Page 14

Danielle

T hankfully, the car is back and in great shape, but Honey decided she and Edna need to go watch tonight’s improv show at the Community College. Alice offered to give me a ride after work in order to free up the Honda for their latest adventure. She pulls over on a secluded road along the way so I can change into leggings and the same cropped fuzzy sweater I wore to Virginia Tech. Mike hasn’t seen this outfit yet, and Alice is right about the way it accentuates all of my curves. I use her rearview mirror to apply mascara and a new coat of lip gloss.

“You look hot. Whoever picked out that outfit definitely knew what they were doing.” She smiles, then pulls a travel-sized body mist out of her purse. “Trust me. You need this, too. You just got off a shift at a seafood restaurant.”

“True.” I let her spritz me with the scent of raspberry blossom.

Fifteen minutes later, I knock on the door of Mike’s apartment and hear footsteps on the other side. Jordan opens the door with a friendly smile and gestures for me to come inside. I’m a few minutes early, but I wanted to get here as soon as I could. A hint of heat creeps into my cheeks as I think about Mike’s jokes from this morning. He may have been kidding, but some of the things he said sounded like a lot of fun. That might also be a big part of the reason I hurried over here as soon as my shift ended.

“Hi.” Jordan greets me, then calls to Mike. “Our favorite crab tutor is here, Roomie. You better hide all of those My Little Pony magazines, man. She’s going to think you’re into some kinky shit.”

He winks so I know he is teasing, and I smile back at Jordan, then turn and direct my own yell down the hall toward Mike. “Oh, please don’t hide anything. I went through a serious Twilight Sparkle phase myself.”

Jordan chuckles. “Dude honestly does have a bunch of My Little Pony paraphernalia back there. Fair warning. No judgment if that’s your thing, but in this case, it is not usually in his room. He’s been trying to find a gift for his sister’s birthday. I can’t remember which sister, but he said something about putting together a collection of retro toys from their childhood to send her.”

“Seriously? That’s really sweet.”

“I guess. I mean, it would be cool if someone thought about giving me some Ninja Turtles once in a while.” He pretends to pout.

“Exactly.” I laugh and nudge him in his good arm. His other elbow is wrapped with some kind of beige bandage. “How is your arm?”

“Eh. Not the best, but it will heal eventually. Thanks for asking.”

I make a mental note to look for a little Ninja Turtle for Jordan the next time I’m at Major Dollar as a get-well gift for him.

It doesn’t take long for Mike to join us. His hair is damp. He must have been in the shower recently. I swallow and try to clear that image from my head before he can catch me in the middle of some very dirty thoughts about his freshly-cleaned body. Mike smiles and quickens his pace until he is standing directly in front of me.

“You’re early. Not that I’m complaining.” He bends down and kisses me in front of Jordan and I can feel my cheeks turning even more pink than they already were. It’s not the first time he’s kissed me, but it is the first time anyone else was watching, and we still haven’t talked about whatever is going on between us. I didn’t expect him to be so open about staking a claim to me in front of his roommate, but I like that he has no problem being affectionate.

“Hi,” I say after he pulls away.

“Hi back.”

“Well, as much fun as it would be to sit here and look at old, used rainbow unicorn toys while the two of you suck each other’s faces, I’m going to pass. I’m headed out to poker night with a few of the guys. Rodriguez just texted that he’s waiting for me outside. I might crash at his place tonight, so you two can have some privacy,” Jordan tells us.

“Have fun. I’m sure we will find a way to entertain ourselves without you.” Mike is talking to Jordan, but his eyes never leave mine. My stomach does a mini somersault. Those eyes seem to be making a lot of promises, and I am here for all of them.

“I doubt I’ll be having quite as much fun as you will,” Jordan says right before he grabs his keys from a hook next to the door. Then Mike’s roommate is gone and we are alone in his apartment for the second time.

I stand there for a moment, awkwardly staring at Mike and waiting for him to make the first move. He seems content to just stand in his kitchen and trace my curves with his eyes. Sweater and leggings for the win.

