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“Yeah, I agree. We can’t tell her about me and Des right away, though. That’s too much. She needs to get used to the idea of us not being together. Her well-being comes first.”

“Like always, we’re on the same page.” She nudges me. “We’re really fucking good at this exes thing.”

“We’re really fucking good at this best friends thing.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. “I love you, Ree.”

“I love you too, Oak. You have this ideal that you have to be perfect, but you’re human. None of us is perfect. We’re all flawed. That’s what it means to be alive.”

She’s right…I do. I don’t ever want to mess up. I don’t know how to not be who everyone needs me to be, but I am flawed—flawed and layered and real, and that’s okay. “Thank you,” I tell her. It feels like I’m always telling her that.

“Movie night?” she asks. It’s something we’ve always done together, and I think I need that tonight.

“Movie night,” I agree. “Go get one ready. I’ll make popcorn and message Des.”

She disappears into the living room while I pull out my phone.

Me: Everything is okay. I’m spending some time with Serena tonight, then Tiana tomorrow. Can I see you Tuesday night?

When I plan to tell him I love him. I don’t want to wait any longer.

Des: Yeah, Oak. We can do that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Desmond

I’m checking my phone way too often, hoping for a text from Oakley.

I haven’t heard from him since last night, when he just told me everything was okay, and he’d see me on Tuesday, but I have no fucking clue what okay means. There are a million different possibilities, and while I have to believe his asking to see me on Tuesday and saying everything is okay also means that he and I are good, there’s a part of me that still feels like I’m going to lose him. Like he got things sorted with his family, but that doesn’t include me; that his family can’t accept me being in Oakley’s life that way, and he would have to choose them—obviously he would. I’d expect nothing less.

I hate this side of me, the one that’s so fucking insecure when it comes to love.

I’m distracted all morning during practice, then when we watch film together as a team. I’m in a nearly empty locker room, sitting on the bench, looking at my phone yet again, when Juju sits beside me. “You good?”

He’s a perceptive fucker. He always seems to be able to read people’s moods. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I should be.”

“There is no should be when it comes to how you feel. Not like that, of course. Lay it on me.”

I chuckle. “I’m not sure you want me to do that.”

“What are teammates for, man?”

My old team wasn’t this way. It’s just another reminder that I made the right decision asking for a trade from Kansas City. Still, I can’t tell him what’s going on with me, not with all the details, considering many of the details are Oakley’s story to tell. “Relationship stuff.”

“What’s going on with her?”

“Him,” I admit.

“What’s going on with him?” he asks smoothly, not faltering. I knew I liked him.

“I can’t really say much. It’s complicated.”

He takes a deep breath, a heavy one that tells me he’s got a story of his own. “Yeah, I get complicated. Try having feelings for a guy who hates you, a guy whose life you ruined.”

I whip my head in his direction, realizing that Juju not only just came out to me, but, at least in part, acknowledged some of his pain.

“Shit, man. That’s tough. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I have my own reasons I can’t, as well. I will take you out to dinner, though. We can complain about men without telling each other what the fuck is really going on.”