Page 119 of With the Assist

Understanding flashes instantly. “Tomorrow.” The words tumble out in a rush. “After your dad and Emma leave. Come over.”

I nod in response. Tomorrow.

Reluctantly, we separate. I step out into the cold, legs unsteady as I climb my steps. His headlights don’t disappear down the street until my front door closes with me safely inside. My head feels light as I step into the hallway.

Emma is waiting with a cup of water and a look of vindicated satisfaction.

“Just friends,” she says dryly. “My ass.”

I laugh instead of panicking, the sound light and disbelieving. As I head down the hall, certainty settles into me.

I can’t throw caution to the wind forever, but maybe I can for a little while.

I will let myself have this. Have him. For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be selfish and lean into this no matter how temporary it is.

I know it’s not built to last. Neither of us has a lifestyle that will support anything serious. Neither one of us should be willing to bet our careers on chemistry alone.

So, I set aside the part of me that knows better. I can enjoy this and still walk away. It’s what we agreed to, and I’ll do it, even if it might break me in two.

32

Nathan

It’s nice being invisible.

We’ve been walking for thirty minutes, and not a single person has recognized me so far. It might be a record. The nighttime helps, along with the coat and beanie pulled low over my ears. But I also like to think it’s because I’ve never walked around downtown, holding hands with a woman in public before. Whatever the reason, people pass us by without looking twice.

The early evening cold presses against my cheeks, sharp enough to keep me alert but not uncomfortable.

Last night keeps replaying in my head in flashes.

Christmas at her apartment with her family. They were great. Seeing how much love and appreciation flowed between them twisted the knife of my own family issues a little deeper. But after the initial ache, it was nice being a part of it. Whether it was dinner conversation or the games afterward, I’d felt like I belonged in a way I don’t with my own family.

And then there was the car. The kiss.

I’ve kissed more women than I remember. I’m not proud of it, but it’s nothing I can change now. Until Wesley, I would’ve told youthat kissing is nice. Good foreplay for the better things to come. But I never knew what I was missing.

Kissing Wesley is like coming up for air after being underwater for years. It’s like folding into warmth after walking through an endless winter storm. It’s like a match striking in dry grass, the flames burning fast and uncontrollable.

It’s not nice. It’s not good. It’s everything. And it’s also really fucking with my head.

Which is why when she showed up at my doorstep earlier, after her family left, I took her out to dinner instead of inviting her in. All I wanted was to throw her over my shoulder, carry her straight to my bedroom, and spend the next few hours learning every single reaction she has to my hands, my mouth, and my cock.

That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. That’s what ‘benefits’ means. Instead, we keep fucking kissing, which feels more intimate and dangerous.

This all started because I played better after working out with her. Sure, I also thought hooking up with her would be great. I’d have to be blind not to think that. But Christmas with her family, romantic nights like this, and the very real feelings I’m starting to have for her, were never part of the plan.

All I want to do is figure out if she feels it too, but I’m not sure I can take it if she doesn’t. She’s said it’s a fling until her team party. I’m determined to respect that boundary even if I’m starting to want something more.

“I haven’t walked through these lights in a couple of years,” Wesley says, her head turning as she takes in each new display with childlike wonder.

“Me neither,” I confess. “I forgot how many there were.”

She walks close enough that our shoulders brush every few steps, close enough that I can feel her warmth through both our coats. Her fingers stay threaded through mine.

Her breath fogs in front of her as she exhales, white mist disappearing into the glow of the streetlights. Hair falls loose around hershoulders, slightly messy from her hat. Her cheeks are pink from the cold.

“Do you want to stay in Boston long-term?” I ask. I’ve been wondering since I saw her with Emma yesterday. It must be hard being across the country from them.