Page 4 of The Love We Make

When I walked into the room, she looked up and smiled. Her dark blonde hair was up in a messy thing and falling around her face. Her brown eyes were big and lucent. Despite how annoyed she was at me, she was happy to see me.

She always was.

“Look who is finally up. The guy that doesn’t live here.”

“Told ya, Maddy, I will be here every night until you change your mind.”

“You just don’t get it,” she mumbled and turned back to the TV.

I walked into the kitchen and drank straight from the carton. She hated that. Maybe if I annoyed her enough, she would cave.

“That’s not gonna work,” she yelled from the living room where she could see me over the bar.

“What is it, Maddy? Why is this such a big deal? What don’t I get?”

As I walked back into the living room, she muted the TV and set her coffee on the side table.

“We have talked about this before,” she sighed.

“Tell me again. Because I cannot make sense of this.”

“I cannot make sense of why you care so much.”

I couldn’t either, sometimes. But I did care and that’s just the way it was.

“Tell me,” I urged and sat beside her, putting her feet into my lap.

“Guys suck, Ethan. They either wantmefor one thing, wantyoufor everything, or bail once they realize I am a virgin and want love in my life. Getting it over with and moving on will help me be more confident and just have fun. I am tired of being the girl that goes home alone every time we go out because I am waiting on therightguy. The right guy doesn’t exist.”

“You just haven’t met him yet. What if you go all rogue and then two weeks later you meet someone and wish you had saved yourself for him. Because that's the kind of amazing girl you are. High standards and high morals.”

“That is a sweet pep talk, but no. I am done with love.”

I did kind of blame it on her girlfriends. They were always pressuring her to “get laid” and “get loose.” This was a classic case of peer pressure and my usually strong best friend was caving.

“Come to my game today?” I asked as a way to change and lighten the subject.

“It’s too hot,” she whined.

“Yet here you are curled in a blanket,” I deadpanned. “Come on. I have to leave for two weeks and we haven’t hung out in three months. The game, dinner, and then I will leave you alone for two whole weeks.”

Sorta.

“Haven't hung out? You’ve been here every night for a month!”

“I’ve slept here, but we haven’t spent time together. Not like we usually do. Not since spring training ended,” I reasoned. Then for good measure, I added, “Please. I pitch today. I need my lucky charm and my cheerleader.”

She eyed me as she threw the blanket off of her legs and stood. “Dinner better be expensive!”

“Whatever you want,” I promised.

I threw my shirt back on from the night before and waited for her to get ready. Ten minutes later, we were walking hand in hand out of her building and to my car.

Her hair was still in the messy thing, her face was perfect with no make-up on, cut-off shorts showing off her tan legs, and a tank top that said Kings across the front. I was a man so I noticed these things.

I wasn’t blind nor dumb.

Couldn’t she see how much worth she had? Not just in her hot legs but her sweet and faultless disposition?

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