Finally, he says, “Oh, I almost forgot. I believe I promised you a chai latte. Sorry, it’s probably cold by now.” He picks up a Brew-Ha-Ha to-go cup I hadn’t noticed on the counter and hands it to me. It’s still warm, but just barely.

“Better latte than never.” I raise cup and toast the air before taking a sip and wince at my own bad joke, but he laughs because Mike has never met a pun he didn’t appreciate. “Thank you. That was thoughtful,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome. Is the car doing okay?”

“Yeah. Honda Sykes is fine. Back to her old self.” He chuckles, and I love that I knew it would make him laugh again when he heard I nicknamed the car after the actress Wanda Sykes.

“Good. How was work?”

“Um, work was fine.” I’ve been in and out of the kitchen all afternoon. I probably still smell like sweat and seafood under Alice’s body mist, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Cool. Can I show you something?” Mike asks. When I nod he takes my hand and leads me down the short hallway and into his bedroom. Jordan wasn’t kidding. I’m glad he warned me because otherwise the gigantic pile of Barbies and ponies thrown all over his bed might have taken me by surprise.

“Oh my god, is that a Polly Pocket?” I pick the toy up from its resting spot on top of the grey-striped comforter and sit down on the bed. “I loved these.”

I run one finger over it gently, remembering how precious the small plastic bin of toys I had in our camper was to me. We didn’t have much space for extras, but I had a vintage set that Mom had purchased at the thrift store, from back when Polly’s whole house really was small enough to fit in your pocket.

“Yeah. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to get all of these things into this box to send to my youngest sister, Maddy.” He motions to a shoebox sitting on the dresser. “Like, should I bubble wrap them all together or just put some tissues in there and call it good?”

“It might be fun to giftwrap each one individually, so when Maddy opens the box it’s like you sent her twenty gifts instead of one.”

“That’s a great idea. I can wrap them in the comic section of the newspaper like our mom used to do. Wait, do they still put comics in newspapers? I’m not sure I’ve ever bought a newspaper before.”

I hope my stupid cheeks aren’t turning as red as they feel when he smiles at me. I listen while Mike tells me a little more about his sisters. I know there are three of them, and they are still in Idaho with his parents, but he shares more about how Michelle is planning to go to law school, and Mandy is really involved in community theater. We chat for a bit longer about our families before Mike clears his throat and changes the subject.

“So, how’s Jake doing?” He is trying to be casual, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. Worry, maybe? Is he jealous? I hope not.

Weirdly, though, I don’t get the impression Mike is a jealous guy. I guess I assumed that because he plays sports for a living he would be more competitive, but he hasn’t shown me that side of himself. He seems to want to like Jake, which is really endearing because, even if he’s been making some dumb mistakes lately, Jake is always going to be important to me.

“I think he’s fine. We haven’t talked since you took him home,” I admit.

Mike nods and makes a small humming sound. Then he makes one of the My Little Ponies dance for me. He is trying to lighten the mood, but I think we do need to have this talk if we are going to continue hanging out so much.

“Would it bother you if I did talk to him?”

“I’m not the kind of guy who tells my girlfriend who she can or can’t talk to, but from what I saw yesterday it doesn’t seem like he’s in a very good place right now. Just be careful. Please. I know what it’s like to be having a rough time, and it can be easy to hurt the people you care about the most.”

“Excuse me? Your girlfriend?”

We are definitely finished talking about Jake now.

“You caught that, huh?” He looks sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair. “Is that okay?”

“Mike Miller, are you asking me to go steady?” I tease, hopping off the bed to close the space between us. He sets the toy down and turns to face me with a bashful shrug. “You like me,” I pretend to taunt like a kid on the playground.

“I do,” he admits while I throw my arms around his neck.

“Well, that’s good, because I like you, too. A lot.” I plant a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

“Is that a yes on the girlfriend thing?” He chuckles.

“Definitely.” There’s a giddy smile plastered on my face, but I manage to keep my cool and hold in the squeal that wants to escape.

“Good. Then I think it’s finally time we had that make-out session you mentioned, but we can skip the truck. I think you should stay right here and get used to kissing your boyfriend.”

