Best Friend's Ex Box Set (A Second Chance Romance Love Story) Page 9

  I told myself that often, at least ten times just that day alone, and even though I truly thought I was making the right decision, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since that night. It was sensual, lustful, and everything that I needed and wanted from Elana. I had an amazing conversation, laughed harder than I had in years, and was able to be myself completely. That being said, between the sweet was the sour, and that sour was unbearable. When I got down about Lillie, it was almost a complete shutdown, something I had trained to do to myself in order to survive all of this. I had become a pro at building a really fast and really sturdy wall around myself. Elana was more than capable of breaking down that wall with just the sound of her laughter. To me, that was scary, and I didn’t want to continue to torture myself.

  I shook all those thoughts from my head and submerged myself in the event. It actually turned out that singles’ softball was fun and focused mainly on the softball while we were on the field. We were split into two teams, had some friendly banter back and forth, and then the “coach,” which happened to be the guy with the sling, put us into our respective positions. I started the game as a shortstop, but after the catcher took one right in the nuts, I was promoted to the catcher’s position. In all my years playing sports, I had actually never been the catcher before, and I found out that I was pretty good at it, especially when it came to helping the pitcher pick the right throw for the job. I had always been really good at reading people, which came in handy in the catcher position. Either way, the game was a whole lot of fun, and my team ended up winning, which meant the other team picked up the tab at the bar.

  The singles part of it didn’t kick off until we were across the street at the bar, drinking beer and talking about the game. Everyone seemed to get along really well, and it was really nice sitting around a not so crowded bar, having good conversations. I could tell that not everyone was there to find a date. A lot of them were there just for the comradery and friendship that the group seemed to bring to people. I had pictured a very stressful environment where men were on one side and women were on the other, silence between them until someone crossed the barrier. To me, it just looked like a whole bunch of people that enjoyed each other’s company, getting together and talking about everything from sports to their kids, and back to the normal get to know you questions. Suffice it to say, there was no pressure to meet anyone, and it seemed to be an unspoken thing that this was not the kind of event that advocated for women or men to pick up one-night stands. The environment was extremely respectful.

  By the point in which we went over to the bar, I had gotten comfortable enough with my teammates to talk freely, which made it a hell of a lot easier to talk to women. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad idea after all. I got to play some softball, meet some cool people, make some new, older friends that were on the same career level as me, and possibly even meet a woman. By the time I was into my second beer, I had already decided this might be a regular thing for me, or at least once or twice a month. It wouldn’t hurt for me to get some sort of exercise anyway, since lately, I had been skipping my morning runs to avoid the run of tears where I thought about Lillie the whole time and sweated out the alcohol that I drank the night before.

  I finished up my conversation with Brian, the guy with the arm sling, finding out that he had accidently sprained it tripping over a trashcan on Sunday morning. The first thing that popped into my mind was where my Sunday ended up, but I quickly shook that thought from my mind and wandered over to the table where Sandra was sitting. Sandra had been the pitcher all night, and I was immediately attracted to her brash and opinionated style. She was closer to my age, with long brown hair and brown eyes, and a thin but athletic build to her. She was petite in size, but she definitely made up for that in personality. I wandered over and stood at the edge of the table smiling at her.

  “You mind if I sit down?”

  “Not at all, star catcher,” she said with a smile. “Though I do have to say, the circumstances surrounding your move from shortstop were definitely tragic.”

  “Yeah.” I grimaced. “We definitely need to have a moment of silence for Andrew’s nut sack.”

  We sat there for a second in silence and then burst into laughter, clinking our drinks together. I lifted my arms in the air and yawned, stretching out my muscles. I couldn’t help but notice her checking me out, but I decided not to call her out on it. I still wasn’t sure if she would get my sense of humor. Most people didn’t.

  “I totally think if we were playing with wooden bats, we would have less ball injuries,” I said.

  “Are you kidding me? Aluminum is the way to go, all the way. You get more loft, more distance, and they work better with the softballs.”

  “Apparently not all soft balls,” I said, lifting my eyebrows and chuckling.

  “Yeah, well, that is why God made cups.” She chuckled.

  “Did God make those?” I asked, smirking. “I must have missed that in church.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s between when he created the heavens and when he rested,” she said. “It’s a really subtle reference.”

  “I’m Ollie, by the way, I don’t think I introduced myself,” I said, reaching out my hand.

  “Sandra,” she replied, shaking my hand. “But I had manners, so you already knew my name.”

  She looked at me seriously for a second and then busted into laughter, which was refreshing. She didn’t have the same sense of humor as me, but she was sarcastic and open, and I really liked those qualities in a woman. She was really sweet, and I was starting to think I had made the right choice by coming to singles’ softball.

  “I know we just met, but I think you’re funny,” I said, smiling. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? The Packers and the Steelers are playing tomorrow night, and they are showing the game at this local sports bar, Jack’s. I thought maybe you would want to come with me.”

  “That sounds fun,” she said, smiling. “It’s a date.”

  And there you have it.

