She moves around the apartment, babbling, picking up clothes and tossing them on Clyde. Then she moves to me, takes the vacuum, and does a quick sweep of the rug before turning it on the hardwood setting and running it around the living space, all the while, I stand in the entryway, watching her, wondering . . . who the hell is Dudley?

Once she’s done, she puts the vacuum away, checks herself in the entryway mirror, and then comes up to me to give me a big hug. When she pulls away, she shoulders a small purse and says, “I have to head out. I’m so sad we couldn’t talk about your trip, but when I get back, okay?” She pats my arm and starts to move past me when I stop her with my hand to her stomach. I don’t mean to touch her bare skin, but it’s the only thing I can reach before she walks out the door. Shoulders side by side, she looks up at me in surprise and then swats my hand away. “Your hand is clammy.”

I don’t laugh.

I don’t even smile.

“Who is Dudley?”

“Oh, I thought I told you. He’s my date for tonight.”

Date?

My entire body boils with anger and annoyance, and I know it’s an irrational reaction. I certainly have no claim over anything Kinsley does, nor anyone she sees, but it still irritates me because . . . well, because . . .

Why does it irritate me?

She’s my friend. She can date whoever she wants.

And yet, I want to grab a hold of her wrist and force back to the couch where I hold her captive, maybe force her to pose for me while I draw that perfect slope of her nose, or engage in more conversation just to see how the crinkle in the corner of her eyes forms when she laughs.

I want to decompress with her after a long road trip. I want to feel her body pressed up against mine while we watch a movie or share one of her weird vegan desserts that she claims will change my life but only makes me wonder if she was born without taste buds.

“Date?” I finally question her.

“Yeah. Joan set us up. He’s a friend of Phinny and he’s quite the looker. I call him Studley in my head. Look.” She pulls her phone out of her purse and shows me a picture of a guy in a finely tailored suit, looking at the camera while holding on to his chin.

“Looks like a douche.”

Kinsley swats at my chest. “He’s not a douche. He’s a really nice guy. We’ve been texting.”

“He’s posing like a douche. Therefore, he’s a douche.”

She looks at the picture and then back up at me. “You pose all the time for those magazine photo shoots.”

“Because they force me to and they never look douchey.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She stuffs her phone back in her purse. “He’s very nice and I can’t wait to meet him. He’s even a vegetarian, which is pretty darn close to vegan. If I play my cards right, I could convert him. Anyway, I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up.” She stands on her toes and presses a light kiss to my cheek before taking off, leaving me alone in my apartment for the first time since she’s moved in.

I don’t fucking like it.

After cleaning with products I’d never seen before for half an hour, I finally gave in and sent a text to Linc, asking if he wanted to grab a drink. I needed to get out of the apartment, desperate to, because everywhere I looked, I ran into a little piece of Kinsley. Whether it was a thong she misplaced, her many mugs still strewn about, or a picture of an animal she must have brought home, I couldn’t stand to be in the apartment alone anymore, especially knowing Kinsley was out with some other dude.

“You look like you want to murder someone,” Linc says, taking a seat next to me at Paddy’s, the bar we frequent because no one bothers us.

I lift my beer to my lips and take a long pull before setting it down. “What kind of name is Dudley?”

Linc motions to the bartender, who knows our orders by heart, and situates himself. “Dudley? I don’t know, but it isn’t great, unless you call him Studley Dudley, then it’s a pretty badass name.” An IPA is placed in front of Linc and he takes a sip before saying, “You know, the more I say the name in my head, the more it grows on me. Dudley. Dudley. Dudley.”

“Okay, you don’t have to keep repeating it,” I say, a palm to my eye, where I rub, trying to ease the sharp pain that’s piercing it.

“What do you have against Dudley? Was he an old bully from high school who got under your skin?”

“No one bullied me in school.”

“Really?” Linc asked looking a little shocked. “I’ve seen pictures of you from high school. You were a skinny shit. Still wondering what scouts were thinking recruiting you.”

“Seemed to work out for them, don’t you think?” I ask, raising my beer to my mouth again.