“I could get used to the sound of that.”

There are flames dancing behind his eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. My fingers itch with the need to feel his hair, and I want to jump up and let him catch me while I kiss his neck. It takes a good bit of effort to keep my feet on the ground. It sounds silly, but I’m not used to having these kinds of intense thoughts about the guys I date. Here I am alone with this slender, six-foot-three wall of muscle, and he’s officially my boyfriend. This is the kind of occasion that needs to be sealed with a kiss. Or several.

So, that’s exactly what we do, leaning against his closet door. I breathe in the soft cotton of his tee shirt. It smells spicy and clean, just like him. I’m all tingly when he pulls back.

His face twists in an uncomfortable way. Something’s wrong.

“What is it?” I ask.

“We need to have a conversation before we take this any further. I want to be honest with you, but I’m afraid it’s not going to be easy for you to hear.” Mike rubs the palm of his hand along the scruff on his jaw and my stomach drops. I hope he’s not changing his mind because of what happened with Jake.

“What did I do?” Is my breath horrendous? Maybe I’m a really bad kisser and have never known.

“Absolutely nothing.”

Tentatively, I ask, “I thought things were going well?”

“They are,” he agrees. “Really well. I like you so much.” Mike assures me with a kiss on the forehead. The tension in my shoulders eases a bit.

“I like you, too.” It’s so true that it almost hurts to say. “But I thought we already established that.”

This is not the time to tell him that I already know it’s more for me. For the first time, the guy in my imaginary future is starting to have a face, and that face looks an awful lot like the baseball player in front of me.

Mike’s voice is softer, careful. He glides a finger down my arm as he starts to speak. “That’s why I have something important to tell you. I told Jake a little bit about myself today, and there was something specific we discussed. I know you’re close, and he will probably think he needs to tell you. I just want to make sure you hear this from me first.”

He leads me to the bed and waits for me to take a seat before leaning himself on the edge of the dresser so he can face me. This really must be serious.

“Are you being traded? Are you leaving?” I voice my fear, although he wouldn’t really have any reason to talk to Jake about that. “Is everything okay? Oh god, are you in some kind of trouble?”

I can hear the panic rising in my voice. I realize we haven’t known each other very long. Maybe this is going to be something much worse.

He shakes his head.

Mike moves forward and squats down in front of me so we are eye-to-eye, then he reaches through the space between us to put a hand on my knee. He looks down at his hand while his thumb draws small circles on my leggings. He’s hardly touching me, but the tiny movement is comforting and the warmth of his touch burns straight through the fabric to heat my skin.

“I’m really screwing this up.” Mike takes a deep breath before launching into his explanation. “It was a long time ago, and I don’t talk about it much. There aren’t many people here who know because I wanted a fresh start in North Bay. Jordan is the only one on the team I’ve told. But things feel like they could be getting serious with us and I need to share this with you.”

He swallows. “I haven’t had to have this conversation this quickly with anyone I was dating before, and I wasn’t really prepared to have it tonight. I’m not going to say everything right the first time. Let me get it all out first, okay? Then you can ask me your questions.”

I bite the inside of my cheeks to stay quiet and nod for him to continue. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he speaks. What could be so bad that he is this afraid to tell me?

“You need to know I’m a drug addict.” The words rush out of him in a single breath.

I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.

“What?” I blink.

Right. I promised to be quiet. It’s just that his confession makes no sense. I haven’t seen a single red flag from Mike. My chest is getting tighter, but I try to focus on the story he is telling and reserve judgment. I pick up Polly Pocket and run my fingers over her dress while I listen.

“My sophomore year of college, I busted my shoulder while I was playing pick-up basketball with some guys from the gym. Thankfully, it was my left side, so not my throwing arm. Since it was in the off-season, it didn’t mess with baseball too badly. But I did need to have a minor surgery. Afterward, the doctor prescribed some pills to help me deal with the pain. Shoulder injuries are a real bitch, it can hurt for months afterward.”

I lean in to show him I’m listening, but he asked me to let him speak, so I am going to try to sit here and take it all in before I respond.