  Chapter 16

  Elana

  Jeff Branson had this hometown boy quality to him that was actually kind of adorable. He had auburn hair, blue eyes, and a patch of freckles spread out over his nose and cheeks. At first glance, he was a handsome guy that was just a few years older than me, which I hoped meant he was more mature than most men my age. He seemed to have his shit together. He had shown up on time, wasn’t wearing someone else’s makeup on his clothes, held the door for me, and hadn’t come out and asked me for any sexual favors yet. It was sad that my criteria had lowered so much, but this guy was definitely ranking up there with the best one I had found so far.

  He worked as a bank manager, enjoyed fishing in his spare time, and was a huge fan of John Grisham novels, which I told him I wouldn’t hold against him. He didn’t laugh at all, giving me a flutter in my stomach, assuming he was going to be just another one that didn’t find me funny. Still, I admired the fact that he liked to read, which, as a librarian, was definitely something we should have in common. Having things in common would be a step above anyone else I had dated, unless you included Ollie, which I was trying my hardest not to do that evening.

  He liked my mother, too, and talked very highly of her. He told me how he worked at her bank, and after talking to him several times over the last few months, she had discovered that he was newly single, but not new enough to be looking for a rebound, and came off as a very nice guy. He had immediately told me how much he liked my mother when he picked me up for the date, which was a plus, but I thought maybe he was just nervous and trying to impress me. It seemed that my mother had become some sort of local bank hero, with what I was now referring to as the “lollipop heist.”

  “Your mom is a really big sweetheart,” he said from across the table. “She comes into the bank, which is where I met her originally. The first time I met her, she had come to me asking where the little lollipops the tellers used to give out went. She was very adamant about thes
e lollipops, and the complaint ended up escalating all the way up to management. It was impressive.”

  “My mother,” I said, shaking my head and laughing. “Let me guess: you now have lollipops back at every station?”

  “We have dum-dums and blow pops,” he said with a smile. “Sometimes, she comes by just to check and make sure we are keeping up with it. She usually brings some kind of goodie though, so we welcome her surprise inspections.”

  I sat there listening to him telling stories about my mom, kind of wondering what my mom was doing spending so much time in the bank. I guessed as a retired, divorced woman, she didn’t have a lot of other things on her plate. She needed more friends, maybe a group of women her own age that she could trade recipes with, gossip with, and try to start a dating service with, since she seemed to like to set me up so much. This one, however, I had asked for, ready to get rocking and rolling in the dating world and figuring the safest option at that point was to try someone my mother picked out for me. It probably wouldn’t work, but at least I gave it a try, and she was over the moon about me trusting her

  My mother was a nut, not necessarily in a bad way, but the kind of woman that would hug you to tears, feed you until you couldn’t move, and then set you up with a guy she met at the grocery store. I wasn’t kidding about that, either. She once tried to set me up with a guy that she met at the grocery store. I told her that I wanted to keep my skin on my body and not have my date wearing it around his apartment, so when she tried to set me up, to make sure it was a little more legit than the random guy at the corner store. She was definitely a handful.

  “So, what is your favorite color?” Jeff asked.

  “Um, blue,” I said with a smile.

  “Me too,” he said. “That’s one for one. Okay a little harder. What is your favorite sport?”

  “Well my favorite sport to watch is football, but to play, it would be…probably volleyball,” I said.

  “That’s cute,” he replied condescendingly. “I love when women want to get involved in football.”

  I ignored that comment and tried to focus on the things that we had in common. There were a few of them, but they were all things like favorite color and favorite type of soup, things that held no bearing on a relationship whatsoever. We continued our small talk, and I tried to be as attentive as I possibly could. I cracked at least five jokes over the time we drank wine and ate appetizers, but he didn’t seem to find me funny in the least. I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t get my humor or because he wasn’t smart enough to understand the joke. I hadn’t yet figured that one out. All I knew was that I was finding myself hilarious tonight, wondering what had me so riled up, while Mr. Boring Face across from me just stared at me or completely ignored my jokes completely. I was definitely leaning toward the idea that he was not smart enough to understand what I was saying.

  When it came to his jokes, though, he thought he was the laugh of the town. His jokes sucked, and most were mildly offensive, but he laughed his ass off in a high-pitched, honking tone that made everyone else in the restaurant glance over at us. This date was starting to take a turn, and apparently, my own humor had fallen so flat that there was no real way for me to bring us back from the brink. I slid slightly down in my seat, forcing a smile every time he erupted into laughter. In reality, I just wanted to throw a buttered roll at him and walk out of the restaurant, but I promised my mom I would at least try.

  “So, you are a librarian,” he said. “Who are your favorite authors?”

  “I like classic novels,” I said, excited to talk about something I was interested in. “I love Tolstoy, J.D. Salinger, Jane Austen. You know, the classics.”

  “I’ve never heard of them,” he sighed.

  “Wait, wait. You’ve never heard of J.D. Salinger? Like Catcher in the Rye? Or Jane Austen, who wrote Pride and Prejudice?”

