not unless he is the one to initiate it by declaring his undying love for me. Anything less will just end up as an epic failure, because no one—not even you—wants to be in a relationship where she’s not loved as fervently as she loves.”
“A-Are you sure? Do we need to talk more about this? Do you need more convincing? Because we’re such good friends it would practically be incest if we dated! Can you even imagine?!” She laughs weakly. My hand clenches at my side because, yes, I can imagine. And it looks nothing like incest to me.
I sigh at her obvious attempts to neutralize the situation. I’m so tired of neutral. I’m ready to provoke the hell out of something.
Nathan has the same thought I do, and we both turn sharply at each other and yell, “I call it!” I point at him. “I said it first!” He rolls his eyes. “Not even close. It was a tie.” No way in hell am I losing out on this creepy board. “Why do you need it? Look around, buddy—it doesn’t go with your decor in the least.” He lifts a brow. “And it goes with yours?” “No…” I narrow my eyes and pretend to be a contractor, measuring it with my fingers. “But it is the perfect size to hide that big crack in my bedroom wall.” He shakes his head. “We’ll settle this the right way: a thumb war.” I scoff.
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We’re both quiet for a few beats, processing and reprocessing until we can make sense of this nonsensical information. All I can think is 1) I’m not in trouble, yay! 2) Nathan’s thumb is still touching my skin. 3) An emphasis on number two.
“And after the commercial?” Nathan asks with one tiny sideways glance at me. “Break up, get married, whatever…it’s up to you.”
it means I have to date my best friend. Could I handle crossing this friendship line and come back from it unscathed in the end? I’m skeptical.
I swallow a sudden burst of butterflies. “Then, yeah! Let’s do this thing. It’ll be easy-peasy. Maybe even fun.” I watch with a sinking feeling as Nathan’s head tilts ever so slightly and a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s a look I’ve never seen before, like I just got duped by a card shark when I thought I was playing Go Fish against a toddler. He hands me the pen. “Oh, it’ll definitely be fun. I’ll make sure of it.”
Price skews up his face. It’s a little overdramatic, but Jamal is still buying it. “I don’t get it. Nate’s a quarterback—he’s not going to be able to play defense.” Jamal blinks approximately twenty times and then sighs. “It’s just a metaphor!” I shake my head. So defeated. “But he’s right, I’m shit on defense. What if I’m no good metaphorically either?” “It’s not the same!” He’s clutching that dry-erase marker like he’s squeezing a lemon.
“Alright, time to get serious. First of all, Nate doesn’t need sexual experience in this situation. He needs romantic experience. And he definitely needs more than one very obscure play to show Bree there could be something between them besides just friendship. He needs a whole…” His words trail off as he finishes his sentence by writing ROMANCE CHEAT SHEET on the board.
“This is romance, men. Not football. We can’t use play fakes and little Xs and Os to portray an entire relationship. And no vague metaphors. What we need are words.” The guys all hiss. He just told them they have to dress up in suits and attend a cotillion.
“Forget his weird winking. You need to brush a stray hair away,” says Price. I look at him. “Expound.” “Don’t you watch movies? You gotta wait until a piece of her hair falls into her face and then use your fingers to brush it back from her temple. Here, watch.” He leans forward and demonstrates on me, looking deep into my eyes then slowly brushing an imaginary lock of hair behind my ear. “Damn,” says Lawrence. “I felt that all the way over here.” I point at the board. “Write it down.”
I’m not trying to work my way into Bree’s bed; I’m trying to show her that I want a relationship with her. I want to be committed to her in a way I’ve never been with anyone else.
As Lawrence flips the whiteboard, Price tells us all to act natural. So of course, the second Bree rounds the corner, I hop up on the table, Jamal rests his elbow on the wall and leans his head on his hand, and Lawrence just plops down on the floor and pretends to stretch. Derek can’t decide what to do so he’s caught mid-circle. We all have fake smiles plastered on. Our acting is shit. Bree freezes, blinking at the sight of each of us not acting at all natural. “Whatcha guys doing?”
I can barely find her in all that material, and yet she’s still the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Just her presence in this room feels like finally getting hooked up to oxygen after days of not being able to breathe deeply.
