by Sarah Adams
“Yeah, but I woke up super early this morning with a charley horse in my calf and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I went ahead and got it.” I hope he buys my fib.
Truth is, I couldn’t sleep because I broke up with my boyfriend last night and I’m dreading telling Nathan. Why? Because I know he’ll prod me with questions until he finds out the truth behind the breakup. And he can’t know that I broke up with Martin because Martin isn’t Nathan.
Maybe if I’d squinted, plugged my ears, and wobbled my head side to side, I might have been able to trick myself into thinking it was him. But who wants to live like that? It’s not fair to me or Martin. So now, the goal is to find a man who attracts me more than Nathan does. A real bug-zapper of a man is what I’m looking for. This time I won’t settle for anything less than complete and total smittenness.
Nathan lifts one of his thick brows. “Probably should’ve eaten a banana before bed last night.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but my answer is still the same: I hate bananas. They’re so squishy, and they taste like…bananas.”
“Doesn’t matter. Clearly your potassium is—”
Kelsey clears her throat, and that’s when we notice her massive scowl. “Excuse me. Is it not odd to you that she is here at 6:30 in the morning with coffee and donuts when you have your girlfriend over?”
Again with that G word. And okay, yeah, maybe I should have realized Kelsey would be over this morning, and I should have waited for Nathan to meet me with the coffee and donuts. That’s my bad. Sometimes I forget Nathan and I don’t have a particularly normal friendship.
Nathan clears his throat lightly. “Sorry, Kelsey, I just thought you remembered Tuesdays are always my running days with Bree.”
“Yup.” She rolls her eyes and pops the p sound. “How could I forget when it happens EVERY SINGLE TUESDAY. Literally your only morning off during the season.”
This feels like a private conversation I shouldn’t be here for. Actually, I kinda agree with her. It’s weird that Nathan and I are such good friends. I’ve tried to take myself out of the equation many times before so he could spend more time with his girlfriend, but he never allows it. If I were his girlfriend, though, I would be very territorial with free time.
Tuesdays in the NFL are off days for nearly every team. But here’s the secret sauce that not all players realize: The best ones still go into the training facility on their off days. They use the extra time to focus on their weaknesses, meet with physical therapists, review old game tapes—anything that will help them excel above the rest. Nathan never sits Tuesdays out, but he does go in a little later so we can have our run together in the morning.
“Can’t you take, like, this one morning off?” She is overexaggerating every single word, and I don’t know how he handles her voice.
Nathan’s brows dip, and he folds his arms. I want to slowly scoot out of the room because I know what’s going to happen next.
“Not really. I need a good run to shake off that bad game before I go train today.”
Kelsey’s mouth falls open. “Bad game? Babe, you won! What are you even talking about?”
In unison, Nathan and I both say, “Two interceptions.”
Yikes. Kelsey did not like that. Her eyes narrow down into scary little slits. “Cute. See what I mean? This is not a normal friendship. And you know what? I’m done competing with whatever this is. It’s time you”—Don’t say it, Kelsey!—“choose. It’s either me or her.”
She blinks several times, and I turn around to give Kelsey some privacy in this moment of loss. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the insignificant, minuscule relationship that was Nathan and Kelsey.
“Kelsey…I told you up front I wasn’t looking for anything serious right now, and you said you were good with that…” Nathan pauses.
Gosh, I hate this for him, I really do. It kills him to deliver breakup lines, because he’s a giant, rock-solid teddy bear. I wish I could do it for him, but I have a feeling I’d just get a cast iron skillet to the face.
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.
Flames burst from the top of her head. “You cannot honestly tell me you’re not sleeping with her then!”
“He’s not, believe me,” I say. Then I worry it came out sounding a little too bitter, so I add, “Really. Just friends. We’d be horrible together. We’re more like brother and sister.” Bleh, that tasted bad on my tongue.
His chin tilts down to me, and it takes him a second, but he smiles. “Yeah. We’ve never…” His voice trails off and I see him swallow because it’s difficult for him to even picture us together in that way. “Been friends with benefits.”
Never. Not once. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. A peck on the cheek is the closest I’ve gotten to any action with Nathan, which is why I know he’s not into me. A man who is head over heels for a woman doesn’t keep his hands to himself on movie night for six years straight. And Nathan and I always keep our hands to ourselves.
So now, I work as hard as I can to prove to him that I’m SO GOOD with this friend thing. Because, honestly, I am. Would I love to marry him and have his giant muscular babies? Yes. In a heartbeat. But it’s not in the cards for us, and I’ll be damned if I ruin our friendship by making things weird when he finds out I’m crushing on him while he already has the number of the next model he plans to date halfway dialed into his phone.
The bigger problem is that I know if I told him how I really feel, he’d humor me because he truly does care about me as a friend. He’d give it the old college try, might date me for a few weeks, but then he’d move on to someone he actually felt chemistry with, and I’d be out a best friend. Not worth it.
