Page 60 of Imperfect Player

“I don’t know,” I admit to him.

The admission makes me feel like a pussy. Talking to Fox doesn’t though. He’s a good dude. Seems like he’s trying to be a friend. While I’m not ready, nor will I ever be, to divulge my deepest, darkest secrets to him, I don’t mind bouncing my ideas regarding Everly off him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Do you like her or not?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Why does he make it sound so easy when it’s anything but? My feelings for her are complicated as hell. Mix that in with the fact that I don’t know what to do with feelings period—none outside of anger or horniness, at least.

“Actually, it is. Do you like her?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, man. You like her. The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

Despite the AA program reminder, I chuckle. Admitting that I have feelings for Everly is definitely a problem.

“Then what?”

“Then you decide what you want to do about them.”

“That’s the problem,” I tell him. “I don’t know what to do about it. Or her. I’m a mess, man. A fucked-up mess. Something she shouldn’t be a part of.”

“She already is. Was the moment that you two met. Even more now. So why fight it? Why keep pushing away something—someone—that makes you happy?”

“To protect her.”

“From you?” Fox laughs. “You’re not as devious or detrimental as you think. In fact, you’re a pretty good guy. Shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Real funny, asshole.”

“I mean it, man.”

“My past, though.”

“We all have pasts. Even Everly. And that’s exactly where they should stay—in the past.”

I wish that were true. I wish to hell that shit would disappear and never rear its ugly head again. It did though. And my first instinct was to run to a bottle.

She stopped you, man. She made you put down the glass, all without having to do a thing.

“She’s amazing.”

He states the fact as if I don’t already know. As if any normal person wouldn’t be able to see that just by looking at her. They wouldn’t even know the half of it. Hell, I didn’t when I first laid eyes on her. I still say it was the touch. That one single, solitary dab of a napkin against her skin did me in.

“I know. I don’t deserve her.”

“Damn right you don’t,” Maddox chimes in. He’s standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest.

“I’m not in the mood,” I tell him.

I’m actually in a great mood. Fucking fantastic after kissing Everly the other day. What I don’t want is for Maddox to ruin it.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

“Why don’t you just save your breath and both of our time, and not say it.”

“Because you keep talking to Everly, pretending to be her friend.”

---