Page 54 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

I shake my head. "We're not on the same page. I can't just leave right now, Saylor. We're drunk. It's going to fuck everything up."

"Everything's already fucked up, Cade. And there's nothing you can do to fix it."

God damn it.

Chapter 16

Cade's body stiffens in horror. The lamp on my nightstand casts his face in soft shadows, highlighting the confusion that sweeps across his features.

He looks down at the ground, brow furrowed.

"This was a mistake." I sway against my dresser. Fuck, I really am drunk. "Again. We shouldn't have done this."

Something flickers in his eyes — hurt, maybe, but clearly frustration. He sits up fully, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. The gesture seems to emphasize his growing agitation, fingers raking through the dark strands as if he might find answers there.

"I don't understand why I need to leave," he says, voice low to avoid carrying through the thin walls of my apartment. "Everything was fine five minutes ago. Better than fine."

That's the problem. It was better than fine. It was perfect — his touch, his words, the way he looked at me.

"If you are so worried about Byron…" I sigh, holding in my burp. "It's just…this isn't going to work."

He watches me for a long moment, his hand making another journey through his hair. The muscles in his jaw tighten, a telltale sign of controlled emotion.

"What can I do?" he asks finally, the question unexpected enough to make me pause. "To prove myself to you?"

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I asked him to leave, pushed him away with deliberate cruelty, and his response is to ask how he can stay? The vulnerability in his expression makes something twist painfully in my chest.

A dozen responses rise to my lips, but what emerges surprises even me. "I don't want to be second best."

The admission hangs between us, trembling with implications I hadn't meant to reveal. But now that the words are free, they bring clarity with them — a tide of realizations I've been holding at bay.

"Byron always put me last," I continue, the words spilling out before I can stop them. I hadn't even realized I was thinking it until I hear myself saying it aloud. "Last after his video games, after you, his friends, his degree, his hobbies. Everything came before me, and it sucked. It sucked to always be an afterthought in my own relationship. I do not want to be treated like that again, Cade."

Cade watches me, something shifting in his expression. "I'm dedicated to school," he says carefully. "And hockey takes up a lot of my time now. I have a pretty tight schedule." He pauses, eyes never leaving mine. "But if you want to see where this goes, I'm down. We could make it work, figure it out."

His sincerity takes me aback. This isn't the arrogant Cade I thought I knew, the one who takes what he wants without consideration for others. This is someone new — or perhaps someone who was always there, hidden beneath layers of defense and competition.

"Hannah and I barely saw each other," he continues when I don't respond. "But we had date nights. Regular ones. If that's what you want—"

"It's not," I interrupt, the realization crystallizing as I speak. One night a week where I'm the priority isn't enough. What I want is so much more — so much more than I've ever admitted to wanting before.

I want to be consumed by someone. I want to be pursued, to be the center of someone's world rather than an orbiting satellite. I want the kind of passion that doesn't fit neatly into scheduled slots between other obligations. I want to be wanted.

But Cade doesn't come on that strong — I've seen how measured, how controlled he can be. He's not the type to obsess, to chase, to overwhelm with attention. And admitting what I really want feels too vulnerable, too needy.

"Date night every week isn't going to cut it," I say instead, the words sounding harsher than intended.

Frustration flashes across his face. "Then what do you want, Saylor? Tell me, because I'm trying here, and you're not giving me much to work with."

Why are men like this?

I inhale, his irritation pushes through my defenses, cutting closer to the truth. "I want someone who's obsessed enough with me to always want to be around," I admit, my voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I'm tired of being the one who chases. Being chased, for once… that's what I want.Thatwould be nice."

I expect mockery, or at least a sigh about how insane I sound. Instead, Cade's expression softens, his hand stilling in his hair.

"Okay," he says simply, clapping his hands together.

I blink at him. "Okay?"

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