Page 3

2

NAVY

This is the longest ride of my entire life.

I’m not being dramatic in the slightest. Isn’t there supposed to be elevator music playing in an elevator? All I hear is Jared’s heavy breathing next to me, and it’s making my hands clammy.

I lathered myself in my favorite eucalyptus lotion, hoping it would calm my nerves. It seems to only be doing the opposite—more like melting off my body. I can feel the anxiety seeping from Jared’s tall frame next to mine.

What am I doing? Being here suddenly feels so weird.

I don’t remember dating ever feeling this awkward. Awkwardness has never been something I’ve felt. I’m as extroverted as it gets.

What stranger? I don’t see one. Everyone is a friend to me.

That’s partially why my parents are always so concerned for my well-being. I’m too trusting, and my life is chaotic. I lack structure and discipline.

I’m a fuck it and wing it kind of gal, and there’s no changing it. That’s most likely why I agreed to go on this date with Jared.

Jared, who, up until two days ago, I had no idea had feelings for me. Talk about a shocker. He’s never given me any clue about seeing me as more than a friend. Not that I’ve been single for very long; it’s only been five months. But I’ve worked with Jared for much longer.

We’ve been working together since we started at ATL Sports two years ago when we were both hired as interns. It took some time, but as of this season, I officially landed my role as the Strikers’ sideline reporter. Jared, on the other hand, is the Strikers’ pre-game broadcaster. I never imagined myself working in sports; my passion has always been the fashion industry. Growing up with my brother, who traveled for games, baseball was a huge part of my childhood. I would bring my worn sketchbook to and from his games, designing everything imaginable. Despite that, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity before me. My thinking in giving it a shot was: worst case, it doesn’t work out.

Thankfully, it did. Reporting isn’t a dream , but it’s something I’m good at and I’ve worked hard for.

Being a woman in this industry means fighting for your life to get where you want to be. I deserve to be here, and I’ve busted my ass for it.

Thankfully, I have yet to encounter any gender discrimination. My work has been able to speak for itself. It helps that my older brother, Callaway, is the starting pitcher for the Strikers, which gave me some pull when I applied for this position. I’ve met some of my best friends at Makers Park. Having the opportunity to work front and center with the players is a surreal experience—witnessing their love for the game from their point of view.

I will say it’s been a hot minute since I dated. But lately, I’m finding myself ready to give it a shot. I don’t have much experience, but I never imagined it would be this much of a struggle. Maybe going out with your roommate and coworker isn’t the best way to jump back into the dating pool.

I’m almost twenty-nine, and spent the last fourteen years with the same person. Luke and I were high school sweethearts and completely wrong for each other. It only took me half my life to figure that part out. I’m also finding that I don’t know what dating looks like. I’ve been out of the mix for too long.

Which led me here—on a date with my work friend, Jared.

I’m now seeing this for what it is—a safe attempt at dating. Jared is safe. We know each other and spend every day around each other. But that doesn’t make us compatible romantically.

Incompatible is a mild term to describe this date.

This will pose a bit of a problem, seeing as I’m currently crashing at his place. Glorious.

I love getting myself into these uncomfortable situations.

I need to navigate this well enough to salvage the friendship we have.

Exiting the elevator, Jared hurries in front of me to unlock his apartment door. Not that I was enjoying this date, but he full-on left me by the elevator doors, a good thirty feet behind from him.

The man ran.

I’m chuckling under my breath before I can process what’s happening. I silently head to where he’s shuffling through his keys to find the one that fits.

You live here, Jared. Shouldn’t you know which key it is?

Bless his heart. He’s nervous. God, I hope he doesn’t expect anything to happen tonight. No. Nada. It’s never going to happen.

Jared speaks up, “There, I got it.”

“Perfect.” I stand back as he holds the door open for me to enter and secures the lock behind us. “Thank you for taking me out tonight. I had fun.”

“I did, too, Navy. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

I barely reach the apartment threshold and turn around to respond before his wet lips are on mine. What in the…

I don’t think—I react at the first touch of the unfamiliar. Jared’s hands are secured at my cheeks, while my instincts lead me to find his chest as I push him off, my shock painted clearly across my face.

I hastily wipe the back of my hand across my lips, attempting to get rid of his slobbery kiss. “Jared, what the hell was that?”

My eyes are lit with fire, searching for his. He’s standing stock-still, his eyes still closed, and his lips in a puckered position.

“Jared.” My voice gets louder.

I’m not sure how I feel right now. I’m pissed he kissed me without giving me any signs or a chance to tell him to fuck off. That’s really what I’d like to say right now, but deep down, I know Jared, and he’s never done anything to hurt me intentionally. After all, we’ve always been friends.

“Uh, uh. I kissed you.” No shit, Sherlock.

“Yeah, you did. But why? That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

He’s embarrassed, and he should be. There was no point tonight where I gave him any reason to expect more or that I was into him as more than a friend. I feel like I gave that away the second he told me about his favorite meals his mother cooks.

Yes, this was a date, but it felt nothing like one. I’m seeing now that I must have been the only one to catch that vibe.

“We had a great night, Navy. I wanted to kiss you.”

He’s innocent; I can see that. It’s been so long since I’ve had to do this.

“Jared, typically, the moment to do that would be when the person you’re kissing can see it coming. You basically cornered me and attacked my mouth.”

It’s a little funny when I think about it. I hope he can hear the sincerity in my voice.

His timid eyes concentrate on the tiled floor beneath us. “I blindsided you, didn’t I?”

My light giggle causes his eyes to dart up. “Yeah…you kind of did.”

He exhales slowly in disbelief. “I like you and I won’t hide that. But I’m starting to see it might be one-sided, huh?”

I nod.

“Right. Well, that’s okay.” He can’t hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry for kissing you. It won’t happen again.”

Social cues are not my forte. I hate seeing people upset, and even more so, being the one who caused it. Whereas I should probably be taking this moment to give us space, as I originally planned, I’m somehow now hugging him.

I have a perpetual need to care for everyone around me. Jared is my friend, and I hate that I hurt him, but I had to be honest. One date is enough to gauge whether we can move beyond friendship.

His entire frame coils like a springboard, paralyzing him with tension at the first feel of my touch.

Read the room, Navy.

The guy didn’t need a hug—he needed you to get lost.

Finally, deciding to examine his body language, I pull myself back and wrap my hands around his arms as I do my best to ensure he sees I’m genuine. “Friends? I know that’s very generalized, but I’d still like to be your friend if you’ll have me.”

I send him a small smile, one we share constantly at work, but it feels much different now. I’m waiting for a nod, verbal agreement, anything to give me a sign that we will be okay, and I get to keep my friend.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen.

Jared takes a big step back. “I’m not sure if I can do that, Navy. I need a little bit of time. This wasn’t a one-time thing for me. I’ve liked you for years, two to be exact. I need to figure out how that looks now. You understand that, right?”

My stomach sinks. I feel sick over the idea of hurting him to this extent. He’s right. Jared has harbored these feelings for me for so long, and I’m now finding out how deep they went.

I, however, don’t reciprocate those feelings.

I need to give him space.

“Of course. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair. I’ll be in my room if you need me or want to talk.” I shuffle my purse over my shoulder and pace the apartment as if I don’t know my way around it.

Jared’s voice, echoing from the kitchen, stops me. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

I wasn’t expecting that.

He doesn’t elaborate. Why does it hurt? Why does it constantly feel like I’m a burden to everyone around me?

I refuse to impose where I’m not wanted.

Without turning around to face him, I nod my head and quietly walk in the direction of my room. It’s time to pack my things and leave.

But where can I go?