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“I wish a fuckable football player wanted to be my baby daddy.” Penny puts her hand up in the air as if she’s in class, waiting to be picked. “Hell to the yeah, I’m totally down with that.”
I smirk and see my phone vibrate, once again. I ignore it a second time and flick it on silent.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Penelope huffs in disgust.
“I tell him all the time to go find someone else.”
“You actually say that to him? Go find someone else.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And yet he calls you every night for a booty call, which you conveniently take him up on.”
I shrug. “He’s just so hot, and we're friends.”
The girls laugh.
“I don’t want a relationship.” I sip my drink. “But I’m not completely stupid.”
My phone begins to ring, and I know I have to answer it. He won’t stop calling until I do.
“I’m just going to take this. Back in a minute,” I say to the girls. “Hi,” I answer as I walk toward the front door of the bar.
“Are you ignoring my texts?”
“Of course, I am.” I push the heavy front door open and walk out onto the footpath. “Fuck, its freezing out here.” I pull my jacket closed.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I told you, I’m out with the girls tonight.” I glance at my watch. “Why are you still awake? It’s 2:00 a.m.”
“Because I’m fucking horny, and I need my girl to come and sort me out.”
“Duke.” I smile. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don’t even know where to start.”
“Just get over here, woman.”
Hmm… tempting.
Duke Montana is a gorgeous pro-footballer with more groupies than sense.
Has me on speed dial.
He’s two years younger than me, at six-foot four with a body to die for. He’s the golden boy of his sport with a tall, muscular physique. He has sandy blonde hair with big brown eyes, and not to mention insanely talented. Both in and out of the bedroom.
We met three years ago in Manchester when I was at university and he was playing for United. We were both new in town, and on a particularly rainy week we ran into each other in a launderette, of all places. We got chatting while waiting for our washing to dry. We went to dinner, he came back to my place, and we ended up having sex for the entire weekend. He was exactly what I needed at that time, and I think I was the same for him.
We’re close friends—the kind with benefits—and I think we know each other better than anyone else. But lately, things have changed.
He’s getting clingy.
He plays for Arsenal now. He recently moved to London, and he’s ruining everything. He’s given me an ultimatum more than once: either be his fulltime girlfriend or he won’t see me anymore.
I wish I could settle down and want what he wants, because he really is a special guy… but, I don’t know. I can’t even put my finger on the problem.
He demands answers, we fight, but he always calls me the next day, and we always end up sleeping together and then not talking about anything too deep.
Until two weeks later when it happens again.
I decided two weeks ago when he had his last meltdown that I’m going to wean him off me.
I really care about him, and my plan is to distance myself enough so that he has to go and meet someone else. Someone who can love him the way he deserves to be loved. I’m not her. I wish that I was.
Who knows what the future holds?
“Seriously, April. Just get over here,” he
My gaze drops to the ground beneath me as I run my toe over a join in the concrete.
“Duke.” I smile sadly. “Remember, we talked about this.”
“I know, but I need you.”
“Sweetie.” I sigh, feeling guilty.
God, I need to break it off all together. This isn’t fair to him. But he makes it damn hard when he’s so good in bed.
“I don’t care, just get over here.”
“I’m not finished with the girls. I’m going to be a while.”
“That’s okay.”
I point my toe and trace a line on the concrete. “Why don’t you ring one of your groupies? There are a million girls who are totally in love with you.” This is the weird thing. I have zero fucks about who he sleeps with besides me, and that’s how I know it’s wrong.
“I don’t want a groupie, I want you.”
This is going to end badly, and I really don’t want to lose his friendship. “I’ll see.”
“I won’t sleep unless I know you’re coming.”
“Fine.” I widen my eyes in exasperation.
“Okay,” he says softly, and I can tell he’s smiling.
“Duke…”
“Yes.”
“This has to stop.”
He stays silent.
“Okay?”
“We have the museum thing on Saturday night, remember?” he reminds me.
“Seriously?”
“You promised me you would come.”
