Page 63 of Ex's & Oh's (The Lucky Girls 1)

“You just never do this. Don’t you have some kind of no-repeat policy?”

I only shrug in response.

“So…what are you going to do about it?” Colin asks. He’s not going to let this go, but it’s not too bad talking about her. In fact, I like talking about her. She’s different than other girls, and she’s making me feel different than they do.

“You should date her,” Colin says.

“That simple, huh?”

“It really is.”

I shake my head. “I don’t date. And she lives in LA.”

“If you date, it voids your first statement. And you can make a change if you really need to. People do crazy things for love.”

“I don’t know if I would call it love.” I stand and squirt what’s left in my water bottle over my hair so it runs into my shirt to cool off.

I would call it love, though. I’m in love with the woman. I think that’s what scares me so much. The fact that my feelings are all over the place, and it hasn’t changed since we saw each other a decade ago. What the hell. It was nothing more than a teenage crush—at least, that was what I’d thought. But it turns out this shit is permanent.

It was fine when I thought it was just a teenage thing. But now that I’m starting to think it isn’t—and never was—I’m not sure what to make of it. I don’t date. Not because I want to fuck around, but because relationships fucking hurt. I don’t want to sound like a pussy but getting attached to someone causes more shit than it does any good. Everything breaks eventually, and when this thing with her goes bad, I have to recover.

“We have to get back on the field, man,” Colin says. “I’m going to have to show Coach I still know how to fucking play the game at this point.”

I clap him on the back. “It’s really not that bad. You’ll be fine, and he knows what he has.”

Colin nods and we push our gum guards into our mouths, pull on our helmets, and run onto the field.

The rest of the training is good—I use it to work out my frustrations, and I prove to myself and Coach that I still know what I’m doing. By the time I’m done, I feel good. Exercise creates endorphins that make me happier than fucking around, being drunk, or getting all the attention does, and I’m pumped when I finally head home.

My phone rings and I answer via the car’s Bluetooth system while I drive. Noah’s voice fills my car over the upgraded sound system I paid a shit ton for to have installed.

“What’s up, man?”

“Just done training,” I say. “It was good.”

“Sounds like a ball,” Noah says.

I always talk about football, and only afterward, I feel like an idiot for mentioning it because Noah never made it to the big leagues. He assures me that he’s fine; his life is great as an agent. But I still feel weird about it that we were so fucking tight, went to Miami together, and I made it when he didn’t.

“So, how’s everything at the hotel?” Noah asks. “Anything I’m missing out on?”

“You missed a hell of a bachelor’s party,” I say. Maybe not that insane, I think, when I remember how upset Marc got about the strippers. “A lot of drama, too. Stacey’s parents are crazy about this whole thing. You should be relieved you’re coming in last minute.”

“I don’t know about that. You get to have fun with all the bridesmaids, and everyone knows that’s where you need to sow your oats.”

I laugh. “You did not just call it that.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, you get to fuck around for days before the actual event.”

I laugh, but a pang of guilt shoots into my chest. I’m getting more and more attached to Jenna. It’s not just a one-night stand anymore, and I don’t know if I’m even happy just keeping it to a wedding fling. I don’t know what the alternative could be. But Noah is my boy. He’s always been.

We might not have seen each other much over the past couple of years since we left college, but we talk enough that we’re still good friends, and I’m fucking the girl he used to date. I’m pissing on every rule in the bro code.

“So, what are they like?” Noah asks.

“Who?”

“The bridesmaids, asshole.” I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on keeping them all to yourself.” He laughs. “I know you’re capable of some crazy shit in the bedroom, but three is a bit much, even for you.”

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