Page 18 of Offsides

I splutter some more. “I thought that’s what you wanted!”

Stepping in closer until I could easily kiss her again—and my dumbass dick perks up, thinking maybe she’ll kiss me this time—but with fury stamped on her face, she hisses, “I wanted a friend who’s not an idiot. Who doesn’t see me as ‘one of the guys’ for our entire relationship and then the one time I dress up like a girl—as you so eloquently put it—you try to put the moves on me. There is no pretending it never happened. Because itdidhappen. And it means something, whether you want to admit it or not. Either you’re an asshole who only thinks with his dick just like the majority of your teammates and kissing me really meant nothing to you once you finally saw me as just another pussy, or you’re an asshole who’s too afraid to mean it because it might backfire.”

She steps back. “Whichever it is, just own it. Quit pretending like we’re just friends, though. Because obviously we aren’t. Not anymore.”

With that parting shot, she walks away. I watch her make her way to Autumn, who’s now on the couch with Jackson, and bend to talk to her. And fuck me, her skirt rides up enough that I canalmostsee if she’s wearing panties tonight or not.

Autumn shoots a glare at me as Dani moves away. But I’m not in the mood to deal with Autumn tonight.

Instead, I turn back to the array of drinks next to me, grab the bottle of tequila and a cup, give myself a heavy pour and a squeeze of lime and down it like water.

If I’m well and truly fucked—which I clearly am—I might as well do what I can to numb the pain. At least for tonight.

CHAPTER NINE

Dani

Furious, I stomp into the night, angry at everything. At my stupid heels. At my eyes prickling with tears. At the cold wind blowing right up my tiny skirt.

But most of all at Eli.

Some best friend he turns out to be.

How is it that I’ve lost both the guy I always expected to end up with and the guy who I’d inadvertently made my stand-in boyfriend in the space of a month?

What the fuck is happening with my life right now?

I make my way to Autumn’s car, grateful that she let me take it. I promised I’d come back and pick her up if she wanted, but she waved me off and said she was sure she could find her way home somehow.

Whatever Eli’s problem is with her, she’s always been a good friend to me. To all of us, really.

God, do I just have terrible taste in guys all around? First Luke and now Eli? Or are all guys just raging assholes and there’s no such thing as choosing a good one?

Climbing into her yellow Camry, I sniff loudly as I put the key in the ignition. I really don’t want to cry. Ihatecrying. But I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep this one down no matter how hard I try.

Fucking Eli, with his fucking moody glares. He looked hot, actually, and at first I was happy to see him. I’d stupidly thought he was going to rescue me from the frothing group of football players who suddenly realized I have tits.

Instead, he made me feel like a whore for showing up at a party looking like a girl. Not just a girl, but agirl, said like it’s the most offensive thing I could possibly be. As though I’m not actually a girl anyway.

And what’s wrong with being a girl? What’s wrong withmebeing a girl? Why are other girls allowed to be girls, but when I actually look like one, it’s this astonishing, stupefying thing?

Not astonishing and stupefying in a good way, mind you. Astonishing in the same way as if a bear showed up at your door and asked to be invited in for tea.

Angry tears leak from my eyes, and I swipe them away, frustrated at myself and the whole stupid night.

I should’ve known better. I should’ve known that I wouldn’t be able to show up at a party dressed up like this without everyone noticing. And not just noticing, but commenting and acting like the world’s turned upside down.

I guess it has, though, hasn’t it?

In what world would I, a dedicated joggers and sweatshirt enthusiast, show up in public with my hair styled, wearing makeup and skimpy clothes?

Is this what a quarter-life crisis feels like? I mean, it’s a few years early, but …

With a grunt, I sniff, blink away the tears still trying to escape, and head home.

* * *

The next morning I wake up with eyes gritty and puffy from crying. I drowned my sorrows in Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream that I picked up at a gas station on the way home while watching some old rom-com on Netflix.

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