Page 43 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)
“From what they’ve said? What do you mean?” I tilt my head, eyeing her suspiciously when her cheeks flame and she darts her gaze away from mine.
“You’re supposed to take something off.”
“Josefine.” I take a step forward, close enough I could grab her. “Where did you get that from? Huh?”
“I’m not going to answer that. You already know the answer to it.”
“Tell me.”
“Take something off.”
“Not until you tell me.”
She softly groans, her eyes colliding with mine. “I looked you up. Happy?”
I smirk, playing it cool, but inside, the fireworks are triple what they usually are. “Tell me more. What else did you find?”
“Take something off. I’m done with this conversation. You, me, couch. Date tonight, got it? Let’s move on.”
I don’t prod and kick my shoes off, pushing them to the pile of our stuff. I smile, too smug for my own good, but then it slips, knowing it’s my turn to share something. It’s always easier when it’s not about me.
I shift away from her keen stare, hating that she most likely knows what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling.
I wish I wasn’t like this; I wish I was as happy on the inside as I look on the outside.
But I’m not. My head is dark, barely above the surface, and the water is murky. The gloomy clouds above aren’t helping.
She’s still staring at me with that same patient look of hers. She doesn’t have a lot of that, I’ve noticed. But for me, her eyes are drowning with all the patience in the world. I don’t deserve it.
What should I say? What should I say? What should I say?
I wish it would’ve been me and not Adrian. If I could, I’d switch places with him in a heartbeat.
I grind the back of my teeth, swallow back those words, and force others out.
“When I was in eighth grade and Adrian was in seventh, Dad let us skip school. He didn’t tell us why, only said to pack a bag because we were going to be gone for the weekend.
We didn’t ask questions and did what he said.
” A boulder lodges itself in the middle of my throat as the memory plays in my head.
“A four-hour car drive later and we were in Monterey because MCU was having their Opening Day.” The bridge of my nose burns.
“Dad got us tickets for the series. Wanted us to see what our futures would look like. Adrian and I were geeking out because it was our first trip away from home. Our first time watching a baseball game that wasn’t on TV.
Our first time watching our dream school play.
” My throat tightens. “It was also the first time Dad and Mom had enough money to take us out and not worry about not having enough to pay for the bills. We knew not to take it for granted.” I blow out a heavy breath and dryly chuckle.
“That day, Adrian and I promised each other that we would…” My teeth chatter and my chest feels too taut; I can barely get any air in.
“One day be here, playing together. And now we’re…
” I get choked up but clear my dry throat.
“Not.” I swallow back the ball of emotions clogging my throat and finish my story. “Opening Days are weird for me.”
Josie’s warm hand wraps around my wrist. She squeezes it gently then releases it. She doesn’t say she’s sorry or fills the silence with words that’ll do nothing for me. Instead, she unlaces her Converse, takes them off, and pushes them next to mine.
“Mom and I didn’t have a good relationship.
Not sure I can even call it that because she didn’t treat me like a daughter but a …
” Her voice wavers and she looks away briefly before glancing back at me.
“A person she lived with. I don’t know which version of her to miss or even what I miss about her because I didn’t really know her. ”
I want to unpack that and also hug her because she looks and sounds in pain. Guilt fills her voice and her features darken.
“No questions, please,” she says a second later as if she could hear my thoughts.
I tug my Dri-FIT off and drop it on the pile.
I don’t crack a joke when her eyes roam over my bare chest. I let her look as I consider what I want to say. “Dad and I don’t have a good relationship. It’s stale at best. Nonexistent at worst.”
She grabs the hem of her tank and pulls it off. Leaving her in a cream-colored bra. I swallow as her large breasts softly bounce when she discards her top.
“I’m not really sure what to do with my life,” she admits. “I swam because Mom wanted me to. I liked it, I really did, but after she passed, I tried to continue, but then I couldn’t. I felt burnt out. Now I’m just here.”
I really want to hug her. I really want to say something, but I know she doesn’t want to hear it right now.
Hooking my fingers under the waistline of my shorts, I drop them and shove them with everything else. “I haven’t opened the Draft Prospect Link email. It’s sitting in my inbox unopened, and I’m not sure if I ever will open it.”
Josie’s brows twitch and lips part slightly. She undoes the button to her denim shorts and slips them off, letting them pool at her feet before adding them to our pile.
A deafening pause stretches between us. Unspoken questions fill the gap. They’re too loud, but neither one of us does anything to voice them out loud. There’s so much to say, so much to unpack, so much neither one of us wants to admit, but something we both desperately want to get out.
Despite the charged silence, we stay quiet. Standing almost naked, me only in my socks and briefs and her in a bra, a thong—I’m not sure, I’m afraid to look—and socks.
I should ask the questions running manic in my head, but I don’t. I step closer, much closer than I know I should. My fingers itch at my sides, but I leave them there.
She cranes her head back, the orange sky illuminating her face. She looks like a goddess. “I shouldn’t but I keep wondering why you haven’t kissed me yet.”
My jaw clenches and I remove my socks. No questions. “I shouldn’t but I really want to touch you right now.”
Her eyes dilate and breath quickens as she takes her socks off. “I’m not going to stop you.”