Page 107 of Butterfly Effect

I straighten from my bent position and hold the ball between my hip and wrist. “Why do you like it, Wade?”

“Like what?”

“How I speak to you. How I treat you.”

His hands form a T before grabbing the bunched shirt circling his neck. It’s used to wipe his chest and abs once more. “You mean how you’re bossy” —this time he tucks the tee into the back of his shorts— “snarky, mouthy...?”

My eyes draw another invisible arch as I deadpan. “Please. Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

Wade doesn’t break. “Because I know that’s not who you are. You didn’t talk to that piece of shit Vaughn like this, right?”

“No,” I say under my breath. Every mention of my past relationships feels like a failure. Insecurity toys with my nerves, and I react by bouncing the ball.

“How infuriating.” I mistake his nostrils flaring as resentment toward me, but he shakes his head and dispels the thought. “Jerk turned you into a doormat.”

My dribbling stills. “I wasnota doormat.”

I was a doormat.

The man got whatever, however, whenever he wanted, and I thought giving, giving, giving to him was the best thing I could do.She’s a low-maintenance girlfriend; she’s so chill, he’d say. More like a spineless creature under the guise of being easygoing. Humiliating.

His elbow nudges my arm. “You still with me? That’s not you. But the Gabe you’re showing me isn’t you either.”

I hate that he’s right. That he knows I’m terrified of showing him any weakness, anything real. And that I haven’t been effective in hiding myself.

You cuddle a guy a few times after sex, and he thinks he knows you. Jeez.

Two steps away from him allows my jump shot. It goes in. I get the rebound, but it’s not as satisfying as expected.

“But I’d rather have a fake you than nothing.”

The earnest longing in his voice triggers a shiver. I can’t shake it.

Wade steals the ball while I’m caught off-guard. “Besides, I like seeing how far I can go. What sets you off.” Pretty Boy dribbles the basketball across the court. “Don’t you ever get tired, Gabe?”

“Of?” My arms shoot up in defense of any attempts he makes, but there’s no point. He’s bigger.

His shot from the top of the key goes in. I get the rebound.

“The burden of control, how heavy it is to pretend, to bear other people’s expectation of you?”

I do get tired. But I don’t trust easily enough anymore to let it go. And I’m not sure he’s talking about me.

“Sometimes…” One eye scrunches as he corrects himself and catches his breath, palming his side. “People think I’m an idiot, goof-off, whatever. It’s not often I get to just…be. To not have to sit there and analyze to death what I should be doing. One place I get to do that is on the ice. I can shut my mind off and chase instinct.”

“And another place?” A dangerous question whose answer I’m not entirely prepared for. I keep the ball against my chest. As if it’ll protect my heart.

“With you,” he replies, certain. “Giving you control has been” —he takes a pause and drops his shoulders, releasing a burden— “fuckingfreeing. It was so unexpected, a fantasy I never knew how to ask for. With you, I didn’t have to. It wasn’t weird or awkward. With you, it feels right.”

Tension clouds my judgment. I’m about to do something really stupid, aren’t I?

Wade’s shoulders soften as he folds in toward me. “So you can call me a fuckboy or manwhore or a sex idiot, and I’ll take it all. I know you could hurt me, but I kinda don’t care. You’re the first woman who’s asked for me to only be with her. I don’t think anyone else bothered.”

My chin juts up, finding it hard to believe. “You’re saying none of the women you’ve ever been with didn’t want to be your girlfriend?”

“Nope. Or if they did, they never said anything.” He huffs softly. “They want a free drink, dinner, access. A good time, a good fuck. And no judgment from me; that’s their choice.”

“I’m sure you were broken up about it.”

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