Bailey curled up against my chest as we lay in my bed, watching an NHL game. We chatted idly, only half following the game as neither of us was particularly invested in the teams playing. As far as a weekday evening went, it was pretty perfect. Except for one thing: the conversation we needed to have.

The sure to be difficult, guaranteed to be uncomfortable, hopefully not disastrous conversation.

Maybe it was too soon to talk about this, but it would weigh on my conscience until we did. And I refused to do it the night we went out for dinner, potentially fucking up her birthday twice in one year.

The whole situation made me furious. I literally treated one-night stands and casual hookups better than Morrison had treated his own girlfriend. It was wrong on every level.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

BAILEY

Chase picked up the remote, turning down the volume on the TV. “Hey, James?” He shifted to look at me and studied my face, voice low. “How much do you remember from our walk from XS to my place?”

“Not a lot,” I said, shaking my head. “I remember getting sick. Vaguely. That’s about it. Why?”

His brows knit together. “Because you told me something that night, and I don’t think you remember.”

Alarms went off in my head, complete with blaring sirens and flashing red lights. I was certain the gist of this conversation was: he didn’t like me anymore because of it, and now he was ready to end things between us. Already.

Cue maximum panic mode.

I scrambled to sit upright. “You’re bringing this up now? That was ages ago.”

“I held off because it was something personal,” he said. “I didn’t want you to think I was teasing you or being a dick. But with the way things have changed between us, it feels wrong for me to know this when you don’t know that I know.”

My breath snagged, heart pole-vaulting into my throat.

No.

I didn’t. I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have.

“What did I say to you?” I whispered, panic winding up my neck like a vise. “Tell me, please.”

“You told me that Morrison sucked in bed.” Chase paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. Time slowed as I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. “Specifically, that he didn’t go down, and that you faked it with him on the regular.”

Just like that, my dignity evaporated into thin air. Not even my closest friends knew that second one, and I’d told Chase the night I met him? Good lord. And it was infinitely more humiliating given how much more experienced he was than me.

“Okay.” I wriggled out of his embrace, slid out of bed, and stood up. “If you need me, I’ll be at home dying of embarrassment. Tell my parents to get a nice headstone. Gray marble, something like that.”