My Player Bestfriend (Book #1)

Chapter Eighteen

The text sat there all night.

Unread. Untouched.

But never out of mind.

You deserve to feel chosen. Always.

Austin was asleep on the couch again. I could hear his soft breathing from my bedroom.

I couldn't stop thinking about how easy he looked there. Like he was trying so hard not to take up space. Like he was waiting to be told to go.

And maybe that was the problem.

I didn't want someone who needed permission to fight for me.
I wanted someone who already knew I was worth it — who never had to lose me to realize what they had.

So I did it.

I texted Luke back.

Me: Want to grab a drink?

The reply came faster than I expected.

Luke: Thought you'd never ask. My place?

I hesitated.

Then:

Me: Send the address.

It was a stupid decision, and I knew it.

I didn't even change clothes. I just threw on a hoodie, grabbed my keys, and left Austin asleep under my roof.

God, what am I doing?

Luke answered the door with that same crooked smile that always made me feel like I was walking into trouble.

"You came," he said.

"I did."

We didn't waste time with small talk.

He poured us both a drink, but I barely touched mine.

We sat on the couch. Far apart at first. But somehow, we kept leaning in. Kept looking too long. Kept remembering what it felt like to be wanted — and more importantly, what it felt like to be wanted without the hurt.

"You seem tense," he said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I am."

"Let me help with that."

And then he kissed me.

It was nothing like kissing Austin.
It was smoother. More calculated. Like Luke knew what buttons to press and when to press them.

I let him.

I let his hands wander under my hoodie. I let him pull me onto his lap. I let him kiss down my neck until I forgot what I was even mad about.

It wasn't love.

It wasn't even connection.

It was heat. It was adrenaline. It was me trying to outrun my own feelings by setting fire to someone else's bed.

Clothes came off. Lines blurred. Breathing turned heavy.

And just when things started getting real — too real — I froze.

Luke noticed.

"Hey," he whispered, kissing my shoulder. "You okay?"

I nodded, breath caught in my throat. "Yeah, I just... I need a second."

He backed off, hands gentle now. "Take all the seconds you need."

I sat up. Pulled the blanket over my chest. Looked around like I was waking up from some dream I didn't mean to have.

What was I doing?

Why was I here?

Why was I letting someone else try to make me forget the one person I couldn't stop thinking about?

I left before anything actually happened.

Technically, I hadn't cheated.

But it felt like I had.

Not on Austin.

On myself.

On the girl who swore she wasn't going to let guys be the reason she broke herself into pieces anymore.

I got home just before sunrise.

Austin was still asleep on the couch. One arm draped over his chest. Hair messy. Hoodie half-falling off one shoulder.

He looked peaceful.

He trusted me.

And I walked out anyway.

I dropped onto my bed, face first, and let the guilt settle over me like a second skin.

I didn't cry.

Not yet.

Because I didn't even know who I was crying for anymore.

Austin?

Luke?

Or the girl I used to be before any of this?