Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Summer always brought with it a little guilt.
My career was one of very few that provided ten weeks off during the warmer months, but it didn’t stop my overactive brain from latching on to a project.
In the past, I threw myself into schoolwork, trying to come up with new ways to differentiate the curriculum and familiarize myself with my new students’ plans and data.
But for the first time since I started, I forced myself to take a break—to give myself the first half of July before jumping back into planning mode.
Since returning from Dallas last week, the days blurred together, a wash of walks through the city, trips to the farmer’s market, and spending the nights curled up around my Kindle.
Not to mention—avoid Damien Ramos.
Normally, that would be an easy feat. It wasn’t like my world intersected with professional baseball players regularly.
At least, it didn’t before I moved in with Ollie.
But with her business and friendship with Parker Drobrek, the third baseman on the Hawks, the guys came over all the time.
Either that, or she spent her nights cheering them on in the outfield with the rest of our friends.
Every time she left the house, she begged me to join them, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
As much as I wanted to forget about my night with Damien, it was impossible, especially when his memory crept into my dreams every night.
No, there was no telling what I would do if I spent more time around Damien.
It was a toss-up between embarrassing myself like a nerdy schoolgirl with an overwhelming crush or begging him to fuck me again.
Nope. Not going to happen. My life was safe—albeit a little boring—but at least there was no room for further heartbreak.
Spending time with Damien proved I didn’t have the disposition for one-night stands; my tender little heart latched on to that comfort and clung to it with all its might.
It was safer to keep myself guarded, to go back to my insular world and enjoy the relaxation.
But by the next weekend, Ollie had had enough.
As I laid in bed, my hair in a bun and my favorite cactus pajamas on, she burst through my door, chucking a dress on my bed. “Put this on.”
I looked up at her and shook my head. “Are you insane? It’s after ten.”
“Please, grandma.” She scoffed, plopping into bed next to me. “Most of the bars downtown are just filling up. No one gets there until at least eleven.”
“In your twenties,” I laughed, tugging my comforter back over my shoulder. “Leave me be. I’m like that aging gazelle at the back of the pack. Let the lions eat me and run free.”
“Nope.” Ollie ripped the blanket back from me. “The only thing eating you tonight is a hot-blooded man if you play your cards right. Like that guy you did not hook up with in Dallas.”
My cheeks heated at her words, trying to keep the guilt off my face.
Despite my insistence nothing happened in Dallas, Ollie refused to let it go until I reluctantly admitted I went home with someone.
The only saving grace was that she didn’t know it was Damien.
She might have suspected we hooked up, but she never said the words aloud.
Thank goodness, because lying to her about a nameless man was one thing, but denying Damien all together was more than my moral compass could take.
As she stared at me, I shook my head. “I told you—that was a one-night thing. My first, and only, one-night stand.”
“Ugh,” Ollie sighed as she stood. “That’s such a waste. You’re too hot to waste all your nights tucked into bed alone. You need to find a man who fucks like a God and then milk him for every orgasm he’s worth.”
I chuckled, diving back into the book on my e-reader.
I tried that plan, and it failed spectacularly.
From now on, the only men I wanted to obsess over were fictional.
They turned you on, said all the right things, and you never had to worry about miscommunication or insecurities.
Ollie ripped it out of my hand, reading over the section I had just breezed through.
“Brianna Sideris! Are you reading porn?”
“No!” I shrieked as I pulled it back. “Don’t defile romance books with the word porn. It’s smut, if you must know.”
“Smut where three baseball players are sharing one girl?” She smirked. “And here I was, thinking we were opening your eyes to all these new experiences. Who knew a little skank was hiding underneath those cardigans?”
“What’s wrong with my cardigans?”
“Nothing,” Ollie said a little too quickly.
She stole my e-reader once again and climbed out of my bed, holding it behind her back.
“Okay, tough love. You’ve been hiding out for almost a week, and it’s getting a little too Gray Gardens for my taste.
The whole hook-up thing threw you for a loop, but you can’t let that scare you away from any new experiences.
” She tossed the e-reader back to me. “Also, I’m a needy bitch and want you to hang out with me.
So if you don’t want to go out, fine, but you are leaving this room and spending some time with your roommate. ”
My cheeks burned as my eyes darted down.
Was that what I’d been doing? Being alone was normal for me, especially the last few years.
Even when Todd was home, it wasn’t like he spent a lot of time with me.
My friends were great, but a small part of me always wondered if it was more because of pity than genuine friendship. At least, until Ollie stormed in here.
Climbing out of bed, I walked over to Ollie and pulled her into a hug. Her short blonde bob knocked into my nose, but I held tight. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “It wasn’t personal. I’ve been alone for a long time, so sometimes, I become a bit of a hermit.”
