I probably fucked up. I'm not sure how, but since I usually do, it's a solid guess.

If you asked me what happened, I couldn't tell you. I was in my happy place, giving Teags the time of her life, looking at me like she used to. Then, in a second, she went back to hating me. All because of Jeremy. Maybe he was the one who fucked up. He definitely fucked it up for me.

After I left her apartment, my dick felt bruised, my balls were empty as hell, but I still had a semi in the shower. It's impossible to watch her let herself unravel for me and not spend the rest of my time wanting to do it again.

Oof. I need to focus.

I put another fork of my microwave meal into my mouth, pretending it's takeout. Sitting cross-legged on the floor by my coffee table, I stare at my laptop screen. Just a few minutes with Teagan's spreadsheet and I know how much I'll be able to swing for the month. She's crazy, but no one can say she isn't smart as hell.

This budget situation will not work out well for me, especially during the summer when the guys want to act like high rollers everywhere we go. I remember the last time we went HAM at the club. The receipt in my pocket the next morning was something around eight grand. I doubt Vegas will be any different. At least I have access to my savings again and two weeks to add to it. Maybe I'll learn how to not blow eight grand in the meantime.

As I close the spreadsheet to get ready for work, my calendar stays up. The next thing on it is my extra shift on Friday, but nothing after it.

I stare at it, hoping I missed something from Teagan or accidentally deleted her invite. But there's nothing. "Oh, no. Please, no."

I whip out my phone and start typing a message, but stop myself. No phrasing other than "are we not fucking this week" comes to my mind, so I delete the text and call her instead.

It rings a few times while I hold my breath. Finally, she answers. "Why are you calling me?"

Lovely. "I don't have a calendar invite from you. Are we not meeting up tonight?"

"Wow, you actually looked at your calendar?"

"Yeah, look at me. I'm learning. Are we fucking or not?"

She sighs. "Yeah. Sorry, I've been wrapped up in this shit with Jeremy."

"Is he going to snitch?"

"Not if I give into his demands."

I chuckle. "We're negotiating with terrorists now?"

"He's moving in with Chet. And now he doesn't want to go to any of Ryan's events."

"Breaking a schedule and bailing on you? I'm surprised your head hasn't popped off."

"If you fuck anything else up for me, it might."

"Well . . . I've been meaning to talk to you."

There's a short pause, then the call ends. I cackle and call her back. She answers without a word.

"I was kidding! Calm down," I assure her with a laugh.

She growls in frustration. "I'm obviously not in the mood for jokes right now. I'll be over at ten." She hangs up again before I can say okay.

My smile pulls at my cheeks and my not-so-little man moves against my thigh. Just a few more hours. I can find a way to distract myself until then.

. . .

"Six more. You got this."

Shelley's face scrunches, but she pushes through with a groan. The sound excites me in ways it shouldn't. Her tight, pink workout set makes it hard not to stare. Work is the only place I keep myself from being a pig. I blame Teagan for this.

"Three . . . Two . . . Last one." She stands up, finishing the set. "Great job!"

I hold out my hand and she slaps it. The huge smile on her face makes me happy.

"And that's the end of your last session! How do you feel?"

"Good. Strong. As close to normal as I'm going to get, I think."

"You came back from a serious injury. I'm proud of you," I say to her. "If you keep wearing your brace and continue those exercises, you'll never have to come back and let me torture you again."

She looks away with that little laugh, her face turning pink. I pick the Bosu ball and bands from the floor.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you every week," she says.

"Nah, there are plenty of better ways to spend an hour than looking at my ugly mug." I smirk and her face reddens again. I know I'm hot. Back to cleaning.

"Um, Heath?" she squeaks from behind me. I look at her over my shoulder. "Now that I'm not your patient anymore . . . Would you want to go out with me sometime?"

Her boldness surprises me. For someone who seems shy, she really came right out with it. I turn to face her again. Her cheeks are bright red, but she looks me in the eyes, waiting for me to answer.

"Uh . . ."

I look at her and try to think of a nice way to say no. But why? She's hot, athletic, knows nothing about my circle or my family drama. Why the hell not?

"Yeah. That'd be cool."

Her smile widens. "Would you want to get dinner tonight?"

Her sudden confidence is kind of hot. Without thinking, I say, "Sure. Let's do it."

. . .

It's weird having to move money around to make sure I can pay for something as small as dinner, but that's my life now. I'm still surprised this is even happening. It's kind of cool. I can't remember the last time a girl asked me out, or the last time I went on a date without hoping to get laid when it was over.

I should probably feel bad that I'm going out with Shelley, knowing in three hours I'll be fucking someone else. But, I don't. Teagan won't care. The only thing in our contract is to pause if we sleep with someone else. She planned for this type of thing to happen. This is way better than some of the shit I've done before, but something about that feels off. I can't figure out what it is.

Shelley sits across the small table from me, grinning while she sips her $12 drink. It's the first time I've seen her with her hair down. The three shades of blonde hang in loose waves onto the tops of her shoulders. She doesn't wear much makeup, at least not that I notice. All I see is tan skin, wide blue eyes, and blushing cheeks.

She picked a restaurant in SoHo. A little sushi place with good vibes. The dim lights make it feel like a date, but being outdoors near the bar makes it chill. Sitting off in the corner, it's fairly quiet. It makes it easy to talk, if only I knew what to say.

"It's a little weird, isn't it?" Shelley says.

"What's weird?" I ask.

She smiles. "You know my body and my family history, but I don't even know if you like sushi."

I chuckle. "It's not that weird, I promise. And I do like sushi."

"Cool," she says with her shy smile. We both take a sip to ease the awkwardness. She perks up and leans her arms onto the table. "I know! You should give me your elevator pitch."

"My what?"