Yeah—I’m good like this.
I’ll eventually find someone who is just as great as Nathan.
(Probably not.)
“Right. Well, then…enjoy your weird friendship. Because I’m leaving.” Kelsey pauses a minute, but I don’t hear footsteps. I think she’s waiting for him to stop her. This is awkward for everyone. “I really am. Right now. I’m walking out that door for good, Nathan.”
Noooo, don’t go! I think with zero sincerity.
And then she storms off. Nathan follows her toward the door, saying something about how she’s still in her pajamas and shouldn’t she go get her stuff first? She tells him to have it sent over because she can’t bear to look at him for another second. The drama is high.
I hear the door slam, and I kick the air. Good riddance!
I also whip out my phone and text my big sister.
Me: Another one bites the dust. Kelsey’s outta here!
Lily: She lasted longer than I expected.
Me: Aka too long.
Lily: Be nice! He might be sad.
Me: Ummm I’m always nice, thank you very much.
Lily: I bet you have a creepy smile on your face.
When Nathan finally comes back into the kitchen, I train my face into a heartfelt frown, proving Lily wrong. “I’m sorry, friend.”
“No, you’re not,” he says with a chuckle as he leans his bare hip against the counter.
I really wish he’d wear more clothes. It’s painful having to look at something so beautiful and never touch it. Nathan’s skin is like hot golden sand from an exotic beach, wrapped around a rippling form that makes you feel instantly dehydrated. His perfectly crafted physique is the reason he was named Sexiest Man Alive and made the cover of Pro Sports Magazine’s form issue where they highlight and celebrate all the different physical forms of pro athletes and what they have to do to keep their bodies in tip-top shape. It’s a classy spread with well-placed hands and thighs to cover the most important bits. But yeah, 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.
I pick up a donut and shove it in my mouth to keep from smiling. “No! I really mean it. Kelsey seemed…fun.”
“You stuck your tongue out at her in the box last night.”
“Geez! Do the Avengers know about you and your superhuman eyesight?”
He smiles and reaches out to tug on my messy ponytail. “Was Kelsey a jerk to you when I wasn’t around? Be honest.”
Nathan has black eyes. Not chocolate, not brown. Jet freaking black. And when they zero in on me like this, it feels like I’m suffocating. Like I couldn’t get away from their intensity even if I tried.
I shrug a shoulder and take a drink of my coffee. “She wasn’t the best, but it’s no big deal.”
“What’d she say?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He inches closer. “Bree.”
“Nathan. See, I can do it too.”
He’s quiet…thoughtful, a mere five inches between our chests. “I’m sorry if she made you feel bad. I didn’t realize she was like that toward you or I would have broken up with her a long time ago.”
A corner of my heart aches. If he cares about me being in his life so much, why isn’t he attracted to me? No. Uh-uh. Not going there. I refuse to be that girl. We’re friends and I’m happy with that. Grateful for it. And maybe one day, life will toss me a man who loves me back as much as I love him. Either way, I’m good right now.
“Well, I didn’t exactly help things. I probably shouldn’t have come over here this early and let myself in.” I take a big bite of my chocolate donut. “I should implement better boundaries.”
“Probably,” he says, sounding gravely serious. But when my eyes jump up to his, Nathan is grinning—right dimple popping and all.
I playfully shove his arm. “What! If that’s the case, maybe I should take away your key to my apartment. Implement some boundaries there.”
He takes the last bite of his donut, grin still in place. “Good luck. I’m never giving it back.” 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.
I think I need this run more than he does, and for completely different reasons.
Sweating and worn out from our run, Bree and I dump ourselves onto the floor in front of my giant white couch. 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.
I knock the back of my knuckle against her knee, right beside the jagged scar that changed the course of her entire life. “What are you doing later? You want to come meet me for lunch at CalFi?”
CalFi is my team’s stadium. It has a recently added training facility where we practice and work out during the week, complete with a cafeteria catered by some of the best chefs in the business. And I, in case you are wondering, am an overeager puppy, begging for Bree to play with me—to always play with me.
She rolls her head so her soft brown eyes lock with mine. Bree is all honey-brown, long, wildly curly hair and a wide, gorgeous mouth with dimples the size of my thumb on either side. She has a Julia Roberts smile—one so unique and stunning that once you’ve seen it, no other smile even comes close. With our heads laid back against the couch, our foreheads almost touch. I want to lean in an extra inch. Two inches. I want to feel her lips.
“I can’t. I have a toddler creative movement class at 11:00 today.”
I frown. “You never teach on Tuesday mornings.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well, I had to add another class in the mornings twice a week to cover the studio’s rent. My landlord contacted me last month and said property taxes went up again so he had to raise my rent by a couple hundred bucks.”
Bree tries to stand, but I hook the T-back strap of her tank top and tug her back down beside me. It was borderline overly flirtatious, and I instantly know it was a bad move when she looks at me with wide eyes. I quickly continue the conversation to cover my tracks. “You’re already teaching too many classes a week.”
