He rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his black skinny jeans. “If I book a week in advance and something doesn’t come up with work.”
“You knew I had a high-demand job that took me out of town a lot.”
“I know. You work for the Toronto Twisters, and meeting everyone had been great, but I feel like you’re always at their beck and call, not mine.”
Hold up.“Their beck and call?” I echoed like a freaking parrot.
Before I could respond, his friend came up and said something only he could hear. The way he interrupted us had me thinking he’d either not known what was happening, or just didn’t care. My guess was the latter. They fist bumped andjust as his asshole friend was about to leave, he winked at me.
“Hey, uh, happy birthday. Great place.”
I hadn’t missed the sarcasm.
“Excuse us, we’re not done here.” I glared at the guy.
He glanced at Wes before turning back to me. “I think you are.”
Wes barely even looked at me before they strutted away, gathering the rest of their what seemed to be groupies and not coworkers. I stood there for a moment, stunned. Did that just happen? I caught one more glance of Wes’s back as one of the petite blondes looped her arm through his as they walked out the door.
What an absolute fucker.
The entire cab ride home, I was an incoherent, blubbering mess. Nora was doing her best to comfort me, but it was a lost cause at this point.
“I didn’t even get cake,” I whined as we entered our place.
“Bitch, please. You think I’d let this day go without a birthday cake?” She walked over to the freezer, opening it slowly to reveal my favorite chocolate Deep ‘n’ Delicious cake. I clapped and squealed. “We have rules in this house and number one is there is always a birthday cake.”
She grabbed two spoons and plopped them in the pan.
Moping was of no use. Yet here I was two days later, still in bed, sobbing off and on. It only proved Nora’s point that I was a doormat when it came to men. My most recent exes ranged from guys with mommy issues, to the career challenged, and even an “it’s complicated” guy who ended up being married.Yeah, never trust that profile tag.Why couldn't I just find someone who got me?
Nora was right, I always went for the wrong guys.Thefixers.I thought I had changed my ways when I met Wes at a Twisters game. He was a little uptight and his friends were similar, but I felt like I was hanging out with the ultra-cool kids back in high school, down to the mean-girl attitudes. I was a glutton and tried to fit in. But my love of baseball, bad-bitch music, and steak, never fit, no matter how hard I tried. When Wes and I were out, it felt like a social experiment, but behind closed doors, we matched in more ways than one. That was probably why we stayed together for the past eight months.
He was right, thinking back. I was deluding myself. We barely had time together and when we did, we got drinks, went to his place, and banged. I was never allowed to stay the night. Wes said he couldn’t sleep next to anyone. The signs were clear and I’d misread them. We were just fuck buddies.
My bedroom door swung open and startled the shit out of me. I clutched my sheets to my chest as Nora shouted, “Get out of the damn bed and go shower! I can smell you from my room.”
I huffed. “It’s not that bad.”
She cocked her head and raised her sculpted eyebrow. “You smell like the ass of a donkey who had an orgy in a barn behind the garbage dump.”
“Ouch,” I replied, tucking my nose towards my chest and sniffing. It took every ounce of energy to suppress my gag.It was that bad.Groaning, I rolled out of bed, stepping over the litter of takeout and boxed wine.
“And clean your room!” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Yes, Mom!” I hollered back, only to hear the front door of our condo close.
I mulled around the pile of trash, deciding to clean before taking a shower. I went into the kitchen, grabbed a large black garbage bag, and picked up the trail of litter from the kitchen to my room. By the look of the takeout bins and over-spilling food, you would have thought thiswas the aftereffects of a frat party and not a two-day pity party.
After I was done, I jumped in the shower and did the same to myself. I scrubbed away all the memories of Wes. Or at least tried to.
Monday morning came and I decided to let go of the disappointment of the weekend and focus on work. Since I couldn’t sleep, I headed in early. The stadium was quiet, except for the humming of the floor-cleaning machine making its rounds. Most of the lights were still dimmed when I entered the training room. I left in my earbuds and cranked up Marianas Trench. The mood hit just right as I belted it out, cleaning off the equipment before the team strolled in. Something about the process was therapeutic, not to mention the angry screaming of the lyrics was on point for me, as I danced throughout the space until it was over.
A loud whistle startled me.
“Encore!” Josh snickered from the doorway in his navy Twisters sweats and fitted soft grey t-shirt that clung to his strong arms. His hat was flipped backwards and his gear bag was dropped at his feet. Why did he look so freaking good in sweats and I looked like I barely escaped the aftermath of my emotional weekend in mine?
“What are you doing here so early?”
