“YOLO,” Dylan says.
“That’s Drake’s motto,” Mitch responds.
“And mine.”
“And mine,” I say, taking another sip of the smoothie.
“Which is why I’m wondering why things didn’t work out,” Rodney says again. I feel my face grow hot, but I don’t make a show out of it. Thankfully, I’m in the front seat and can just look out the window and let Dylan answer this.
“Misty says she’d never date an athlete,” Dylan says. “I respect that.”
“Is that true?” Mitch glances over at me as he parks the car in front of Boshamer Stadium.
I get out of the car quickly, pulling the lever so my seat moves forward and the guys can get out. While they get their bags out of the trunk, I scroll through my emails and texts and sip on the smoothie, then follow behind them as they walk toward the building. Mitch slows down and walks beside me as I continue reading through the group text between myself, Soleil, and Jo.
“You never answered me,” Mitch says, pulling my attention away from my phone and up at him, confused. “You really wouldn’t date an athlete?”
“Oh.” I let out a laugh. “Been there, done that.”
“Right, but that was a long time ago.” His brows pull in.
“It was and it wasn’t.” I shrug.
“So if I ask you out on a date, you’d say no.”
My heart leaps, slamming into its cage. I swallow. “I’d definitely say no.”
“Hm.”
He makes no further comment as we walk inside the building, but if I know one thing about Mitchell it’s that he can’t leave anything alone.
Chapter Eight
The coffee shop is buzzing when I walk inside. There are people everywhere, sitting, standing, talking, working. There’s something to be said about what spring does to people. Both Archer and Austin are behind the bar making drinks and taking orders. I speed up and walk back there, going into the back room to put my things down before pulling an apron over my head and tying it around my waist as I say hi to the guys and clock in. Austin and I haven’t spoken since our date a couple of nights ago and there’s no time right now while it’s this busy in here. I continue taking orders while they make the drinks and once the door stops opening and new customers stop coming in, the three of us let out a collective breath and lean against the counter.
“So,” Austin starts, “how’s it going with the story?”
“It’s going. I just had them drop me off here in between their lifting session and practice. I’ll tell you what, I did not expect this to be the life of a college athlete. They just don’t stop.”
“And they don’t even get paid,” Archer says. “Are you including that in your article?”
“Of course. I mean, it is a valid point, right? The school can’t make me ineligible for graduation for pointing out the obvious.” I bite my lower lip, brows pinching. “Right?”
“They’re literally facing charges right now,” Austin says. “Those athletes, I mean. Who knows what will happen to the athletic departments.”
“Yeah, didn’t they want you guys to paint them in a good light?” Archer asks.
“Well, of course they do, but this is journalism. I’m not going to sugarcoat what’s happening. Besides, the school not paying athletes is on the organizations, not on the athletes themselves.”
“What do they say about it?” Austin pushes off the counter and faces me.
“I haven’t asked.”
“Let me know what they say when you do. I’m curious about that,” Archer says as he also pushes off the counter and pushes the door that leads to the back. “I’ll be right back.”
“So,” Austin says after a moment. “I know you’ve been busy, so I wasn’t sure if I should call or text but text felt too impersonal since it’s what we do now, not that I don’t like what we do now, but I wasn’t sure where you stood on maybe going out with me again.” His face turns a deeper shade of red with each word he says before he finally shuts his mouth and glances away momentarily.
“I wouldn’t . . . ” I pause with a sigh. Now it’s my turn to glance away as I gather my thoughts, finally settling on, “You know how much I like you.”
“As a friend,” he provides.
“Yes.” I bite my lip, hoping my expression shows how regretful I am about it. “As a friend.”
“I figured.”
“I’m sorry.” I shut my eyes. “I know it’s super cliché, but it really isn’t you, it’s me.”
“I know.” The certainty in his tone makes my eyes pop open. “I know you’re weird about dating, which is why I was surprised when you agreed to go out with me. I do wish things were different though.”
“Me too.” I try for a smile, but it feels weak.
“So, forget another date. I don’t want things to be weird with us here or anything,” he says. “How ‘bout you drive me to Target after we close?”
“More Pokémon cards?” I let out a laugh.
“Hey, my connection there says the guy is restocking tonight.”
“Sure.” I shrug a shoulder. “It’s not like I have anything going on.”
To say the Target parking lot is crowded would be an understatement. Austin shifts in the passenger seat, swearing under his breath. I bite the inside of my cheek and look out the window to keep from laughing. This is not a guy who upsets easily, so this must be a big deal.
“He must have told other people.” He starts typing furiously on his phone again. “By the time we get inside everything is going to be gone.”
“Shouldn’t we just go inside and see for ourselves?”
“Sure.” He’s out of the car before I can say another word.
I turn it off, grab my purse from the back seat, and rush after him. Inside the store, it looks like it does any other day, but there’s a large crowd around the aisle beside the register.
“Wow,” is all I can say. “I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. All of these people are here for Pokémon cards?”
“Yep.” Austin exhales heavily. “Wait here.”
I nod and step aside. There’s no way I’m getting involved in a scuffle over trading cards. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I’m grateful for the distraction. I take it out and look at the screen to find a text from an unknown, New York, number.
Hey. It’s Mitch. Are you coming home any time soon?
My heart skips. How’d you get my number?
I never deleted it.
Why? It’s not like you ever used it.
Did you want me to use it?
I start typing out a response, and then stop and delete it. I hate myself for being so emotionally invested in a man who broke my heart without a second thought, and that’s the thing, I am emotionally invested. I’m not delusional enough to say that I’m not. It just kills me that I can’t be emotionally invested in a guy like Austin instead. Or Dylan. Or anyone else I’ve even remotely tried to date through the years. After Mitch, there was one guy I dated for a little while and all I did was break his heart because he couldn’t repair mine. It’s taken years of rehearsing the cold-hearted bitch act. Years of acting like he doesn’t affect me when he talks to me, flirts with me, tries to make moves on me. I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I stand on my own and know my worth. The next time I fall, it won’t be so hard because I never want to be in a place where I can’t lift myself back up.