Page 40 of The Best Friend and the Shortstop

“You’re sorry about Brayden,” she says, not quite the same thing I said. Noticeably different, in fact.

I turn and find her eyes narrowed on me, her elbow resting on my steering wheel.

“‘Just the distraction you need,’ you said.”

I inhale through my nose and sink into the corner so I can look her in the eyes.

“I said that, yeah. But that was before—” Before I was willing to break my own rules.

“Alex, were you using me to get back at Brayden?” She doesn’t blink. She simply stares at my eyes and waits for the read. Just like back at the house when she knew I was bluffing at that table, she knows the truth right now.

“I was.” It’s better to own it.

“Fucking damn, Alex!”

She gets out of the car, slams the door, and stomps down the middle of the street with her hands threaded behind her head. I wait a few seconds until she stops, then get out and move to the front of my car to sit on the hood.

Her head falls back, her eyes on the stars. I’m sure she’s stringing together a few swear words, maybe even mixing English with Spanish the way her mom does. The way my mom does. Seems I’m always making the women in my life do that.

She turns eventually, taking her time to walk back to me, stopping out of arm’s reach.

Her head tilts to the side.

“Why does he know so much about your dad?”

I chuckle, but it’s not a happy one.

“Guess who Miss Arendale’s first cousin is?”

Understanding hits her, at least I think. Her weight eases back as her lips part, and she hums, “Oh.”

I push up from the car, relieved when she doesn’t take a step back. She eyes me skeptically.

“You wanna come in?” I want her to come in. I’m still angry, but also, I’m still thinking about the way she felt sitting on my lap, the way her bare stomach felt when my hand slid across it. The way she smells and tastes. All of the pieces of her I have yet to explore.

“Yeah. I’ll come in,” she says, and I move closer, reaching for her hand. She crosses her arms quickly, though, sneering at me.

“You have to earn my hand,” she says, jokingly. But also . . . there’s some truth there.

We don’t get to spend nights here often, and she’ll have to go back to her dorm by morning. But it’s rare to have the house empty. I should probably sober up a little and then spend tonight talking—really talking. The last thing I want to do right now, though, is talk.

I lock the door behind us then flip on the small hall light that shines on up the stairs. She leads the way and I trail behind her, trying not to be a total pervert staring at her ass. That’s no different from before, however. Even when we were friend-zoned, I stared at her ass.

“Your room is actually clean,” she notes, kicking the only discarded piece of clothing on my floor up in the air and snagging it. It’s my favorite hoodie. It’s also her favorite hoodie, and she hugs it to her chest and drops her chin, pressing her nose into the fabric.

“It probably needs a wash,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“It smells like you.” Her gaze holds on to me as I move across the room and sit on the edge of my bed.

“You wanna kick my ass in Xbox or something?” That’s what we would have done if this conversation were happening a week ago.

She shakes her head. I bite my bottom lip, strangely nervous about how to go about this.

“I’m really sorry, Nik. About . . . about using you to get at Brayden like that. It wasn’t right.”

She inhales and sucks her mouth into a straight line before nodding.

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