"Your elevator pitch. Sell yourself to me in thirty seconds."

I smirk. "I'll gladly sell myself to you, but you should know I'm expensive."

"You know what I mean," she giggles. "Tell me what makes Heath, Heath and why I should snatch him up before the next eligible bachelorette does."

Usually, getting naked or pulling out my black card accomplishes that, but Shelley is a nice girl. The kind of girl who doesn't want a sly line or a bow for blow. She wants something real from me. Or at least she thinks she does.

My mind flashes through all the shit that people say when they introduce me—my namesake, D-list celebrity parents, my residence, and therefore social status. None of that defines me, and it definitely isn't something I'm proud of right now.

What makes me who I am isn't any of the pretty, shiny shit. It's the things nice girls don't want to hear.

We'll skip to the good parts.

"Do you want to know why I became a physical therapist?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'd love that."

"Okay, well . . . Back in high school, I got scouted for the soccer pro leagues. A group of big-name recruiters came out to watch one of my games, and about twenty minutes in, I took a cleat to the thigh and snapped my femur."

Her mouth drops open. "Oh my God!"

"Yeah, it was pretty gnarly." My fingers trace the outline of the scars most people don't notice beneath my partial pe'a. "I had to kiss my career prospects goodbye, and I had to relearn how to walk."

"Wow. You definitely sold me," she says with a look of wonder. "Tell me more!"

More? "All right." I pause for a second, thinking through how I can dodge the parts that aren't so wow. "After losing my chance to be in the pros, I was deep in my feelings about it. But then . . ." I try to find the right words to explain it. "My best friend's little brother got into a bad car accident and almost died."

"Oh, God."

"He separated his spine and the doctors said he would most likely end up with quadriplegia. My friend and I were really close back then, so it felt like he was my little brother, too. His rehab started right after mine, but it was obviously a million times harder for him. He didn't want to do it—but I knew the shock of getting news like that made it easy to want to give up. So, I did what no one else wanted to do."

"What was that?"

"I didn't let him say no."

Shelley stares at me, hanging on every word. Her eyes wide, her chin resting in her palm as she waits for me to tell her more.

"I went to rehab with him every day, made sure he did everything the doctors said. Once I recovered, I was there with him even more, taking him to PT, watching every inch he progressed. He beat the odds and regained a lot of his mobility and strength. Being there to witness it was the best feeling."

She shakes her head, a smile spreads across her face. "Wow," she whispers.

I've never been able to tell the story that way. Everyone else knows what happened or they're not interested in hearing about it. Levi changed me, and I don't think anyone but Teagan knows that.

"Do you still see him?" she asks.

"Yeah, but not as much anymore. His sister and I aren't as close as we were then."

"Why not?"

I shrug for her benefit, but I know the answer. Any happy feelings that story brings me fade fast when I think about what happened right after. So, I don't think about it at all. "People just grow apart sometimes," is all I say.

She keeps cheesing at me. "You're amazing, Heath. I mean that."

I love a woman who can stroke my ego, but for some reason, I'm not here for it right now. In a rare moment, I change the subject. "It's your turn. Tell me what makes Shelley, Shelley."

. . .

"Are you sure I can't give you a lift?" she offers again.

Shelley is cool. She's an elementary school teacher from Jersey, the only girl in a happy family of four. She's much better than I expected. Much better than I deserve, if we're being real. "No, seriously. I live close."

"All right. Well. . . I had a great time tonight."

"I did too."

As I start to say I'll call her, she leans up and presses her lips against mine.

Her kiss is soft and timid like she is. My hand floats over her cheek, not knowing whether to pull her closer or push her away. I let it drop.

It feels nice. Kissing. Being wanted.

She pulls away. Her eyes cast down, cheeks bright red. "Call me, okay?" Her eyes flutter up.

"Okay."

Her little smile returns. "Bye, Heath."

"Bye, Shelley."

She shuffles away and I laugh to myself. What the hell just happened?

Wait. What the hell just happened?

. . .

My unease grows the closer I get to home. I still feel her lips on mine, and with that feeling comes guilt. It's not like this is new for me. My track record with relationships isn't exactly stellar, so I don't know why I feel so thrown for a loop.

Teagan is leaning against the wall by my front door, staring down at her phone.  "Hey," I greet her. Her eyes find mine, and somehow, she doesn't look pissed. "Am I late again?"

She smirks. "Of course you are."

I unlock my door and we go inside. Without talking, we head, drop the contents of our pockets onto the island counter, and go to the bedroom. She pushes me to sit on the edge of the bed, then climbs up onto her knees, one on each side of my thighs. I hold her hips when she sits, my dick swells with every heartbeat.

She pulls at the buttons of my shirt, unfastening them lower and lower. Is she going to wonder why I'm dressed up?

"Hey," I start to tell her, but the second the word leaves my mouth, I regret it.

She glances up for a second but returns her attention to my shirt. "What?"

I hesitate. I'm dying to get my dick sucked, but I also don't want her to flip out on me if I wait to tell her until after. "Um . . . So . . . I kind of went on a date."

She rips my belt from the loops, an unamused look on her face. "Congratulations."

"No, like . . ." I trail off when she pulls her shirt off over her head, her nipples visible under the thin red lace. Why am I still talking? "I went on a date tonight."

She stops moving. Her eyes narrow. "Okay?"

"That's cool with you, right?"

She sits up straighter, glaring down at me. "Did you fuck her?"

"No."

"Then why are you telling me about it?"

I blink a few times. "I don't know."

"Great. Now stop talking." She pushes me to my back and unfastens my fly. A smile pulls at my lips.

_____

Don't yell at Shelley, she's a nice lady. Are you mad at Heath or is he doing exactly as expected?

Thanks for reading!