“I was only supposed to take the meds for a few weeks and then taper off, but I couldn’t do it. When my prescription ran out, I felt like I needed more. It was a craving so intense I don’t really know how to describe it to you.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “It wasn’t like getting a craving for tacos or chocolate. It was more like once they were gone, I thought I was going to die if I didn’t get them back. The closest feeling I know is when you are swimming and you stay underwater for too long. You know how your body can start panicking?” I nod to encourage him to keep going, although I can’t say I’ve had that exact feeling before.

Mike’s eyes are closed while he speaks.

“My grandmother was in hospice at a nursing facility not far from campus. I started visiting more often and stealing her medication. That’s the biggest regret of my life. I sold some of her pills at school to get the money to buy stronger ones. When my dad found out I was turning into a junkie who was willing to hurt his mom while she was dying, he was so angry and disappointed that he cut me off completely. He stopped paying my tuition and left me to figure out my shit on my own. We haven’t really spoken much since. My mom and sisters never gave up on me, though. Michelle knew what was going on, but my younger sisters were so little back then, they couldn’t understand why I was being mean to them. I hate that I put them through that. And then there was the accident.”

“A car accident?”

He nods and pinches the bridge of his nose. That must be why he is so overprotective about me traveling in the dark. Now it’s my turn to reach out to him. This is all so hard for him to talk about, I can’t imagine how much it hurt to live through. It’s breaking my heart just watching him tell the story.

“I don’t think I need to hear anything else.” I take his hand softly and pull it away from his face so I can look into his eyes. I only see sincerity in them. I have never seen him act strangely or even touch the alcohol at the crab feast or the gala. I have definitely never seen him take any pills. “It doesn’t seem like you are using right now,” I tell him.

“I’m not. My mom and my coach worked together and got me into a rehab program in Boise. Thankfully, I was able to turn it around and my coach really stepped up for me. I guess he was also like my sponsor. He had struggled with addiction, too, and it cost him his marriage. He never gave up on me. The program didn’t take the first time. Or the second, but after the third time in treatment, I really did get clean. I missed a lot of time on the field to attend those programs, which might have hurt my chances at the majors, but I’ve been sober for three years.”

I smile, the air lightening a bit. “Mike, that’s amazing. I get that it was a rocky start, and I appreciate you sharing, but everyone makes stupid decisions when they are young. Look at everything you have accomplished since then. You finished college, where you played a Division One sport, and you are playing professional baseball now. It sounds like the rough patch is behind you.”

He lets out a long breath. “Thank you. I did work really damn hard for all of that. I’m not afraid to work for what I want.” His eyes burn right into me. I know he’s talking about us now. “But if we are going to be together, you need to know this is always going to be a big part of who I am. You need to think about if that’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Of course not,” I tell him immediately. Despite my best intentions to reserve judgment, I can feel more questions forming in the pit of my stomach. Intrusive ones that I don’t know if I have the right to ask. So, I stick with the obvious.

“This is why you took Jake home with you? Because you were an addict and you thought he needed the same kind of help?”

“Not were. Am. Present tense. I am and will always be an addict. It’s still something I struggle with every day. Yes, it’s why I brought Jake here. I’m not sure how much good it really did, though. We aren’t going to be planning a buddy camping trip anytime soon. But when I saw him like that I couldn’t let him go home to his dad. It’s just…I know how it feels to self-destruct and ruin everything.”

There’s a heaviness in his tone and I want to take it away, so I do the only thing I can think of: try to kiss it and make it better. He leans into me and kisses me back, hard, like he needs me more than air. It’s heady and intoxicating, but also terrifying. Not because of anything he is doing, but because of my own growing need for him. Things with Mike are getting so intense, so quickly.

After a few minutes of mind-bending, life-altering kissing, Mike lowers his head and brushes his nose against my neck, sending shivers through me. There are goosebumps on my arm now, as I raise it to run my fingers through his hair. His mouth finds mine again, and this time his kiss is light and sweet at first, but soon I find myself pulling him toward me and we press further into each other. He’s putting all of himself into this kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that can only happen when people have no secrets between them, and the intensity is overwhelming. I have no control over the whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away again to suck on my neck. His hands are on my hips, toying with my waistband, and he brings his forehead to mine so he can look into my eyes. Our chests are both heaving. I want him. His eyes and his hands are begging for permission to take this further.

