Page 33 of Blitz

Arms settle around me, pulling me back against a hard body. I blink up at Mark and smile at him.

“Happy birthday, honey.”

He tightens his arms around me. “Thanks, babe. Congrats on first place. Two weeks in a row.”

“Thank you. I try.” I dust off my shoulders and he laughs.

“What are you doing later tonight?”

I roll my eyes. “Nice try. I know you and Fred hooked up last night.”

He grins. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Besides, I’ve got a boyfriend now.”

“Oh, is that the guy you were macking on last night?”

I nod over to Tucker, who has a murderous look on his face. Not unlike the look on his face right before he tackles whatever guard is opposite him on the football field.

“Homeboy doesn’t like me,” he says, releasing me immediately.

“Homeboy doesn’t know you. He’ll like you just fine once he realizes you’re the sluttiest boy this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.”

Mark laughs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My brother is in South Carolina and he’s way sluttier than you are,” I say, and he grins.

“When is big brother coming to visit?”

“Little. I’m seventeen minutes older.” I ignore the fact that Micah is three inches taller and about a hundred pounds heavier than me. He’ll always be my little brother.

Mark grins, pulling at my braid. “I look forward to meeting him.”

I chance a glance over to the stands. Tucker looks moderately less displeased. His jaw is clenched, his eyes hard. He tilts his head to whatever Amir is telling him and nods. He grinds out a few words.

My eyes locked on his, I cup my fingers together until they make a heart and hold it up to him. He swallows, letting out a heavy exhale. I blow him a kiss and he nods. He pats his chest—over his heart, I realize.

A warm glow settles over me. Even when he’s being a sulky, jealous idiot, I love him. There’s nothing between me and Mark—there never has been and there never will be.

Tucker and I will get through these little speed bumps. In the before, he knew all of my male friends because over the course of our three and a half years together, our friend groups naturally merged. Us having dinner with his friends and then going to a party with mine is a good start, even if we spent most of the evening making out instead of socializing.

Tonight, though, will be all about us. I’m freshly shaved everywhere that he might touch me. After the meet, I’ll get dressed up in my sexiest lingerie, stuff he hasn’t seen yet. I’m not the same size I used to be. I don’t think he’ll care much. I have a shape now that I didn’t at seventeen. Then again, I could probably wear a burlap sack and he’d still want me. He’s been pining after me for two and a half years. If he seriously hasn’t gotten laid in the time since we broke up, he’ll be desperate for it tonight.

I’ve been with other guys. I’ve dated. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve experimented. I know more about what I like in bed, more about what I need in a partner. Sex is just one piece of it, a part of us that has always been successful. I need someone who’s going to be my safe harbor, who will be there for me when my day turns to shit and everything sucks, but will also sit there and let me vent without trying to fix my problems for me. I need someone who knows when to give me space and doesn’t get upset when I retreat into myself for a little while. I need someone who doesn’t need their hand held every minute of the day, that’s okay with a little bit of distance, but is there with snuggles and affection when we both want it.

And I need someone that respects me and my decisions. It’s a bare minimum requirement. I’ve dated enough to know that it’s not universally found, even though it should be. I have enough self respect to put myself first when it counts.

Tucker has always been good about respecting my boundaries, about acknowledging that sometimes I need a little bit of space. He doesn’t get offended when I have more on my mind than when is the next time we can have sex. He doesn’t pressure me into doing things I’m not interested in—which, again, is the bare minimum of human decency.

His moms welcomed me into their home. They let me stay over as often as I wanted. Micah, too. They didn’t care if we had sex under their roof. They made me part of their family. They did the same with all of Jamal’s two-week flings—and he had a lot of those. Tuck’s brother has always been gorgeous and charming, a deadly combination for women’s panties. He’s also a genuinely nice guy. I miss hanging out with him.

Shit. His moms. Has he told them? It’s been less than twenty-four hours. I haven’t even thought about telling Micah. I probably should. The news should come from me, not from Tucker. I don’t know if he’ll even think about reaching out to my brother. Will their friendship magically turn back on again now that we’re back together? That’s shitty, if they can only be friends when we’re together. I thought their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything, even our breakup.

I win my second race, but a girl from Harvard wins the third. I’m disappointed. I could have done better. I could have—

I can only control the things within my power, the voice of my old therapist warns. Someone else running faster than me is not something I can control. I can only improve, run faster, so that I can come out on top next time.

My events are done for the day, but there are still another two hours left of the meet. I jog across to the bleachers—just for a little while. I want to sit in the stands and get the full experience.