Page 54 of Overtime Goal
The air in the room was thick enough to choke on, and I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t involve yelling at him.
Before I could come up with anything, he turned and walked away. “I’m going to shower,” he called back. “I don’t want to miss the tour.”
“I’ll get ready too,” I said.
He stopped but didn’t turn to face me. “No. Stay here and get ready for your date. I’m sure it’ll take some time to make yourself presentable for Natalie.”
“Logan!”
“Don’t forget to shave down there. You’re getting a little bushy.”
“The fuck?”
“See you later. Probably tomorrow morning, right?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he stomped to his room, his footsteps heavy with anger and hurt.
I sank back onto the couch, and the crushing weight of regret pinned me in place. As nice as it would be to meet her, the last thing I wanted was to spend an evening with Natalie Langdon. I didn’t want to hurt Logan, and as I sat there alone, I wondered if I could ever fix the damage I’d done.
A few minutes later, he came back out. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he’d put on shorts and a polo shirt. He didn’t speak as he walked toward the door.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” I asked.
He stopped and turned, then pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Have fun tonight, Riley.”
With that, he was gone.
21/
logan
The trail wassteep and narrow, twisting down the hillside. I stumbled twice, catching myself just in time, and tried to force my thoughts away from Riley. Breaking my leg in Italy would be no way to spend a vacation. I started talking out loud to maintain my focus, describing odd plays and code words the Warriors had used years ago. It may have been ridiculous, but it kept me from thinking about the fight.
I made it as far as Via Cristoforo Colombo before I had to stop and lean against a wall, catching my breath. The tour didn’t matter, something I’d known before I left the villa. What I needed was distance from Riley, space before the situation blew up. If I’d stayed, I would have said things I’d regret. So much for my grand resolution not to lose it every time he went near a woman. The second reality had intruded on my fantasies, instinct took over.
Via Cristoforo Colombo pulsed with the soft hum of mopeds, laughter, and the occasional clatter of dishes from an open-air terrace. I dodged groups of tourists angling for the perfect photo, searching for a distraction to keep my mind off Riley. Colorful bougainvillea spilled from wrought-iron balconies and trellises overhead. Shops and boutique hotels lined the street, and Istopped to look in the window of a linen store that reminded me too much of Riley in his billowy white shirt.
Finally, I spotted the blue-lettered sign for Marco’s, a bar tucked onto a quiet terrace that jutted out over the cliffside. The beach was below, and beyond it, the sea with its endless shades of blue. I hated drinking when I was like this because it only made things worse. Still, it had to be better than going back to the villa and pacing around while Riles was out with her. Fuck that.
I sat at the far edge of the terrace, ordered an Italian beer, and welcomed the first few icy sips. The sea breeze kicked up, a welcome relief in the heat of the afternoon.
By the time the second beer landed in front of me, I couldn’t sit still. My knees bounced so hard I hit the bottom of the table, and I couldn’t stop tracing lines through the condensation on my glass. I drained half of it in one go and returned to staring at the Mediterranean, trying to lose myself in the blue water glistening in the afternoon sun. What the fuck was I doing? Had I ruined everything?
I couldn’t keep my mind off Riley, with his shaggy hair, mellow voice, and lopsided grin that always looked like he knew a secret. No doubt, he was cocky, and he could be infuriating. Yet he was still the funniest, sharpest man I’d ever met. He was everything I’d stopped believing I could have.
We weren’t just close, and it wasn’t only because of sex. After years of friendship, he knew how I liked my coffee, when I needed silence, and how to touch my wrist when I was spiraling about something. I knew him too, how lonely he could be even when he acted like the life of the party. He hated being cold indoors and was never happier than when we were hanging out. I understood he talked big because he needed to hide the insecurities left by the way he grew up.
I wanted him so much. Not just the jokes or the sex or the easy companionship, but all of him. The thought of losing him made my heart feel like it was frozen. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone, but he wasn’t mine.
“Fuck.” I barely heard myself over the blood rushing in my ears, and I drained the beer. Hopefully, it would quiet the noise in my head.
The night in LA had been a mistake. The way he acted the next morning should have told me to keep my distance and never let us go there again. Sex complicates everything, even when both people want a relationship. And Riley didn’t, at least not with me.
But when it isn’t tangled up in denial, when one person isn’t terrified of what it means to be attracted to another man, sex can make things better. People have fun and get close. Sometimes, they even fall in love.
Falling for Riley wasn’t new, but acting on it was, and it might have been a mistake I’d regret forever. I’d allowed myself to fall for a man who could never want me the same way I did him. Even if Riley were bisexual, things could never work for us. He’d told me many times how much he wanted a wife and kids. If we were together, we could have kids, but I could never be his wife.
I finished my beer and signaled for a third as an idea formed in my head. If I had any chance of protecting myself emotionally and salvaging what was left of my friendship with Riley, I needed to put space between us. Physical distance would be difficult until we went back to Buffalo, but until then, I could make a good start with emotional space.
