Page 60 of Strike Zone

“I was well behaved. I followed the rules. I didn’t have the same interests as my mom. She liked to socialize and be the life of the party. I wanted to be like my dad. I love her and she loves me. We just aren’t really close. I think she wanted me to be her little doll and wear dresses. I preferred to wear pants. I didn’t want to date or get married. I wanted to work. Save businesses like my dad.”

“Yet, you’re getting married now,” I point out.

“Agreeing to marry Daniel serves a purpose,” she says. Her words feel significant and deliberate.

Daniel. He sounds like a tool. How about Dan or Danny? Daniel sounds so formal and boring.

“Let me guess. You’re doing it for the sex. It sounds like the kind of guy who could make you scream,” I joke. “Does he know you are sleeping with other people?” I haven’t stopped thinking about the box of condoms she bought and who she uses them with.

I’m not sure when she would find the time to hook up with some random guy. If she isn’t in class, she’s tutoring. If she isn’t tutoring, she’s with me.

“He doesn’t get a say in my life until he puts a ring on my finger. I’m sure he’s enjoying himself just as much as I am.”

“You deserve better.” Me. I’m better. Wren tries to read my face and figure out what I’m really trying to say.

I’ve never done relationships before and I’ve made my stance clear—I hookup. I mess around and I don’t get attached. If she wasn’t set on marrying someone else, could we have something real?

I’m always asking her to bend her rules for me. Can I break one of my own for her?

“I’ve never had a relationship with someone I liked. Attracted to? Sure.”

“Are you attracted to Daniel?”

She gives me a look that I can only describe as annoyed. “He’s like the guys I usually sleep with. But I wouldn’t say he’s my type.” She shifts her body. Interesting. What kind of guy is your type? Perhaps long hair, mustache, tall, muscular, and has a fucking amazing personality?

“You’re not attracted to him then. Yet, you plan on him being the last man you ever have sex with. There is something really wrong with that.” I gesture towards her with my slice of pizza before I take a bite.

“I would have thought out of all my friends you would be the most understanding.”

“Why, because I’ve slept with random women in my past? Sure, I’ve slept with a generous handful but I found every one of them attractive in some way.” How I felt about the women in my past is microscopic. A fleck of dirt in a hundred acre field. Nothing compared to what I feel when I do something as mundane as sitting beside Wren eating pizza.

“Generous handful.” She scoffs. “How many sexual partners have you had?”

“Let’s see. There are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. I lost my virginity at fifteen. So that’s…” I pretend to do the math in my head. It’s nowhere near that many but it’s worth it to see the look on her face.

“Fifteen?” Her eyebrows jump to her hairline. “Was your dick even full size back then?”

I cough to cover up a laugh. “It was proportionate to my body. Still is, if you’re wondering.” I smirk at her.

“I’m not,” she deadpans. Her fingers reach out to scratch the soft skin over her wrist. She’s lying. She starts to scratch on the inside of her wrist or her neck when she’s not telling the truth. She is definitely wondering about the size of my cock.

“My number is less than you think.”

“I’m not going to judge you. I’ll answer first. Make you feel more comfortable,” she says. Hearing about how many guys have touched her will make me anything but comfortable. It will make me furious. That’s an inside thought I should examine later.

“Go ahead, birdie. What’s your number?”

“Six,” she says. My eyes bulge. I expected more with the surplus of condoms she has in stock.

“Does that include the guy you’re sleeping with now?”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone right now. I haven’t been with anyone in…awhile.”

“But you bought condoms.”

“I like to be prepared.” She shrugs. “Well…”

“Well what?”

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