Page 32 of Net and Chill

“So, I heard…through the grapevine…that the reason you kept seeing me was because you were on a winning streak and you thought I was your good luck charm.”

“What?”

“I’m not mad,” Bridget says. “I mean. I was hurt, I guess. If that’s the only reason…”

“It’s not the only reason. Fuck.You’rethe only reason.”

“Okay, calm down. I’m not upset.”

“I am,” I say. “Fuck.”

“I told you we shouldn’t talk about this yet.”

“Bridget.You’re the reasons. All the reasons I kept seeing you and no one else.” Did I say that out loud? Those were the right words. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes. So, you didn’t think of me as your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm. But not only that. Everything. All year.”

“Okay,” she says. “I misunderstood.”

“My goalposts knew.”

“Huh?”

“You know.”

“I don’t. I need you to explain so I know you’re not confused.”

“I’m not confused,” I say. “I’ve known. For months. I was confused after you said what you said. But I wasn’t until right before you said it. But now I’m not confused. I know everything.”

“Okay. You should get some more sleep. You probably need to use the restroom.”

“Yes.”

She takes the comforter and sheets off. “Get up slowly, okay?”

I get up. Slowly. She reaches for me, but I’m good. “I’m good.” Whoa. The floor moved. No? I’m good. Fuck this shit. I eat walking for breakfast. I’m good.

When I get back from the bathroom, the bed moves. But it doesn’t scare me. I’m in charge. Bed—mine. Pillows—mine. Sheet and comforter—mine.

Bridget—mine.

“You want me to adjust the pillows for you?” she asks.

Fucking pillows. “Yes, please.”

My hands move.

“Craig…”

They’re on her tits. Good hands. Mine.

She moves away.

Bad Bridget.

Bad.