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“Trust me, I prefer that version of myself too,” I mutter.
“You two need to just talk it out.” When I send him a questioning look, he continues, “Ava. You need to talk to her.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I glance down at the old, scarred wooden table, my vision growing hazy, my thoughts full of the beautiful green-eyed girl who’s turned my world completely upside down. I miss her. I’m furious with her. I love her. I don’t want to look at her.
It’s confusing as hell.
“I don’t know what to do. Every time I open my mouth, I ruin it. No one’s on my side. They’re all on Ava’s. Even you guys,” I say miserably.
Tony sighs. “Look, regarding Caleb and Diego. All this trouble between you and Ava reminds them of high school. When it was very much an us versus you mentality. Don’t forget, we were all Jake’s friends first. You mess with Ava, you mess with us too. That’s how we used to roll.”
“That’s how you guys still roll.” I curl my hand into a fist and lightly tap the edge of the table. “I’ve lived with Caleb the last couple of years. He’s one of my closest friends. And that guy is still going to take Ava’s side over mine, thanks to his friendship with Jake.”
“He was just giving you shit.” Tony brushes it off, waving his hand. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“That guy is full of golden advice when he wants to give it.” It’s surprisingly true. I’ve heard many a wise word fall from Caleb’s lips, but not lately.
“Right. But he can also be an idiot who says whatever comes to him at any given moment. Don’t let him bring you down. And don’t think he doesn’t have your back. He does. We all do.” He pauses. “Even me.”
I decide to be brutally honest. “Feels like it was difficult for you to say that.”
“It wasn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “I like you, Bennett. But more than anything, I respect you. You did a complete turn-around this last year. You went from being an emotional player who let every little thing get to you, and turned yourself into a focused QB with solid leadership qualities. The team admires you. They want to please you like you’re our dad or something, and it’s pretty incredible.”
I just stare at him, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying.
“You’re having an off moment, and you’re letting all of those emotions get in your head again.” He taps his temple with his index finger. “Everything’s living right there, messing with your focus. Your game. What’s going to fix it?”
“I was starting to think having sex with Ava was fucking with my game.” The words fall from my lips without thought. “I mean, look at me. We do it in the back seat of my car and now I can’t play for shit.”
Tony chuckles. “I really doubt having sex with Ava is ruining your game play.”
“Whatever. It’s possible.”
I’m being ridiculous.
I think of us in the back seat Saturday night. How eager I was to get her naked. Get inside of her. And how I ruined it all after we were done. She haunts me to the point of madness. I can see her face right now, just after she pulled on my hoodie, all sex-rumpled and gorgeous, and hurt.
So fucking hurt.
All because of me.
“I’m a dick,” I say, then blow out a harsh breath. I prop my elbows on the table and hold my head in my hands. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Talk to her.” He keeps saying that, everyone does. But it’s not that easy. A conversation isn’t going to fix us.
“I tried that.” I lift my eyes to his. “I ended up fucking her in the back seat of my car and making everything else worse.”
He doesn’t even flinch. God, if I had even fifty percent of this guy’s calmness, I’d be a totally different person. “You love her?”
“Yes,” I croak, sounding like I was just diagnosed with an incurable disease.
“Are you in love with her?”
I lift my head and drop my arms onto the table. “Of course I am. I’ve been in love with that girl for what feels like forever. She lives inside of me.” I rest my hand against my chest like some dramatic emo kid.
“Then why can’t you say sorry for being a jackass and move on? The longer you keep this up, the more you’re driving her away.”
I absorb what Tony just said, watching him drink from his glass. Watching still as he checks his phone. He taps out a quick text, his lips curved into a barely-there smile, and I know immediately who he’s texting.
