Page 2 of The Love We Make

Why I told him about my plan.

And why he had been here ever since.

The bastard was cock-blocking me.

Of course, he didn’t like my plan. He tried talking me out of it. When I woke up sober and clear the next day, he had hoped I had forgotten or didn’t mean what I had said in my drunken stupor. But I didn’t forget and I really did want to lose my virginity. Who the hell was a 24-year-old virgin anyway? It was getting downright embarrassing.

I didn’t plan for it to be this way. I just wanted it to be special and with someone I loved. I always thought I would fall in love and get married and give myself to someone special.

I dropped that pipe dream when I could no longer get that far into a stable relationship. Dating was hard. Especially when Ethan was always around.

He was a drop-dead gorgeous, professional baseball player, in a major sports town. That alone made it impossible for me to date or even live outside of his aura.

Guys I dated were either intimidated by him or liked him more than they liked me. The last guy I dated wouldn’t even come over unless I told him Ethan was there, too. I ended things with him once I noticed that pattern.

The guy before that spent most of his time trying tobeEthan. He started dressing like Ethan and talking like Ethan. When I called him out, he told me he thought that was what I wanted, what I liked.

So, yeah, I was still a virgin.

I had spent the last month determined to randomly hook up with someone while Ethan continued to show up every night after his games. He had a key so he just let himself in and I woke up with him next to me every morning. It was his way of making sure I didn’t bring any random guys home. That I was safe.

He’d been against my plan from the get-go.

“It should be special,”he had said.

“Don’t rush into anything.”

“Be patient.”

Easy for him to say. He lost his virginity in 11th grade to Marsha Thompson—a grade-A high school slut. And with all that muscle and status, he got to have sex whenever he wanted since then.

Stupid Ethan.

He had to go. I needed to tell him, once and for all, that he had to give me space. Otherwise, I was in danger of dying a lonely old woman with 75 cats.

And I hated cats.

“Ethan, get up. I made coffee.”

“It’s Sunday, come take a nap,” he mumbled while patting the bed beside him.

“I just woke up, I don’t need a nap.”

“I pitch today. I need my rest.”

I just rolled my eyes and left the room. No sense in arguing with him on his day to pitch. I wanted us to have that chat, but it could wait until tomorrow. Ethan, like every other baseball player, had a routine and a mindset he liked to keep. Especially on the days he had to pitch. I was mad but I still loved him and I promised I would always help and cheer him on when it came to his career.

So, I let it go.

Besides, he was about to leave town for away games, anyway.

Surely I could escape him while he was gone.

Chapter 2

Ethan

Luckily, Madison’s bed was comfortable. Probably more than my own ten-thousand-dollar bed. Maybe it was because it was cozier and smaller. Or maybe it was the fact that Madison was in it with me.

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