Page 67 of Lucky Laces

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This isn’t the easy silence of eating and watching a Breakers game on my TV.

This is…

Dinner is over and the game is on intermission and I’m fine and…

She’s still here.

She could go.

I’m good.

But she’s here, and I don’t know how to proceed—or even if weshouldproceed.Was this a one-off?Or are we…doing this?

And, if so, what isthis?

Player and coach time?

Definitely not.

Friends with benefits?

Sort of.But also…no.

Yeah, we’ve done the sex and we’re hanging out, eating together, watching a game on TV.

But it’s not just that.

She’s here in my house.On my couch.We’re spending time together.We’re eating together.Again.We’re talking (well, except for right now).We’re fucking explosive in bed.She held my goddamned hand while I was in the hospital, while Doc stitched me up, stepped in to create a barrier between me and my parents and brought me to her house to keep me safe.

That’s not nothing.

It’ssomething.

Something that means something.

And great, now I sound like an idiotic life coach on social media.

The point is…

Fuck it.

I’m going to do this—take what she’s giving me.The time, the space, the touching, the eating together, the talking (and also, the silence).I’m going take it all, and if I can manage it, I’m going to figure out how to keep her.

Forever.

I just…need to figure out what I should say next.

Especially since the silence has now grown to epic proportions.

I mentally groan then open my mouth, not sure what I’m going to say, just certain that at some point I’m going to have to saysomething, idiotic life coach vibes or not.

But I don’t get the chance—or maybe it’s more like I’m saved by the bell, er, phone so I don’thaveto.

Dee’s cell rings.

And instead of answering it, she freezes.

Right.

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