Bree employs one other instructor at her studio who teaches tap and jazz, but really, she needs to add another to help with the load. Her studio runs in more of a non-profit capacity, but her overhead doesn’t reflect it because every studio space in LA is enormously expensive. It’s unfair because there’s a large population of people in this city who are low income and under-resourced whose needs are overlooked. Bree’s desire has always been to provide a place for kids who otherwise wouldn’t be able to receive dance instruction, allowing them to attend her studio at minimal cost to their family.
Problem is, the tuition is too low for her current business model. She knows this but feels stuck, and I hate that her chosen solution to the problem is to teach more classes and trade more of herself to cover the deficit instead of accepting my money.
“I teach the normal amount of classes for the average instructor,” she says with a clipped warning tone. Bree’s warning tone, however, sounds as threatening as a cartoon baby bunny. Her eyes are big and sparkly and make me love her more.
I soften my own voice, preparing to go to a place I know is touchy. “I know you can handle it, and I know you’re absolutely tough as nails, but as your friend, I hate having to watch you work through so much pain in your knee. And yes, I know your pain is flaring up because I saw you favoring your right leg during our jog today.” Reflexively, I hold up my hands. “Don’t pinch me, please. I’m only trying to make sure you take care of yourself while you’re out there taking care of everyone else.”
Her eyes dart away. “I’m fine.”
“Are you? You’d tell me if you weren’t fine?”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re being overly dramatic about this, Nathan.”
She says my name in a way that’s meant to cause me pain but instead just makes me want to smile. Bree is one of the strongest human beings I know, but she’s also somehow the softest. She can never fully bring herself to snap at me or anyone else in her life.
“My knee is not going to fall off if I use it too much, and I can push through a little pain. You know I don’t control my rent, so if I want to be able to keep my tuition low for the kids, I have to add an extra class until I can find a different solution. End of story. And—AH!” She holds up her finger to press against my lips when she sees me about to argue. “I won’t take money from you. We’ve been over this a thousand times, and I need to do this on my own.”
My shoulders sink. The only consolation for continuously losing this argument is the fact that her skin is pressed against my mouth right now. I’ll stay silent forever if she will promise to never move. And with her finger pinned over my lips like this, I don’t have to feel guilty about not telling her I’ve been secretly paying part of her studio’s rent for years. (Not true—I still feel guilty about going behind her back.)
Bree’s landlord raised the rent on her once before when she first took over the studio from the old owner. She cried on my couch that night because she wouldn’t be able to afford it anymore (much like what’s happening again) and thought she was going to have to find a cheaper location outside of the city, which would completely negate her purpose of providing a dance studio for the kids in the city.
Let’s just say her landlord had a magical change of heart and called her the next day to say he’d moved things around and didn’t need to raise the rent after all. We can also safely say that if Bree ever finds out I’ve been paying a few hundred dollars toward her rent each month, I will be relieved of my favorite dangly parts. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t bear to watch her lose her dream like that. Not again.
Bree was accepted to the dance program at The Juilliard School just before high school graduation, and I’ve still never seen a person more excited about anything in their life. I was the first person she told. I picked h
er up and spun her around as we both laughed—internally a little scared about what our separating lives would mean for our friendship. She would be moving to New York, and I would be off to UT on a football scholarship. I wasn’t about to leave town without telling Bree how I felt about her, though, and hopefully making things official between us. We’d only ever been friends, but I was over it and ready to be more.
And then it happened.
She got T-boned by a guy running a stoplight one day after school. Thankfully, the crash did not take her life, but it did take away Bree’s future as a professional ballerina. Her knee was shattered, and I’ll never forget her words over the phone when she called from the hospital sobbing. “It’s all over for me, Nathan. I won’t be able to come back from this.”
The reconstructive surgery was hard on her, but the physical therapy that summer was the most brutal. Her spark was gone, and there was nothing I could do to bring it back for her. I didn’t want to leave her once fall rolled around—it didn’t feel right to go on with my dreams when she was stuck at home without hers. Even more than that, I just wanted to be with her. Football didn’t matter as much to me as she did.
But then, she pulled away. Or more like cut me off. She left me with no choice but to go to UT as planned—and then after I got there, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts. It felt like the most painful breakup even though we’d never dated. We went four years without talking, and still to this day I have no idea why she did that. She’s thriving in her new life now, so we don’t revisit the past. I’m too scared to hear the answer to why she cut me out back then.
When I graduated, got signed by the Sharks, and moved to LA, Bree was here too. I believe it was cheesy, old-fashioned, honest-to-goodness fate that brought us back together. I walked into a local coffee shop, the bell chimed over my head, and she looked up from a book, eyes locking with mine from across the room. She was a defibrillator to my chest. Bam. My heart hasn’t beat the same since.