heart had stopped. I’d believed what he’d told me—that it was a ruse to get him upstairs and that he stopped when he’d figured out what she was up to. But it was in that moment that I’d realized my feelings for Decker were much stronger than they should have been. And then, when he and I had spoken outside before I’d left that night, I’d realized my feelings were stronger than his, too.
You’re my best friend.
Those four words were like a punch in the chest. But what had I expected? For Decker to have the big ah-ha realization moment at the exact same time as me? Not likely. Hell, my moment of realization wasn’t even all that awesome. Since we took our friendship to the next level, Decker has never expressed that he wants us to be anything more than what we are. In fact, he’d always seemed pretty content to just keep our whole “relationship” a secret. Maybe if he would have just come out with it, his friends would have laid off with the teasing and the name calling. Or maybe it would have been even worse.
Then, to make the situation even more complicated, what do I do? I go and fall in love with him. Smooth, Casey. Real smooth. I’ve always loved Decker, but it’s different now. Too different.
I hear the tell-tale sound of the window being raised so I roll onto my side to watch him climb in. Decker has been climbing in and out of my bedroom window for more than ten years, but it’s only happened at night, like this, the past few months.
Regardless of the obvious strain, our appetite for one another hasn’t changed. All summer long we’d feasted off one another night after night. It’s as if I’ve been trying to quench all my desires before our impending separation. The separation he’s still unaware of.
My heart pinches inside my chest at the thought of this being our last night together. Maybe, just maybe, things can be different. There is still time.
I take in his slightly disheveled appearance and my stomach clenches. He’s really filled out over the past year. Thick, corded muscles in his arms and shoulders—natural for a pitcher, tight abs, and muscular thighs. Now another part of me is clenching.
He struggles his way into the room, then stumbles over to my bed. His auburn hair is slightly longer than last summer’s buzz cut, but still quite short, and spiked in a messy, yet organized, way. He gives me a half smirk, his eyes are hooded.
Great. He’s drunk. Just how I’d wanted to remember tonight. I should’ve said no. I should’ve ignored the text. I should’ve locked the damn window.
But it’s Decker. My kryptonite.
“Have you been drinking?” I foolishly ask him, already knowing the answer to my question.
He laughs as he drops on the edge of the bed and starts pulling off his shoes. “A little,” he admits.
“I thought you were in training.” The frustration is evident in my tone—not that he’d notice in his present state.
Decker got a baseball scholarship to go to the University of South Carolina. He is going to be a Gamecock, and everyone in our town is so proud of him. I’m proud of him. Even though the baseball season isn’t until the second part of the year, they have the team train all-year-round to some degree. And when he’d accepted the scholarship, he also accepted a pretty extensive summer training schedule to prepare him for what he will have to deal with once he is on campus.
“It’s one night, Case. Stop being so serious all the time. It’s summer,” he slurs. He finally wrangles off his pants and shirt and flops down on his back.
“It won’t kill you to take things seriously every once in a while.” Maybe if you took things seriously once in a while, you’d realize that life was about to change, I think to myself but don’t dare speak. I don’t want a confrontation with Decker. Yeah…I’m a chicken.
“And it won’t kill you to give it a rest every once in a while,” he counters. And he’s right. It is our last night