The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

6. The Spin Cycle

6

THE SPIN CYCLE

Luke

Just knock.

It’s not hard.

Lift your fist and rap on the door. You’ve done it a million times before. You stop by. You make plans. It’s easy.

But should I call him first? a voice in my head asks.

Another voice answers with a question: Do you usually call your friend first?

Ah hell, I’m talking to myself the next morning when I need to be firming up plans for our so-called official date.

This is bad.

I run a hand through my hair and wheel away from Tanner’s door. I head straight to the stairwell, yank open the door and fly down the stairs, all twenty flights, then rush through the lobby.

I need to figure out what’s going on with me and all these new feelings before I face him again. I need to get my head on straight.

Except, where am I going?

Think, man, think.

I should go for a run. Clear my head. Get rid of my sudden dirty thoughts about Tanner so I can slide into the friend zone on our official date , rather than the perving-on-my-buddy zone.

Except I just ran down twenty flights of stairs, and if that didn’t do it, I don’t know that a run is going to help. Maybe a cold shower will.

I spin around to retreat back into my building when a familiar voice calls out. “You do that on the field too? Run away when you see predators?”

It’s Nate.

And I’m instantly annoyed.

I turn around and face Nate. “Only when I see friends ,” I bite out.

This whole mess is his fault.

Nate shoots me a quizzical look as he comes up to me outside the building. “Dude. What’s up with you?”

“No. What’s up with you?” I counter. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

He steps back, holds up his hands, but not in surrender—more like protection. “Whoa. What are you talking about?”

Like he doesn’t know. “Last night,” I hiss out.

“The auction?” he asks, as if I couldn’t possibly be pissed about the auction.

“Yes. You dared me in front of everyone.”

Nate crosses his arms, stares me down. “You didn’t have to take it.”

Like that was an option. “That’s not how dares work and you know it.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a dare, Luke. Not a blood oath. You can decline.”

And…he’s right.

I’m an asshole. I drag a frustrated hand through my hair, but that won’t undo my stupid explosion. “Shit. Sorry, man. I…”

I don’t even know how to finish the sentence, let alone start it.

But it takes Nate all of two seconds to make a decision. He tips his forehead to a nearby coffee shop. “Let’s get you some fuel.”

A few minutes later, we’re inside Doctor Insomnia’s Tea and Coffee Emporium, standing by the counter at the window, watching New York roll by on a Saturday afternoon. “Hunter’s hanging with his sister right now, and I was on my way to meet Tanner to work out before he leaves for the ballpark,” he says, explaining his whereabouts by my building.

But the mention of Tanner sends the spin cycle in me to high again.

“Tanner,” I mutter into my coffee cup.

“Ah,” Nate says immediately. “Tell me more about… Tanner .”

I guess I’m that obvious in my newfound… lust . And it’s not like me to be so frazzled over a guy. “You sure? I don’t want to take away from your gym time with him,” I say sarcastically.

But I do want to take away from his gym time. I need to get my act together.

Nate waves a dismissive hand. “I texted him that I’d be a few minutes late. What’s going on?”

He’s not sarcastic. He’s serious. Concerned about me.

I lift my coffee, take a drink, then meet Nate’s eyes, trying my best at an answer. “I finally became the starting quarterback this past season. It was more nerve-wracking than I wanted to admit. The pressure was intense,” I blurt out. That’s a good enough way to begin.

He nods thoughtfully. “It’s a high-pressure job.”

“It is. I don’t want to mess it up. I rode the bench for a long time,” I add.

“You did. No argument there. You were patient.”

“This is my chance, and I need it. I want to do right by my mom,” I say, then reach for my phone to show him her texts from last night. It wasn’t entirely a lie when I said I needed to talk to my mom.

The woman has been my biggest supporter my whole life. She rearranged her entire schedule to ferry me to football practice every day. To take me to games every weekend. To make sure I had everything I needed.

She did it all with no help, just looked out for my twin sister, Lucy, and me, since her on-again, off-again boyfriend —AKA my sperm donor—took off when we were young. The deadbeat left her with two kids to raise and left me with the reminder that people can be assholes.