  “Nope,” he said, popping a piece of food in his mouth.

  He continued on, talking about himself and how important he apparently thought he was. I guessed that “important” did not include educated or interesting in the least at that point. It was starting to get more than frustrating. I sighed on the inside, trying to figure out how I ended up on a date with a man that had never heard of Catcher in the Rye. I was pretty sure there was a time period where that was required reading in middle school. Why couldn’t I meet a guy that understood me, or at least listened to me? If you’d never heard of someone like Tolstoy, fine, but at least be interested in finding out who they were instead of rattling off your newest author loves that you bought their book on Amazon and read half of it. Try to have some level of intelligence and inquisitive nature, and I could totally see myself doing the same for him.

  I was starting to think that it was time that I settled for someone that was uneducated in literature and didn’t find me funny, two things I found to be my best qualities. How could I even start to think that I could do that, though? I had come here to have an actual date without any preconceived notions, but did that mean that I was supposed to settle for someone less than what I thought was worthy? But what was worthy anymore? It obviously wasn’t becoming someone’s regret text. That was for sure.

  I finished the rest of the date, mostly listening to him talk, and thanked him for a lovely evening. I could see he was considering a good night kiss, but I was quick to turn my head and start heading for the cab that I insisted I call instead of having him go out of his way to take me home. He didn’t argue with me at all, so I figured, why fight it? Just grab a cab and have some peace and quiet for a few minutes.

  When I got home, I went directly upstairs and changed for bed, feeling mentally exhausted from that date. I laid there going over the date, minute by minute, but my mind stopped me by bringing Ollie back into the picture. I tried to fight it, having done so all night long, but I was too exhausted now, so I let him flood my mind for the time being. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I was proud of myself for getting through the date without obsessing over Ollie the whole time. I realized while staring up at my ceiling, that I had the same feelings for Ollie then as I did in college, only they were a little denser from the hot crazy sex we had. I was crushing on Ollie hard. There was no way around it. He was everything I thought I wanted in a man, but I was now having a hard time trusting that instinct since I had based all my romantic notions around him. Either way, I knew there was no way that I could be with him, even if I decided that it was what I wanted.

  I could still remember spending all day with Lillie and Ollie, being completely jealous of their relationship, and going home and laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. I would fantasize about a life where I ended up with Ollie, happy, in love, and in a relationship that blew everyone else out of the water. My fantasies would range anywhere from traveling the world together, to settling down in Madison and having kids together. Now, I was left doing the same exact thing. Only this time, I wondered what the circumstances would be, and what I would have to do to finally be good enough for Ollie Anderson. Apparently, I had been good enough to sleep with but was lacking something that would make him want to pursue a relationship with me.

  I pushed Ollie from my mind and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the good things that happened on the date. We had a couple small things in common. That was good. We had both ordered our steaks cooked the same way, and that would make dinners at home easier. And he had paid for dinner without comment or question, which showed he had manners and was willing to treat me to something nice. I sighed, realizing I was stretching it. Hell, it was the small victories that mattered, right?

  Chapter 17

  Ollie

  Jack’s wasn’t too crowded, and never actually was, which was one of the reasons I picked the place to begin with. I figured it would be hard to get to know someone when you had to scream over everyone else to talk. The other reason I picked it was because it was across town from the college, and I had never been there with Lillie. I had been there a couple of ti
mes during college with the guys, but never with her, which meant my distractions were at a minimum. I stood to the side, waiting for Sandra to arrive, smiling big when she walked through the door in a Packers jersey tied at the waist, revealing her belly button and a pair of low rise jeans. She looked pretty sexy; I couldn’t deny it.

  “Hey there,” she said, leaning in and hugging me. “This is a cool place. I’ve never been here before.”

  “I came here a couple times in college, but I like it because it’s never overly crowded,” I replied.

  “Oh, you’re a university boy?” she asked, smiling. “I’ve heard you boys are trouble.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m a man then,” I replied with a wink.

  I laughed and put my hand on her lower back, motioning to the booths in the middle of the pub. We walked back and slid into a booth with a good view of the television and ordered some beers from the waitress. I was hungry, so I grabbed a menu and skimmed it really fast.

  “Can I also get an order of your cheese curds?” I asked the waitress. The woman nodded and left to put in our order.

  “Lord, that’s a killer,” Sandra said, shaking her head.

  “You don’t like cheese curds?”

  “I mean, I’m sure they’re delicious, but they’ll clog your arteries in a heartbeat.” She chuckled. “I’d like to live until I’m old and gray, and not be burdened with strokes and heart attacks.”

  “Yeah, well, you only live once,” I said, my mind flickering to Lillie.

  “So why not make the most out of it while you’re here and live a long and happy life?”

  “I’ve come to learn that you can be the healthiest person in the world, but when it’s your time, it’s your time,” I replied.

  “True. I personally have subscribed to a complete whole foods diet, minus the beer of course,” she said, lifting her glass. “I also follow this really stringent workout routine. It’s really not that bad once you get used to it.”