We barely make it half a mile in the Uber before I’m crawling out of my skin with the need to say something. Our driver’s upbeat, Korean pop music is pulsing in the speakers, the surprisingly fitting soundtrack to my chaotic thoughts. Every moment of the last two hours flashes in my mind like one of those old school slide projector things. The images are spinning, spinning—
“What does this mean?” I blurt out.
Next to me, Rachel goes stiff, and I hear Caleb’s muttered ‘fuck’s sake’. What? Do they actually expect me to have a threesome in a mop closet and have no comment? Have they even met me?
“Get over yourself, Cay. We had sex, and I wanna talk about it.”
“Maybe wait until we’re in private, asshole,” Caleb mutters.
“I won’t say anything,” our driver calls from the front seat in a sing-song voice.
“Yeah, see? Melanie won’t say anything,” I say with a wave of my hand.
Rachel’s gaze flashes from me to the driver, her mouth opening in horror. “You know her?”
“What—no—her name is right fucking there.” I point to the hot pink laminated sign she’s taped up on her dash that says ‘Hi, I’m Melanie’ in five languages.
Rachel groans, and now I’m officially starting to panic. She regrets it. She’s pulling back again. God, I can’t win with this girl! It’s always one step forward and five steps back.
I mean, sure, Caleb is a bit of a surprise. He’s been such a surly asshole since his accident that I was starting to wonder if he’d just sworn off romance altogether. I’m not surprised that he’s interested in her because she’s totally his type. And I’m not surprised at all that she’s interested in him because, again, he’s kind of totally her type—
And that’s when my heart drops out of my chest.
Jake Compton, you’re a fucking idiot.
I’m gonna remember this moment forever, sitting in the back of an Uber with my best friend and the love of my fucking life while “So Hot” by the Wonder Girls plays on the radio. This is the moment I realized it’s me. I’m the problem. They don’t want to talk about the possibility of more because they both want less. One person less.
Heart in fucking pieces, I glance over at them. I didn’t even notice that Caleb took her hand. Their fingers are entwined atop his knee.
“Yeah, alright,” I say. “It’s fine. I get it.”
I’m not gonna give them the benefit of seeing me fall apart in this fucking Uber. As soon as I get back to my hotel room, I’m calling my sister Amy. A tough guy can cry to his twin without any fear of judgement.
And in the morning, I’ll reach out to my agent. Surely, there’s some team in the League open to a mid-season trade. Because one thing is for damn sure: it was hard enough leaving Seattle knowing I would never see Rachel again. No way in hell am I going to live in the same city, play on the same team, and have her always just out of my reach. Fuck being friends. I want all or nothing. If she doesn’t want my all, then I have to be strong enough to live with nothing.