“I get it,” Ollie said as she pulled back. “But you’re not alone, Bri. Not anymore. You don’t have to explain if you want some space, but I’m always going to come check up on you, pull you out of your comfort zone if you’ve been burrowing a little too long.”
The earnest look in her eyes made my heart swell. It might have taken my entire life imploding, but at least I’d walked away with better friends, people who were in my corner, even when I didn’t realize it. “Thanks, Ollie.”
“Always, Bri. But…” She smirked, leaning down to pick up the dress from my bed. “If you want to make it up to me—be my wing woman tonight. See if we can make some new friends?”
“No promises,” I chuckled as I took the dress from her. “But I’ll at least keep you company.”
She beamed back at me. “Challenge accepted.”
“Okay, challenge failed,” Ollie groaned as she slid into the bar’s booth, rubbing her ankle. “How was everyone at that club the biggest douche on the planet?”
As the bartender dropped our drinks on the table, I grabbed mine, needing something cool after battling the masses earlier.
When Ollie dragged me out to the club earlier, she failed to mention it was the grand opening.
Everyone in Erie City under the age of twenty-five had gathered inside its doors, making it almost impossible to find the bar, much less order a drink.
After over an hour of trying to flag down a server, we called it quits, heading toward our favorite dive bar.
From the outside, the Rusty Anchor looked like you’d get tetanus from sitting on a barstool.
However, that was intentional, keeping away any wandering tourists or the college crowd.
But once you walked inside, the place was comfortable and clean, with a vintage vibe that always made me smile.
A large mural of a pinup girl filled the wall behind the tables, black iron lights casting the space in a golden glow.
Aged wood covered the bottom half of the walls while a dark green patterned wallpaper stretched up to the tin ceiling.
“And the worst part?” Ollie said as she tipped back her drink. “The bouncer called me ma’am. Do I look like a ma’am? Have I crossed an imaginary line into adulthood and didn’t realize it?”
“Ollie, you own a condo and have a burgeoning business,” I answered. “Why didn’t you think you were an adult?”
“Okay, when you put it in those terms, sure, I’m an adult. But I’m not responsible enough to call myself one. If an emergency happens, there’s no way I should be the one in charge. Way too much responsibility for me to handle.”
I chuckled as I grabbed my drink. “Coming from the woman who handles crises daily. Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re an adult. And if you think you’re old, imagine how I feel.” I winced as the vodka hit the back of my tongue. “Next time, we skip that scene and head straight over here.”
“I’m not arguing with you about that.” Ollie sighed as she relaxed into the booth. As I took another sip of my drink, she leaned forward. “Have you thought anymore about your list?”
I choked on my drink, pulling over a napkin to wipe the traces from my lips. “What list?”
Her eyes narrowed back at me. “Your spice list. C’mon, Bri. Now that I know what books you read, we can add so many more options.”
“They’re romance!” I protested.
She held up her hands. “There’s no judgment here. In fact, I need you to give me some recs. Real life has been letting me down, and I could use some fictional action to keep my mind busy—the filthier, the better.”
“Oh.” My anger deflated at her words, too used to getting comments about my reading choices.
As I weighed her words, Ollie dug through her purse, pulling out a pen with a triumphant smile.
She grabbed one of the paper placemats and flipped it over, writing in bold letters across the top Brianna’s Ho Phase.
I reached out and snatched it away from her. “Okay, you cannot phrase it like that.”
“Why?” Ollie said, taking it back out of my hands. “Everyone has one, and no offense, Bri, but you desperately need a ho phase. Teach yourself what you want when you’re ready to settle down again.”
“Can’t we call it something like Bri’s Summer of Love?”
“That sounds more like you’re going on a cruise for divorced parents.” As I continued to stare her down, she relented. “Fine, but I want my formal protest noted.”
“Noted.”
Ollie nodded then started numbering the side of the paper. When she reached ten, I took the pen away. “I only have eight weeks left of the summer, Ol. I’d like to walk when I have to set up for school.”
“Walking is overrated,” Ollie mused as she took back her pen. “Now—what is the first thing on your fantasy list?”
I paused, scrunching my face in thought. Was this a normal thing people did? Just list their sexual fantasies out loud for their friends to hear? I wasn’t opposed to telling Ollie what I wanted, but after years of my mother making sex sound like the ultimate shame, I struggled to find the words.
Ollie frowned and reached out to take my hand. “If this is too much, we can skip it. It’s up to you, Bri.”
“I want to do it.” Lifting my empty glass in my hand, I called over our server. “Two shots of tequila, please, extra limes.”
“Two for me, too,” Ollie beamed up at her.
Once the drinks came, I downed both, needing more liquid courage in my veins. After I sucked down the limes, still feeling the wince of the tequila as it settled in my stomach, I looked over at the list. “Does it make me pathetic if I say I don’t know where to start?”
“Nope.” Ollie smiled at me, and my stomach somersaulted. “That’s what you have best friends for.”