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“Oh yeah? Good. I was wondering how long you were going to mope around about that tramp.” There’s a snarky bite to her voice that can’t be missed. I don’t really know why Melissa is so hostile toward Ashley. I guess it’s nothing I need to worry about anymore, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

“You can retract the claws. She’s not a part of my life anymore… Well, unless the kid is mine, but I doubt it.”

“Well, I have to say I wasn’t all that impressed with her to begin with. I mean, she’s very plain. And what kind of girl doesn’t like to go shopping?” she asks, sounding incredulous. Melissa’s whole life revolves around shopping and looking like a runway model, and she can’t understand someone who doesn’t enjoy the same things.

“Melissa, you need to be a little more open-minded. Not everyone loves to shop like you. Could you imagine if I didn’t like anyone that didn’t have the same passion for football as me? My social circle would be very limited.” I laugh a little, shutting off the light in the projection room. As I make my way to door, I’m trying to figure out why— even though I just made myself a promise to move on—I still don’t like Melissa trashing Ashley. The fact that I still care grates on my nerves.

“Your social circle is barely a circle as it is, Tag. Anyway, I called because I’m worried about you and this funk you’re in, so I wanted to go to dinner. What do you think? Say, like, an hour?” Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have noticed my slight irritation at her comments about Ashley. Maybe she’s just smart enough to pretend that she hasn’t.

“Sure, why not? Where did you have in mind, and are we meeting there?” I could use a night out of the house and some interaction with people that isn’t on a football field.

“How about Dina and Harrison’s? You love it there,” she suggests. Damn, this woman really does know me well.

Why didn’t I stick with the arrangement we’d had when it had been working for years? I haven’t been to Dina’s since the last time I took Ash to dinner there. But I’ve had many dinners there with Melissa over the years, so I’m hoping that’ll be my saving grace and the restaurant won’t be tarnished by memories of Ashley.

“Perfect. Meet me there?” I push thoughts of Ashley back out of my mind. Even with my total disgust for her, she still finds ways to creep into my head every damn chance she gets.

“I’m near your house. How about I just meet you at home and we can go to dinner together?” she offers up. It has been a while since Melissa was over… since before I started seeing Ashley and fucked her on my kitchen counter.

“Sure. Were you at your parents’?” Her mom and dad live about fifteen minutes from me on the outskirts of Paramus—much closer to me than Melissa’s place in the city.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “So now you know why I can totally use a drink.”

“You can tell me all about it at dinner. See you soon,” I tell her, heading out of the locker room.

“You know you always order the same thing whenever we come here,” Melissa points out with a smirk.

“I like it. It’s hard to find a good steak these days. I didn’t realize you’d been cataloguing my dinner choice over the years.” I give her a smirk of my own as I tip my wine glass toward her.

I look around the restaurant as our waitress delivers our salads and find myself thankful that Dina’s is quiet for a Thursday night. I’d needed to get out, but I really hadn’t wanted to be in a crowded place that could draw attention to us. The last thing I need is for some overzealous sports fan with a camera phone to see us out and assume something scandalous is going on, and I definitely don’t need anyone posting pictures of me and Melissa together. Then people would start asking questions—questions that would lead to talk about me and Ashley, which would lead to people tracking down Ashley and asking her questions. I don’t need to give her the opportunity to spew her lies for the public to read. I don’t know if she would do that, but it’s apparent my judgment isn’t always the best when it comes to women. Well, with the exception of the woman sitting across from me who’s currently bitching about her parents.

“I mean, how many times are they going to harp on this? It’s been four years!” she says with angry exasperation in her voice, her fork stopped midway to her mouth as if her point is too important to wait until after she had a bite. “It’s not my fault that I’m his only child and he has no one else to pass his legacy onto—his words, not mine.”

“I can see where he’s coming from though, Melissa. Think about it from his perspective. He’s worked his whole life building that company from the ground up. He wants to pass it on to you, give you something that means the world to him. Is that so bad? I know he’s not always so eloquent in his way of trying to persuade you to change your mind, but there are always worse things,” I tell her and take a sip of my wine as I give her a
think about it
look.

“Damn you, Tag. No wonder Daddy loves you so much. Maybe you should take over the company then, if you think it’s so great. Lord knows that would probably make Daddy happy. You can’t play football forever, and you’re like the son he always wanted.” She pushes her plate aside and rests her forearms on the table, awaiting my response.

“I doubt he’d love that. He wants you to have it. Maybe your future husband will have an interest in it. Then you can have your dad teach him all about it, and he’d still be leaving it to you.” It’s a good suggestion, if I do say so myself.

A mischievous look overtakes Melissa’s features, and she smiles a smile that’s nothing but trouble. “Maybe, Tanner. Just maybe.” That’s all she says on the subject before changing gears. “You have anything else going on with the kids?”

We haven’t talked about the work I’ve been doing with the underprivileged kids lately. I spent Thanksgiving going from boys’ home to boys’ home for the majority of the day. I was more than happy to spend my day with them. I love giving back and making those kids feel important to someone—especially on a day when we were all supposed to be thankful. Unfortunately, most of those kids have a hard time finding something to be thankful for, so I was glad that I could give them something to smile about. Spending time there also kept me away from Ma’s for most of the day, which was important because I wasn’t ready to tell them all about what had happened with Ashley. I got to my parents so late that I was able to tell Ma that Ashley had gone to her parents’ house after spending the day with me, and she didn’t question it.