“You okay?”

I nod and bite my swollen lower lip.

“This okay?” He looks down toward his hand.

“Yes.”

Please. I want him. Now. My body is begging, too, and I push my hips forward, urging him on. He slips his hand under the waistband, down the front of my pants, and strokes the top of my thigh. This is torture in the best possible way. Mike gently plays with the elastic on my panties, sliding his fingers over the fabric, then cupping his hand so that the heel of his palm is pressing into my most sensitive spot. I have no control of the way my hips are grinding into his hand.

“Talk to me, tell me what you want.” His voice is low, a gravelly whisper next to my ear.

“Just…more…please.” I can’t even think. I don’t know how he expects me to give directions.

“Like this?” He slides one finger inside my panties and touches me with long, slow strokes. I’m panting.

“You’re so ready for me.” There’s a sense of awe in his voice.

Between everything he has done for me this week and the vulnerability of what he shared tonight, I’m gone for him. As his fingers continue their steady rhythm, my vision narrows and my body contracts and pulses around him. He kisses me through my orgasm. When he pulls his finger away I want to protest and ask for more, but he brings it up to his mouth. Oh God, he’s going to su…

That’s blood.

I come crashing down from the high I was riding a moment ago. Did he hurt himself somehow? No. It must be coming from me. Oh, dear God, it has been about a month, hasn’t it? Mike’s only noticeable reaction is that his brow furrows when he realizes at the same time I do that the liquid on his finger is dark red. I can feel my cheeks heat and I know my face must be a similar shade of crimson. I shake my head and pull away, not wanting to believe what I am seeing. He takes a step back.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks, confused but not judging.

“No,” I squeak. That’s all I can manage in terms of an explanation. How exactly do you say, “Thanks for baring your soul and sharing your deepest secret as well as providing me with a life-altering orgasm. In return, how about I cover you in my menstrual blood?”

Understanding dawns on him.

It’s official. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever going to happen to me. It’s worse than that time in seventh grade when I sat on a candy bar wrapper and walked around with brown smears on the back of my shorts for half the day.

I got my period all over his unsuspecting hand in the middle of our first intimate moment as a couple. I’m never going to live this down. The only option now is to be a mature adult about this. So, obviously, I turn and run down the hall and lock myself in the bathroom. Then the tears come. This whole evening has been full of emotional turbulence, and all of it hits me at once.

“Danielle.” His knock is soft and his voice is kind.

“Sorry, there’s no one here by that name,” I call out, sitting on the toilet and burying my face in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. I can’t catch my breath. I think I might be hyperventilating.

“Look under the sink,” he says. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be in my room when you’re ready.” I hear his footsteps carry him away.

Look under the sink? Reluctantly, I wipe my eyes and bend to open the cabinet door. Sure enough, there’s a small plastic bucket containing some pads, tampons, and even a few brand-new pairs of women’s underwear, with the tags still attached. Wait, is that a Diva cup still in the packaging?

I take a new pair of underwear and a tampon, clean myself up, and wrap the soiled panties in toilet paper before tossing them in the bathroom trashcan. The new ones are a little big for me, but given the circumstances, they’ll do. After three deep breaths, I dig my phone out of the pocket of the leggings I’m wearing and text Alice.

Me: S.O.S. Hypothetically, what would you do if you were going to third base with your boyfriend for the first time, but during the act you accidentally got menstrual blood all over him?

Alice: Yikes. But obviously, the answer is you text your best friend and ask her to bring you some new clothes and a ride home. I can be there in fifteen minutes with supplies. Also? Boyfriend??? It’s official? That was quick. Told you that outfit is fire.

Me: Actually, he already had supplies. And yes, it’s official. He asked me before the floodgates to the Red Sea opened.

I snap a photo of the little period bucket under the sink and send it to her.

