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Does Marvel count?
Yes, but it’s in a different sub-category
Then yes
I’m making several additions to the movie list
Finally
It’s on the notepad on my desk
When are you getting home tomorrow? Too late to watch one?
That’s never stopped me
No movies until I greet you properly, though
Define ‘properly’
:)
30
SEBASTIAN
“Sure you don’t wantto come out with us?” Rafael asks from the doorway. “Julio found a decent bar. You could test the waters.”
I just pull my t-shirt over my head, stifling a yawn—and a wince. I tweaked my finger while making a sliding catch during the game earlier, and while it’s not serious by any means, the trainer still sent me to my room with a huge ice pack and strict instructions to let her know if the bruise feels concerning. “I need to ice my fucking finger.”
“Oh, yeah.” He taps out a message on his phone and slides it into his pocket. “Forgot about that. Want me to see if any girls are interested in coming up after? A couple chicks at the game were checking you out.”
“I’m still with Mia, you know.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers against his arm. “Did I miss something? You dating now?”
“No.” I grab the ice pack and set it over my finger. It’s swollen and tender to the touch, but the bruising isn’t too bad. “We’re just hanging out.”
“Who’s to say she’s not out right now, picking up someone else?”
“She’s not.” I probably say it too quickly, but I can’t tamp down the rush of possessiveness that pours through my veins at the mere thought of her hooking up with someone else. We haven’t spoken about it explicitly, but I know that we’re exclusive again. We might not be dating, but we’re not going to anyone else for sex, either of us.
Rafael snorts. “Okay, man. Do what you want, I guess.”
I give him a pointed look. “What I want is to call her, but I need to be alone for that.”
He puts his hands up placatingly as he backs away. “Whatever. Enjoy. Text if you end up wanting to join us.”
When the door shuts behind him, I flop against the bed. One good thing about most of the guys going out: Hunter, who is bunking with me on this trip, is going too, so I have privacy to call Mia.
I close my eyes, breathing in the bleach smell of the hotel sheets. There was a time when every away trip was exciting. The high school tournaments were fun, and the travel during the playoffs my first year at McKee was a party. Lately, though? It’s more of a hassle than anything. I’d rather be at home with Mia than humping all my gear to fucking SUNY Albany. I’m already dreading the grind of the minors, which will involve way more long bus trips and second-rate hotels. The design of the baseball season at any level means that most of your life will be long-distance.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. My finger protests as the ice pack plops onto my chest.
I shouldn’t call Mia.
This trip is forcing there to be a bit of distance between us, and that’s not a bad thing, especially after the nightmare I had the other night. Those first few seconds after I woke up, I thought I was still dreaming. She looked like an angel in the moonlight, her hair spilling over her bare shoulders, delicate perfection in every feature on her face. But it wasn’t a dream. She was there and she wanted to help. Maybe it was because of the quiet of the night, which always makes me feel alone—although less alone with her there—or the fact I was so shaken by the images my mind couldn’t stop spitting out, but I spilled my guts to her in a way I never have with another person.
Ever since we started hooking up again, I’ve tried to hold back just enough to prevent a slide into feelings I don’t want to have to shut down later, but in that moment? I would have given her anything in the world. I would have gotten on my knees and begged for her love. I’ve pretended that what we have is enough, but it isn’t. It’s never been casual for me, not for a moment.