“Not until closer to Christmas,” I reply to Melissa’s question, breaking out of my thoughts of Thanksgiving revelry. “I’m going to go to some of the houses I wasn’t able to get to on Thanksgiving with some gifts. Maybe I should do what that player in Houston does and take a few kids to the Toys “R” Us and let them have a one-minute shopping spree. He’s the shit for doing that. I don’t know how he just picks a few kids though. I wouldn’t be able to say no to all the others. I’m thinking about maybe getting something big for each group home, like an Xbox or something else they wouldn’t otherwise get.” It’s a shame that things most kids have and take for granted are such a big deal for those at the boys’ homes.

“You really are something special, Tanner. Don’t ever forget that. Maybe you should start your own foundation. That way you could reach more kids than just the ones in the nearby communities.” She gives me a sincere smile.

“That’s a brilliant idea.” It really is. I’ll have to get Davis on this idea as soon as possible. I can’t believe it hasn’t ever crossed my mind before. It would be the perfect time too. With all the publicity I’ve gotten from standing up for that little boy, Jesse, when that asshole from the open practice nearly got him trampled, everyone has been super supportive of my little “missions”.

We finish up our dinner and wine with our usual banter before I take care of the check, and we make our way to the car to head back to my house. I spend the ride telling Melissa all about how I plan to have Davis look into the possibility of starting a foundation and find out everything that’s involved. Like the true friend that she is, Melissa offers to help me anyway possible.

When we arrive and head into the house, I tell Melissa to grab a bottle of wine from the wine rack in the dining room while I grab some glasses from the cabinet. We meet back up at the island. Melissa has picked a bottle of Bordeaux. I open it, pour us each a glass, and set it aside, giving it a few minutes to breathe.

I notice Melissa staring at the kitchen island. Her cheeks have a slight pink tinge to them that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her breathing has picked up little bit. I have a feeling she’s remembering the last time we were here and is looking for a repeat of our exploits. She glances from the counter to me and back to the counter again, before pushing off of it and rounding the island in my direction. I know what she’s planning, but my brain still takes a minute to process everything that’s going on.

Melissa’s mouth molds against mine, and she rubs the tiny tip of her tongue back and forth over the seam of my lips, waiting to gain entrance. I open my mouth, giving her what she wants. She has herself pressed tightly up against my side as she rubs her hand up and down the planes of my stomach. I wait for the arousal to kick in. Hell, I’d even take a twitch of my dick, anything to tell me that the lower half of my body is on board with this. I give myself time to adjust. Maybe it’s just that this is a new person so my brain is confused—but Melissa
isn’t
a new person. When she places her hand on my cock and he doesn’t even flinch, I know this isn’t going to work right now.

I pull away from her and look down at her pouty lips, noticing they don’t look nearly as irresistible as Ashley’s do after a make out session
. As irresistible as Ashley’s?
Why the fuck am I thinking about Ashley’s lips when I have Melissa’s ready-and-willing, non-betraying lips right in front of me? No wonder my dick doesn’t want to join the party.

“What’s the matter?” Melissa asks, looking up at me with confusion and sounding slightly put out.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts as far away from Ashley as possible.

“Is this about her?” She closes her eyes as she mumbles something under her breath that I don’t quite catch.

“No,” I say, scrubbing my hands up and down my face, trying to gain some insight into what the hell is going on. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.” I give her honesty because that’s what Melissa and I have always had together: honesty.

“I’m sorry.” She sounds more remorseful than angry. “You had said that you were ready to move on, and tonight had felt like old times. I miss the old us. I guess I just got the wrong impression.” Her eyes are glued to the floor, and her shoulders are slumped. I think she’s embarrassed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Melissa embarrassed before.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Melissa. I
am
ready to move on, but I guess I’m not ready to go there yet. Let’s just focus on making our friendship about more than just sex,” I tell her, pulling her to me for a hug and kissing the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Tag.” She sighs into my chest. “Our friendship was always more than just sex.”

I’m slightly alarmed at the way Melissa seems to be hurt, but then again, we’re in uncharted territory here. Neither one of us has ever broken off our arrangement for a relationship and then come back to start things up. I wonder if there’s some type of etiquette for this thing.

Chapter 2

Ashley

The knock on my door startles me from my writing zone. I’m working on an article about some of the upcoming holiday events going on in the city. Christmas here is always beautiful. Watching the decorations being erected on almost every block always puts a smile on my face. I never miss the tree lighting either, which happened two nights ago. I always watch, whether it be in-person or on television. My article about all the festivities shouldn’t even be considered work. Christmas is by far my favorite time of the year, and I love this month. It may also have something to do with fact that my birthday is this coming weekend.

Setting my laptop down on the coffee table, I get up to answer the door. I don’t know if shocked is the proper word to describe my feelings when I look through the peep hole and find Melissa standing on the other side.

“Melissa, what are you doing here?” I ask, opening the door. What the hell is she doing here?

“I’d like to have a word with you.” The tone of her voice is cold and harsh.

I sigh, opening the door fully for her to come in. I have a feeling that this isn’t going to be a friendly visit. By inviting her inside, I’ll save face, and the whole floor won’t hear my business.