Page 92 of The Third Baseman

“Wet,” I gritted, and stormed over to the fridge. I might not be sinking the whiskey, but I still needed something to take the edge off. “I can see through your shirt.”

She picked up the blanket, and wrapped it around herself, muttering the obvious, “It’s raining outside.”

My mood clearly hadn’t gone far, and I spun round to face her. “I don’t give a fuck. You can’t come here looking like that and expect me to be…”

“Be what?”

“Friends.”

Her face dropped, and I wasn’t sure if the trembling of her jaw was because she was suddenly cold, or because she was about to cry. Whatever it was still had my heart melting the armor I’d been wearing all day.

My shoulders dropped. “Marn, if you want to be friends then we can do it during office hours. I can deal with that. But you can’t come to my apartment at nine p.m. dressed like that, and expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

I blinked in rapid succession, making sure I’d heard correctly and not just wishful thinking, but I swear she said, “What if I don’t want you to?”

She was still by the door, and I stepped slowly toward her until I was so close I could see my eyes flashing in hers. But on closer inspection, it was her eyes flashing.

“Is that a joke? Because it’s not funny,” I growled.

“No, Jupiter, it’s not fucking funny! There’s nothing funny about this. It’s not funny and it’s not fair. You don’t get to just interrupt my date, my work, turn my entire life upside down… and expect me to fall into your lap.”

My hopes, which had been up for a split second, were dashed to smithereens once again.

“We had this conversation already. I heard you loud and clear.”

“I’m not done.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course she wasn’t. All I wanted to do was have a shower, jerk off to memories of her, and go to bed… then start again tomorrow.

“Do you remember the first time you kissed me?”

I couldn’t believe she even had to ask; it was burned into my memory, branded onto my heart. It was still one of the top five nights of my life. But instead of telling her all that, I just nodded and said, “Yes.”

“I thought I’d never felt anything better. You made me feel safe, secure, hot... I’d never felt anything like it. And every single other time you kissed me, I thought the same thing – that I’d never feel anything better.”

I thought I knew every tell she had, but right now, I couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. It didn’t help that she was looking at her feet.

“I know, Marn. Me too.”

“And today… it was the same.”

Up until then, she maybe had seventy percent of my attention, because the other thirty percent had already heard what she was saying the first time, and therefore was concentrating on not getting a semi or thinking of her wet shirt underneath the blanket, and what was underneaththat. I probably should have offered her a change of clothes, but then she’d be naked in my apartment, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to push myself to test how I’d handle that.

Not well was my guess.

Now, however, she had one hundred percent of my attention fully invested in every word coming out of her mouth.

I spread my legs to drop down nearer to her height, and narrowed my eyes, “What happened with Coffee Douche?”

“He wanted to know how I knew you, and what you’d said to me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said you were apologizing for being an asshole as part of a rehabilitation program.” Her laugh rang like a tiny bell in my chest. “And then he wanted to know how much further down the line his apology was.”

“He’s gonna be waiting a while,” I gritted out. “You’re not going on a date with him again.”

It wasn’t a question. Marnie looked like she was about to argue, but her face softened.

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