Free I Know It's Over by C. K. Kelly Martin

up next to me, pulling the sheet up with her like we were in a PG movie. “I mean, I do like you. I like you a lot, but I think we’re better as friends and this is going to fuck that up, don’t you think?”
    Dani’s cheeks reddened as she stared at me. I thought she might cry and I wished that we could fast-forward through the part where I feel like a prick, but then she let the sheet fall and started pulling on her clothes. “There’s someone else, right? Do I know her?” She sounded calmer than she looked and when she whirled back towards me, the redness was gone.
    “I’m not even sure there’s someone else.”
    “Does she have a name?” Dani persisted.
    I reached down and gathered my boxers and T-shirt from the floor. “Don’t get mad; there’s nothing going between us…”
    Dani put her hands on her hips and watched me put my clothes on, her question gaining momentum in the silence.
    “It’s Sasha Jasinski,” I confessed, stepping into my jeans. “But we’re not together or anything.”
    Dani’s left hand dropped to her side as she grimaced. “You’re making a big mistake. She’s not your type. You’ll be bored in two days.”
    “That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Stupid coming from me, I know. I pulled up my fly and clamped my mouth shut.
    Dani scowled at me. “Just help me make the bed, Nick. Then you’re free to go.”
    So I did. I helped her tuck in the sheets, then walked out of Dani’s house and into the humidity, still in shock. Part of me was kicking myself. The other part was worried Sasha wouldn’t be interested in me, although the evidence suggested otherwise. On top of that I was starving and dinner would probably be on the minimalist side again.
    I walked all the way home, feelings jumbled up inside me like a can of stew. The house was deserted when I got there and the first thing I did was stick a pizza in the microwave. I ate it in front of the TV with a can of ice-cold Coke, trying not to think about the implications of what I’d just done and the second thing I did, I picked up the phone and called Sasha Jasinski.

 
    seven
    Sasha’s parents had endless rules when it came to guys. They made lies a necessity from the start. We spent the odd night at their house for dinner or watching TV in the room off the kitchen and even fewer nights at my house, my mom happily presiding over the events. The rest of the time we were at the mall, the movies, the beach, or up in my room for the afternoon with the door shut (alibis courtesy of Lindsay and Yasmin) and Holland swearing not to rat us out. Not much happened up there anyway. Sasha made it clear that there were a lot of things she wasn’t ready for. I told her I was okay with that and in some ways I was. I didn’t want to rush her.
    Of course it wasn’t as simple as that. I really wanted her. I thought about her all the time. Sometimes I imagined us doing the stuff Dani and I had done. Other times I found myself speed-dialing Sasha’s cell phone to tell her the stupidest things. Like once I called just because a song reminded me of “Unsent,” Sasha’s favorite Alanis Morissette song. Another time we watched CSI together over the phone, talking through the commercials, and at the end of the show Sasha said, “I have to babysit Saturday. You want to come by?”
    “I don’t know,” I said dryly. “What’s the rule book say on that?”
    “Same thing it always says,” she replied, “but the Wilkinsons won’t be back until after midnight.” Two and a half hours after Sasha’s curfew. I liked the sound of that but was surprised she’d offered; she wasn’t wild about breaking her folks’ rules. “I’ve been thinking about the end of summer,” she continued. “Between hockey, school, and everything else we probably won’t have much time together.”
    “Probably,” I agreed, not liking the thought of that. Keelor had been giving me shit for not spending more time on the ice lately. I’d only made two