I swallow my food and take a sip of mimosa. “They’re not that bad.”
Sara laughs, pointing her fork at me. “You’re just in denial because Owen is your brother and you love him, but girl.” She shakes her head. “They are worse than that bad. Teddy is, well, Teddy, and he went all TMI on me last time we went out. About how they’re all on Tinder before the plane even touches down during away games. How they have strategies to sneak girls into the hotel, even if it’s past curfew. Trust me. They sleep around with as much enthusiasm as they play hockey.”
Bailey launches into a story about Justin get- ting head from one girl while he made out with an- other at a club last year, and I suddenly feel sick.
I drain the last of my mimosa and set the empty glass down a little harder than I intended to.
Becca gazes at me with a look of sympathy.
“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Becca warns. “I’m sure Elise doesn’t want to hear these kinds of stories about her brother.”
Sara takes another bite, shaking her head. “We weren’t talking about Owen. We were talking about Justin.”
Bailey makes a noise of disagreement. “Yes but Justin’s practically like a brother to Elise too.”
Um, no.
Not even close.
No longer hungry, I push my plate away, and when the waitress approaches, I order a second mi- mosa. I’m not sure why I’m so upset. None of what they’ve said is new information to me. I guess it’s just that I have no idea if we’re exclusive and if we’re not, I don’t want to do this if we’re not. I don’t want feelings involved but I also don’t want to sleep with him if he’s still sleeping around when he’s on the road. I’ve been hurt by him before and it would crush me to know that I’m nothing but a number to him, someone to warm his bed on the off-nights that he’s not taking a puck bunny home.
Obviously the champagne has gone to my head, because I fish my phone out of my purse, and compose a text to him under the table.
You know what, I changed my mind about this week.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
His reply comes in a few seconds later.
Why? Did I do something wrong?
I scoff, and set my cell in my lap. I don’t want to start a fight with him right now. I don’t want to talk about any of this. The truth is, my girlfriends are right. He gets so much regular sex, my absence in his bed won’t matter. He’ll hardly even notice it. The anger simmering under the surface rises to a low boil. I can’t believe I thought this idiotic plan would ever work. I close my eyes and draw a deep breath, deciding on a simple, straight-forward re- ply.
I can’t talk right now.
Bailey and Becca are talking about seeing the new rom com that’s releasing in theaters this week, and I mumble something about joining them. But I’m so distracted. And now pissed off. I feel my phone vibrate and I look down to see another text from him.
If this is what you want, I’ll respect your decision. But we’re going to talk about this.
I roll my eyes, my fingers flying over the keys
as I reply.
I’d rather not be exposed to whatever you pick up from all the women in your bed.
After several seconds of silence, I assume he’s not going to text me back, mostly likely because he’s got no come-back for that. Which only makes me feel worse, because it means I’m right. I didn’t want to be right. But at least I found this out now before I got in too deep.
But then my phone is ringing. I look down. He’s calling me. Why the hell is he calling me right now?
I hit ignore and send the call to voicemail. Bec- ca is watching me, obviously wondering what the hell is going on. My phone starts vibrating again, and I slide from the booth, with the excuse of need- ing to go to the bathroom.
In the back hallway near the restrooms, I an- swer my phone.
“Yes?” I say, tone clipped.
I hear a door closing, and I picture him going into his bedroom to get privacy away from Owen.
“Elise? What the hell is going on?” he says, tone filled with confusion.
“You tell me.” I place one hand on my hip, waiting for his reply. It feels like so long ago that we were in my kitchen, kissing and drinking coffee and making plans.
“I don’t know what you think this is between us,” he says. “But while we’re doing this, I have no plans to be with anyone else. And I get tested regularly. The whole team does.”
And now I feel bad because I never meant to imply that he had a sexually transmitted disease, I was just frustrated over the thought of being one of many. Even if we are just messing around, it’s still a big deal to me.
I lick my lips and take a deep breath. “What are you saying? Are we exclusive? We’re just messing around right? It wouldn’t be fair to expect that of you.”
He lets out a tense breath. “Let me help you understand this. First, hell yes we’re exclusive. For whatever this is and however long it lasts, I’m not fucking anyone but you. And you’re sure as hell not fucking anyone else either.”
The knot in my stomach suddenly eases. “Oh,
okay.”
“Okay? We’re good then?” he says. “Yeah.”
Justin chuckles, the sound warm and soft and all the tension melts away. “Are you still at brunch?”
“Yes. And I better, um, go.”
He makes a sound of disagreement. “We’re go- ing to talk more about this.”
“Justin…” I plead, gazing back at our table.
“I’m serious, Elise. The next time I see you I want to know who or what got into your head and made you think you were just a casual fuck buddy to me. I’ve known you for damn near my entire life. Don’t you think that means something?”
My stomach swarms with butterflies and I nod, before realizing I’ve gone entirely mute. “I ---”
“You’re going to tell me, and if you don’t, I have ways of getting the information out of you, you know.”
“Okay, we can talk later, but I really do have to go.” Before I do or say anything else to embar- rass myself. And with that, I hang up and stuff my phone in my back pocket to re-join my girlfriends
at the table.