Page 24 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

“I did try the whole therapy thing, but it didn’t work out. So don’t feel discouraged if things don’t pan out. Like I said, I don’t get in the water much, so you won’t ever have to worry about me drowning or something,” he quietly says.

“My expectations are hellishly low. So…” Was that too dry? Dammit, Josephine, get your shit ? —

He chuckles, face brightening and the tension in his body rolling off. “Are you doing that reverse psychology thing on me?”

As discreetly as I can, I begin to turn and he follows. I’m not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but he follows my lead.

“Uh…if that’s what you want to call my horrible lack of sense of humor, sure.”

That made no sense and I was definitely not trying to be funny, but Daniel laughs.

He tips his head back, eyes closed for a mere second before they’re on me again.

But all my brain seems to register is how deep and hearty his laugh sounds.

I’m momentarily distracted by the glint of his gold chain from the sun.

I want to ask the story behind the safety pin, but I withhold.

“Noah has an excellent dry sense of humor, and I happen to excel in reading it.” He grins, still following my lead as we go in a slow circle.

“Noah? Noah Sosa?”

“The one and only.”

“Tell me about Noah.”

“Why? Are you interested?” He lifts a brow, lips pulling into a teasing smile, but his eyes don’t match it.

He’s attractive. Olive-toned skin, a face structure that seems like it was carved by the gods, tall along with all the other guys on the team, but he carries himself differently. I don’t know why but he does.

But am I attracted to him? No. The only guy who seems to have my head and heart in disarray happens to be the guy right in front of me.

“No, I’m not interested in him or anyone.” Because I’m a hot-ass mess and while I don’t outwardly show it, inwardly I’m crumbling into nothing. Guys don’t like messy girls or girls who…are like me.

All to show, nothing to give.

Bryson said that a few times while drunk and sober. I was stupid for staying, but sometimes you get a taste of something you’ve never had and every time it’s fed to you, it makes you want it a little more. It’s not the real thing, but it’s enough to get you hooked.

I was hooked on what I couldn’t have and he gave me enough; it made me stay. It made me stupid. It made me hate myself.

All to show, nothing to give.

A moment of silence stretches between us. It unnerves me because he’s thinking something, I just don’t know what.

“He’s my roommate and will make you think he hates living with me and the guys, but I know he secretly loves it.

Don’t tell him I said that.” He winks at me.

“He’s our catcher, six three, doesn’t smile too much, but he likes to fuck around.

Has a nice face—also don’t tell him I said that.

I’ll deny it. Fun fact, he’s Coach’s foster-ish son.

He didn’t foster or adopt him, but he sort of raised him.

So, Coach has a soft spot for him, although he doesn’t show it. ”

Relaxed and playful like he always is. Good.

“You and the guys? How many of you live together?”

“Five of us. Noah, Angel, Kai, Gray, and me,” he replies. “Gray wasn’t supposed to move in with us but there was a mix-up. He’s a pompous, obnoxious pain in the ass, but he’s not that bad.”

“So, which is it—pompous, obnoxious, or not that bad?” We keep moving in circles, still staying in the shallow end but moving around.

His lip twitches. “Honestly, still thinking about it.”

My lips mirror his. “Do you like living with all the guys?”

I wonder what having a roommate must be like. But then again, I shouldn’t because I lived with Mom and we might as well have been roommates because family is far from what we felt.

“Yeah, except on the occasion when I’m tired and want to sleep but can’t because of the parties or someone acting like they’re shooting a porno.”

I understand what he means by that, and it makes me think of what Bryson said: He likes to fuck around a lot. I didn’t have to ask around because I heard the stories. Since he and Amanda broke up, he’s been making up for everything he missed out on when he was in a relationship.

I’ve done an embarrassingly amount of research on him.

“Can’t say I relate.”

“Never had roommates?”

“Unless you want to count my mom. That is until she…” I swallow past the knot that came out of nowhere. “I’ve been living alone since.”

It gets lonely and depressing, but it is what it is.

He stares at me longingly and a streak of empathy flashes in his eyes.

“If you’re looking for a roommate, I’m more than willing to move in,” he jokingly says.

But like he’s really trying to sell himself, he adds, “I’m a great cook.

I’m clean. I’ll keep the noise to a minimum.

And the season will be picking up this coming month, so you’ll hardly see me around. ”

I shouldn’t but I play into it. “I tend to be a little bit of a control freak.”

He hums. “I like people telling me what to do.”

“No, I mean it. I like things a particular way.” That’s not a joke. I need structure and organization. Without my planner, I’m nothing.

“I’m a fast learner and I’m good about following the rules.”

“I don’t cook.”

“You won’t have to.”

I can’t help the way my lips just barely stretch. “Parties aren’t allowed.”

The house is in my name, but it still doesn’t feel like mine.

“Thank God. Maybe now I’ll be able to get some sleep.”

“I take my sleep seriously. So, if you were to…” The knot grows, and my stomach plummets. “Bring someone over, you’d have to keep the noise low.”

“Why would I invite anyone over when you’re here?

” He stares, perplexed, but then his eyes widen like he realized what he said.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to insinuate that we’d fuck.

Jesus Christ. I’m…” He shakes his head, but an amused expression mars his face.

“I promise I’m never like this, but you just… ”

“I just what?” I hold my breath.

“My brain short-circuits when I’m around you,” he honestly replies.

I’m not sure what to say or how to feel about that. “Should I be offended or?—”

“No, God no. It’s hard to think when I’m looking at you.”

“I—” A rumble and a strike of lightning in the distance disrupts me.

“This sucks. I didn’t mean to waste your time. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t waste my time.”

“We didn’t play Marco Polo and?—”

“We did twenty circles.”

He drops his hands when I do. “What do you mean?”

“Twenty circles and we moved around a bit.” I flick my gaze to the spot we had originally been in and then to the one we’re now in.

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “I hadn’t realized we moved. Wow. You…you did that.”

“I didn’t do anything. That was all you,” I proudly say.

“But you helped.” He approaches me, his hand grazing mine under the water. Holding my breath, I stay still. “And—” Blinding streaks of light spread across the sky and the rumble is louder than before.

“We should really get out,” I urge and climb out, making a mental note to stop letting myself be so close to him. I’m not only struggling to think but to breathe.