“Right,” I shrug, “but that doesn’t mean she can’t make mistakes in the meantime.”
“Nate,” Kyle says, like a father explaining life, “you don’t get it. You’re so far on the other end of the spectrum you’re, like, from a whole different planet than Jessie. You hate marriage, hate anything long-term – shit, you’ve never even had a committed relationship. All you want to do is fuck around, and I’m the same. No bullshit, no lies, no pretending to be anything more. But Jessie needs something real. Do you know how many times she’s had her heart broken by guys like us? Guys who just wanna fuck around? Guys who tell her they want more when all they care about is getting what they want from her?”
I shake my head.
“Every time. Every single time. And I can’t let it keep happening. She deserves more than another asshole who just wants to get his dick wet. Dude, what we do is easy; banging hotties on a weekend, hooking up with chicks who just want a good time and no worries. Any idiot with a gym card and a few lines can get that, but Jessie’s not like us – she should have something proper, someone who’ll care about her, support her, help her achieve her dreams.”
I nod along as Kyle speaks, in full agreement even as I realize that this dream guy Kyle’s talking about, the one he wants his sister to end up with – I’ll never be that guy.
He goes on, “She’ll never get what she needs with assholes like us. All she’ll get is another fucking war-wound and the idea that she doesn’t deserve better.”
Kyle’s eyes meet mine, big and raw, like two open windows revealing the hope and faith he has for his little sister. I try to meet his gaze, try to offer the sense of brotherly solace and support that would have been easy a few weeks ago. But I can’t. I look away, back at the courts, back at the laughing teenagers. Ashamed.
I drive home with a sense of guilt so big you could start a religion with it. Almost twenty years of friendship, so strong you could build a house on it, and I’m risking it all for…for what? For the thrill of forbidden sex? For something I can get as easily as a candy bar?
Jessie’s amazing, there’s no doubt about that. She’s got something no other woman I’ve ever met has, and though I don’t know what it is, it drives me wild. Just hearing her name thrills me like a boom of thunder, and knowing I’m about to see her makes my body hot and restless in anticipation.
But it’s wrong. It can’t go on forever, and I know she deserves better. And if we don’t end it properly, it’ll end messily, and then all three of us will end up getting hurt – in more ways than one in my case.
Engrossed in the darkness of my own thoughts, I barely bother to check the constant pings that come from my phone. I get out of my car and walk up to my apartment feeling like I might not even have enough mental energy for the shower and sleep I desperately need.
When I see Jessie waiting by my front door, however, my fatigue disappears and I suddenly feel like I could go the whole night.
“Hey,” she says, timidly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I know it’s weird, me, standing here, waiting at your door like this.”
“It kinda is. Just the slightest bit psycho.”
She smiles a little and hangs her head, hair falling over her face in a way that makes me want to pull her close.
“You didn’t answer my messages.”
I sigh a little and step forward, unlocking the door and going inside. Once I’ve dropped my sports bag in the hall I turn around and look at her. She’s dressed in a thick hoodie and boyfriend jeans, as if trying to hide how hot her body is, but even the baggy clothes can’t hold back her intense allure.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ve been kinda busy today.”
Jessie steps past me confidently, scanning my apartment with the curiosity of someone planning to buy one.
“Ooh, so this is the infamous cave,” she says, poking her head into the rooms and glancing back quickly to make a funny face.
I follow her somberly to the front room, where she walks around the edge, studying the photos on the wall and trailing her finger over the furniture. I use the few moments she’s engrossed in her inspection to consider what I’m going to say to her.
Suddenly she stops and turns to me, a look of semi-serious disappointment on her face.
“You know, this place is kinda weird.”
“Weird?” I say, momentarily distracted from the obligation I feel to steer the conversation.
“Yeah,” she says, looking around once again as if to make sure, “it’s like…the same feeling you get when you go inside a model home.”
I frown at her.
“I like to keep the place clean.”
“So do I,” she says, frowning too, only with a little more humor. “But not like this. It just feels like the kind of place nobody actually lives in.”
I toss my keys onto the table.