Alice: Oh, I see. So, we love him. You have what you need. He understands periods. He admitted his feelings. This does not seem like a problem. I assume he knows how to wash his…I’m going to say hands and hope it wasn’t his mouth.

Why can’t she freak out with me like I need her to, just this once? She always has to be so level-headed and logical.

Me: Yes, it was his hand. But not a problem? Only the single most embarrassing moment of my life. What if he’s pissed? We haven’t talked about it. I ran and hid in the bathroom.

Alice: If he’s pissed, he’s a jerk. But that doesn’t seem likely. It’s not like you did it on purpose. Babe, bodies do all sorts of embarrassing stuff. Remember when I accidentally drank cow’s milk in my latte and we had to pull over for three emergency potty breaks in the grass on the side of the road?

Me: That was different.

Alice: It wasn’t. Besides, he’s a professional athlete. Probably not the first time he’s gotten a little bit of blood on him. I don’t think this is going to scare him off.

Is she right? Maybe I am overreacting. The evidence is on her side. My shame spiral, on the other hand, is not going to let up anytime soon. Unfortunately, I can’t stay locked in this bathroom forever, even if it is tempting.

There is only a small stain on the inside of my leggings. I’ll probably be able to get it out if I wash them at home. After a few more shaky breaths, I force myself to open the bathroom door and walk down the hall, back to his bedroom. He’s standing at the dresser, occupying himself by putting away some laundry.

“So, um, the bathroom’s free if you want to, you know, get cleaned up.” I wince.

“Already took care of it.” He shrugs. Right. The kitchen. There is another sink in the apartment. He also probably wouldn’t be smearing my blood on his clean laundry, which I seem to have just implied. His voice sounds normal, unbothered. My stomach is still gurgling from nerves. I wonder if he can hear it. This might turn into an Alice’s latte situation after all. As if it can get any worse. Am I sick? I feel sick. I’m dying. Literally dying. The answer is yes, you can die of embarrassment, in case anyone was wondering.

“I’m so sorry. This is humiliating.” I can’t look at him, so I stare at the carpet.

He turns walks to me, cupping my face with both of his hands and raising my head to look into his eyes, but I can’t do that yet, so I squeeze my own eyes shut while he talks.

“Are you kidding? Do you know how ashamed I felt to share all that stuff with you earlier? This tiny blip? It’s fine. We are fine. You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he tries to assure me.

Not on purpose, maybe, but my body betrayed me. He bends down and kisses the tip of my nose. He’s being really sweet, actually.

“You good? Did you find what you needed in there? I wish I could say I’m thoughtful enough to stock up for occasions such as this, but the truth is Michelle got her period the last time she visited. She sent me out to buy her supplies, and I didn’t know what to get, so I just bought all the stuff the store had on the shelf.” He takes my hand and leads me back to the bed, which has been cleared of toys. I sit, fidgeting with my hands while he stands in front of me. Alice was right, he doesn’t seem weirded out at all, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable yet. I still can’t quite bring myself to look at him.

“I need to wash my pants,” I blurt and sneak a quick glance up at him.

He chuckles and nods. “Okay. Do you want to borrow some sweatpants? I’m sure they’d look better on you anyway.”

Although I doubt that anyone could look better than he does in gray sweatpants, the hint of a smile plays with the corners of my mouth. I’m not ready to let it out.

“Thanks for being nice about it.” I swallow and whisper at the ground. He’s never been anything but sweet to me, but after his confession, now I feel like I am walking on eggshells not wanting to upset him.

He stills.

“How did you expect me to react?”

“I don’t know. Grossed out? Disappointed? I thought maybe you would make fun of me for it or get angry. Just generally act like someone who doesn’t appreciate getting people’s blood on them, not that anyone could blame you. Or a guy who thought he was going to get some action, but then…didn’t.” And might need something to take the edge off. I don’t tell him that last part. It feels unfair to jump to that conclusion, but I mean, I feel like I could use something to take the edge off after what just happened, so why wouldn’t he? If he does, are we supposed to talk about it? Are we not? I don’t know the protocol for being an addict’s girlfriend.