She laughs and tries to look around me. I pretend to stretch so she can’t see. “It doesn’t look like nothing. What? Are you guys drawing boobies on that board or something? You look so guilty.” “Ah—you caught us! Lots of illustrated boobs drawn on that board. You don’t want to see it.”
Trying to gain some sort of composure before we have to run out, I shut my eyes again and think of Bree. I see her wide smile and I hear her bubbling laugh. I tell myself that in roughly five hours, I’ll be flying home and I’d bet my entire fortune she will be there waiting. She’ll throw her arms around my waist and squeeze. It’ll be quiet there. My chest loosens a little.
“Yep! Good to go. Dylan is taking good care of me.” Nathan’s dark eyes glint. “Not too good, I hope. That’s my job—and according to what I just heard, I’m doing it really well.”
She can make digs about my game or nutrition or looking pudgy in a magazine spread all she wants, but I won’t put up with a single word against Bree. “Oh honey, don’t fool yourself. That girl has been interfering with your success since you were in high school. I saw you almost throw it all away for her back then, and I won’t watch you do it a second time.”
“First, she’s a woman, not a girl. Second, yeah, if she would have let me, I would have stayed home for her in a heartbeat back then. I still would. Football will never be as important to me as she is, so you can either support my relationship with Bree or forfeit a relationship with me. Your call, but just know I won’t budge on this.”
“Oh my gosh. Why do you live here?” He looks around like cockroaches might be crawling all around him. Actually, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if they were. I laugh and turn to unlock my apartment. “It’s a little thing called money. You see, I don’t have much of it.” “Umm, you’re basically dating a bank. He probably has more money than a bank actually. Go move in with him! Here, I’ll help you. We’ll pack your things and move right now.”
no. Everything feels right, and lovely, and exciting. I’m scared. I’m scared because I want to go more than anything. I’m scared because I’m so looking forward to walking beside Nathan tonight and holding his hand. I’m scared because all these feelings I’ve kept at bay for so long are pelting me like a hailstorm.
“It’s just me. Me and you. Nathan and Bree Cheese. Kissing won’t change that.” It’ll make all those things better. The heaviness in her expression lightens, and she smiles. “You’re right. It’s just a kiss. No big deal.” Well, that’s not exactly what I meant.
I give Bree one quick nod. She nods back, and we’re really doing this. Together. It’s my dream come true, and I only hope this doesn’t end up being Bree’s nightmare.
I’m suddenly aware that I want this too much. That my hands are gripping the fabric of my dress. This is going to change everything, and I WANT that. I want Nathan like this. Not friendly. A little dangerous. A little taunting. A lot sexy.
“You know what I’ve realized? It’s time to hope for more with Nathan, because hope is healthy. Even if I prepare myself for the worst in life, it will never make the fall hurt less.” Her mouth falls open in shock, and then she smacks my arm. “I’M THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU THAT.” I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t think so.” “Yes. It was me.” “I think it was an inspirational graphic on Instagram.” “IT WAS YOUR GENIUS BIG SISTER!”
You might be wondering if I’m nervous about tonight and the prospect of finally making out with the woman I’ve loved since I was seventeen. Nah, I’ve gone out with so many women, and—YES I’M FREAKING OUT. My palms are so sweaty I can barely turn the steering wheel. My heart is hitting my ribs so hard they’re cracking. I’m sure she can hear it. Probably thinks it sounds like I’m crinkling candy wrappers, but nope, it’s just my bones disintegrating. I’m hoping to cross some major lines with my best friend tonight, and if she doesn’t reciprocate, if she still sees me as a brother after this, I’m
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She swallows audibly. “Stay with me, please.” I grin. “Always.”
She finally looks up at me, and there’s something there. Something new. Something sparking and inviting, and I’m not just imagining it, right? I dare to find out what it is. “This is okay?” I ask. She lifts a coy shoulder with a small grin—flirtatious. ALSO NEW! “I mean, sure. But just know that if you’re going to act possessive in public, I will too.” She goes up on her toes to kiss my jaw. My heart stops. In that tiny little kiss, there was a country-sized amount of meaning.
That small kiss was a checkered flag, and not once tonight has Bree made a single move to remind me of the friend zone. No brother, amigo, BFF, or incest references. No, right now, her eyes have fire in them, and there’s no way I’m going to pretend it’s not there.