He’d swing by on holidays, every time with a new girlfriend, every time saying she was the one.

Like we were supposed to be happy for him since he’d fallen in love again. Like that made up for him not showing up for me, my sister, and my mom. I want to show her that her faith in me was not for nothing. That her support was for something valuable.

I click open the text thread.

Mom: Look what you did! I’m seriously proud of you! But I’m mad at you now too. Are you and Tanner a thing and you didn’t tell me? That would be so sweet!

Nate chuckles. “She’s the cutest.”

“She is,” I say with a smile. “I’m lucky.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says. He’s got a great family. A mom and a dad who are totally behind him.

Nate clears his throat. “But help me out here,” he says, rerouting the convo. “What does this have to do with Tanner?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? Facing the answer isn’t easy, but I do it anyway. “Dating. Men. Stuff like that. It’s…distracting,” I add, circling the issue of this meteor of lust that crashed into me last night.

“It can be.”

“And, well, Tanner was helpful. He was supportive when I was starting last season for the first time,” I admit, and there it is—the big issue with this lust. Tanner and I are friends. I’ve always seen him as a friend. But I’ve also always needed him as a friend. I lay it all out. “Like, when I had this one shitty game last season and threw two picks. He was there afterward. I went upstairs to his place and we shot aliens on his TV, ordered spicy, hot Korean food, and then he handed me a beer and said, Stay grounded. The next game will be better .”

“And was it? Better?”

“Yeah. It was. It was this simple piece of advice. I stayed grounded. And the game was better.”

I lift my cup and drink some more to keep busy.

“And you don’t want to risk that,” Nate says, wisely.

I nod into the coffee. “Yeah.”

He hums thoughtfully. “It’s hard. Attraction. Friendship. Figuring it all out.”

I drop my head in my hand and sigh. All the air escaping me feels like the truth pouring out at last. “Yes,” I mumble. Then, there’s the elephant in the room—is Tanner suffering from dirty thoughts too? Or was that friends declaration a clear line in the sand?

Don’t know. Don’t want to ask Nate. I am not in the mood for that level of vulnerability. Admitting this uncomfortable attraction was hard enough, thank you very much.

Nate pats my shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure you’ve been attracted to him for a while now.”

I lift my face. Do I look as miserable as I feel? “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he says emphatically. “Did you not hear what I said the other night?”

“I heard you. But…”

“But it sounded like something you didn’t want to hear?”

Hit the nail on the head, why don’t you, Nate? “Yes.” Since I’ve come this far, I go further. “Even if he’s…” I make a rolling gesture with my hand, hoping it translates to into me the same way . It seems to do the trick since Nate motions for me to keep going. “I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. That would be bad. I also don’t want to lose sight of what matters. The game.”

“Let me ask you a question then,” he says, thoughtful but analytical.

“Sure.”

“If you’re trying to focus on the game, and also trying to preserve the friendship, why did you bid one hundred thousand on a date with him?”

The answer is on the tip of my tongue. Because you dared me.

But that hardly covers a one-hundred-thousand-dollar date. The dare isn’t all of it.

“That’s a good question,” I say. But I’m starting to figure out the answer.

Because I wanted to bid on him.

When Nate leaves to meet Tanner, I hang behind, not wanting to bump into the two of them on the street. Not after I feel like I served up a raw piece of myself.

Alone at the counter, I text the guy I bid on last night.

Luke: Can I take you to mini golf tomorrow for our official date? We can go in the late morning, before your game. I think there’s mini golf at Hudson River Park.

There. I did it. Wasn’t so hard. Seconds later, my phone buzzes, right along with my pulse. That was fast.

Tanner: Yes. But there’s a new place in Chelsea. Strokers. I know the owner. I can make sure it’s not too crowded.

Damn. Someone is a planner. But as I stare at his message for a little longer, I key in on those last words. Not too crowded . Does that mean what I think it means?

No. It does not mean he wants to suck your dick in front of a clown at mini golf, you dog.

But, admittedly, that’s a nice image.

Minus the clown, of course.