“Wow. Okay. Well, I don’t know who that guy you’re talking about is, but he sounds like a dick, and that’s not me.” He sits down next to me on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to sink a bit under his weight. “Come here.” He pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around my waist. I rest my head on his shoulder, and we sit still until I’m ready to talk.

I sniff and finally look at him. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m concerned that you assumed I would be, but no, I’m not. At all.” Mike is being so gentle. But can I trust this? He just told me he’s a drug addict. Present tense. What if I do something that makes him snap? How will I ever be able to know what might trigger him?

“Okay.” I hate the doubts that are creeping in now that he’s shared his deepest secret with me. I want to believe him. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But it’s probably best if I go.” There is no way the mood from earlier is coming back any time soon. I am mortified about the way things ended tonight. This is not the kind of thing I get over easily, but there is more to it than that. I also need to think about what his past means for us moving forward.

“You sure? I’m not going to push you to stay if you’re uncomfortable, but please don’t feel like you have to leave just because of this.”

Sighing, I tell him, “I think I’m ready to call it a night. But thank you. If that had to happen, I guess I’m glad it was with you.”

He breathes a small laugh through his nose and pats my knee. “That’s not much, but I’ll take it. I had a lot of fun before that little interruption.”

“Me, too.” I really did. “But let’s never talk about this again.”

“Talk about what?” He winks. “Do you want to grab your stuff? I’ll drive you home.”

I gather my things and follow him to his truck, where he opens my door and puts his hand on the small of my back as I climb inside. He must not be too disgusted if he’s still touching me.

We drive in silence for a few minutes before Mike speaks.

“When I was in the third grade I threw up in the middle of a spelling test. Not that I had any control over it, but at the time it was really embarrassing. All the kids started yelling about how gross it was, and the teacher had to call the janitor down to clean it up. Remember that orange-smelling sawdust stuff they would sprinkle over it?”

I wrinkle my nose. As adorable as it is that he’s telling me this story to try to make me feel better, it’s still gross. “Yeah, I can still smell it. I used to live in fear of being the one to puke in class. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugs. “I got over it pretty quickly.”

“How?” I don’t think I would have. I kind of want to cry right now for poor little Mike who wasn’t feeling well and had to deal with his classmates teasing him on top of it. And I definitely want to cry for Danielle of fifteen minutes ago.

He reaches over the center console and squeezes my leg. “Eventually I realized those things happen to everyone. Just part of life. Can I tell you a secret?”

Another one? Intrigued, I nod. He’s making a real effort to let down his guard tonight, and I appreciate it. I feel like a coward, but after what just happened, I’m still not ready to do the same for him.

“When I screw up during a game, sometimes I go home and watch videos of other players making epic mistakes. I probably shouldn’t be laughing at them. Bad karma or whatever. But it helps to know I’m not the only one. There are guys in the majors who still trip over their own feet and faceplant on occasion.”

I’m glad he doesn’t seem to need me to participate in the conversation. I’m starting to feel better, but I don’t want to talk about The Incident from tonight yet. I think he can sense me retreating into my shell, because he continues. “That’s why there are so many online forums for people to share their own embarrassing moments. People bond over them. They’re humanizing.”

“That’s true, I guess. I used to read the ones in the back of teen magazines, even though I’m sure at least half of them were made up by the editors.” There. I can do this. I’m still talking to him and I survived my humiliation.

“Exactly,” he nods. “I’m sure we are not the first couple this has happened to.” Okay. He just called us a couple. Now I’m all tingly. “I know you’re embarrassed, but you don’t need to be. This moment stays between us.”

“And Alice,” I clarify. “I already told her.”

He laughs. “I thought we were never supposed to talk about it. But, sure. Between us and Alice. And hey.” He puts his hand on my knee again. “If you need to talk to her about anything I told you tonight, it’s okay. I understand.”

I’ve only officially been Mike Miller’s girlfriend for a little over an hour, but so far dating a professional athlete with a secret past has been a heck of a ride. I hope I have it in me to hang on.