“You defied all odds.” He chuckles. “If he’s not a bully, who’s Dudley?”

I have two options here: I can either let the Dudley thing stew inside me all night until I lash out at Kinsley for no reason, which I’m sure is very much in my future if I don’t talk about what’s going on in my head, or I can speak the truth and listen to Linc rag on me about Kinsley.

Honestly, both options suck. The one that’s not going to hurt Kinsley is going to annoy me the most, but I’d rather be annoyed than make Kinsley mad at me, so I suck up my pride.

“Kinsley’s on a date.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Linc’s entire face light with absolute pleasure of what I can only assume he considers my suffering—which it is. I’m suffering here from the thought of Kinsley out with the chin poser.

“Is that so?” He turns in his stool and faces me. “Tell me more.”

I knew he wouldn’t make this easy on me.

Pushing my hand through my thick, dark hair, I say, “Don’t know much. His name is Dudley, she thinks he’s hot, they’re on a date, and he is a douche who poses for a picture while holding his chin.”

“I know the exact pose. With his thumb and forefinger?” I nod and Linc laughs. “Total douche. Where did she meet him?”

“Someone set her up.” I fail to mention it was the geriatric neighbor down the hall who’s the matchmaker because honestly, it sounds so unreal, I can barely comprehend it.

Six days. I was gone for six days and it feels like my entire world has been flipped on its side. I was expecting to come home today to my girl, share some food, hang out, maybe cuddle a bit. In other words—be Maddox and Kinny. Not sit at a cold bar with a guy I just spent a few hours on the plane with.

“And from the way you’re gripping that beer bottle, I’m going to guess the guy who said nothing would EVER happen with his fuck-hot best friend is now regretting not making a move before he left on his road trip.”

“Not regretting, just . . . hell, I don’t know, man. I’m not fucking happy, that’s for damn sure.”

“Should we explore the feelings you’re harboring? Because I saw them the minute you made eye contact with Kinsley after our game last week. There was longing in your eyes, but also a sense of complacency, as if you would be happy for the rest of your life if you got to look at her every day.”

“You saw that and still flirted with her? You’re an asshole.”

“Flirting to get a rise out of you.” He sips his beer. “Glad it worked. But seriously, why are you holding back? I’ve known you for a long time, not as long as Kinsley, but long enough to know she’s special to you . . . and not just in a best friend way.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to think she’s special in a whole other way too.”

“Then go for it.”

“It’s not that easy.” I shake my head. “She’s so fucking important to me. If I make a move and she’s not interested, I could fuck over the best thing in my life, my rather unstable and rocky life. She’s been the only constant through all the years. She’s never left my side. She was there to hold my hand after my mom left us. She was there when my dad started abusing alcohol. She was the one cheering me on in the stands when my brother went to college. She was there when I was drafted and then when my dad passed. She was there every fucking second of the days I was back in Woodland.” I glance up at Linc. “She was there, holding me tightly, when Jamie broke my heart. She’s been a part of every milestone in my life that’s carved and shaped me into the person I am today. I can’t jeopardize losing her over some weird feeling that’s in the pit of my stomach.”

Linc grows serious and nods. “But what if it’s so much more and you’re not giving it a chance to become something even more amazing?”

I’m about to answer him when a text message lights up my phone.

Kinsley.

I quickly unlock my phone and read it.

Kinsley: Stood up by a “dud” < - - get it? Where are you? I need some Maddox to make me feel not like a loser.

“Is it her?” Linc asks.

I nod. “She got stood up,” I say in such an angry voice that I surprise myself. “She wants to hang out.”

“Invite her here.”

“I’m not in a good frame of mind.”

“I’m sure, after being stood up, she isn’t either.” Linc nudges me and I hate that he’s right, so I send a text back.

Maddox: At Paddy’s with Linc. Come join us. I’ll order you a drink.

She texts back immediately.

Kinsley: Gah! I love you. See you soon.

I set my phone down and chug the rest of my beer right before ordering another one . . . and a drink for Kinsley.