Page 74 of My Always One

A month ago, I would have jumped at the chance.

Three weeks ago, I had.

“You seem nice,” I say. “The thing is that I need to figure out where this relationship is going.”

“I’m here if you make any decisions,” she says with a sexy smirk. “Besides, I have to grant you three wishes. It’s the life-saving rule.”

I come up with a lame excuse and head into the locker room. The entire time I’m showering and getting ready for the office, I think about what she offered and why I’m not interested.

The whole time I am thinking about Sami.

She and I need to talk.

I know we have been talking, as well as doing other things, but my little confrontation with Miss Tits and Ass makes me realize I’m not satisfied with Sami’s and my amended agreement. Sami has just recently earned her freedom, and I don’t want to take that away, but damn, I want more.

I’ve played the field. I know what is waiting on each base.

Well, reallywho’s on first, what’s on second, and I don’t know is on third—that’s from one of my dad’s favorite Abbot and Costello bits.

In all seriousness, if I don’t tell Sami how I feel, I’ll never know if there’s a chance. If I do tell her, I may lose her as my friend. If I don’t, someone else may offer her forever and always.

The back and forth continues.

Once I’m settled behind my desk at my office, I pull out my phone and send a text.

“Hey. We need to talk. Dinner? Pizza, my place or out?”

Marshal

Iwait for Sami's text message like a high school kid. Shit, I've never waited for a response even when I was in high school. Not even for her.

Why?

Because back then, I knew she'd eventually respond.

She always did.

Always.

Why the fuck am I nervous about it now?

Did I think she'd really let me down?

I didn't want to think she would.

And then it happens. The simple chime and there it is on my screen.

Text message from Sami:

“Talk? Sounds ominous. Food, though, sounds great. Your place is good. Not pizza. Grill?”

I don’t want her to think ominous.

“Not ominous. See you at six.”

* * *

At ten minutes before six, I have my apartment all set.

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