“As in, I don’t sleep with guys until we’ve been on five dates.” I cringe a bit. There’s really no good way to tell someone that you’re not down for having sex but you’d like to keep kissing them and maybe rubbing up against them. “It’s just, I’ve done the whole first night hookup, and it’s not for me.”

“Okay. That’s it?”

I nod and smile, thankful to have that out in the open. “I would love to go inside and keep hanging out. Really, tonight has been amazing and I don’t want it to end.”

“Okay, yeah, cool.” He swims to the side and pulls himself up and then holds out a hand to help me.

Later I will replay this scene over and over in my head and think of all the different ways I could and should have worded this conversation. Hindsight is a real bitch.

Tanner and I go in and dry off. I change back into my own clothes and find him splayed out on his bed with his phone in hand. He’s in shorts that are low on his hips and a faded basketball T-shirt. When I walk in, he looks up and smiles.

“Ready to show me your skills again?” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. I’m trying to figure out what he means when he adds, “Datson finally relinquished the Xbox, so it’s all ours.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

He grins and blows by me, flipping the light on the way out. He grabs two beers from the fridge and then we settle into the living room. The house is quiet, and we’re the only ones downstairs but we still sit side by side on the couch.

“All right, let’s see what you got.”

“You know what I got,” I taunt. “Do you not remember the last beating I gave you?”

He grunts a response.

For the next two hours, I use more concentration and focus than I have since the time Emily and I challenged some of our teammates to a Just Dance tournament in our dorm room.

I came out on top that night and somehow I do again.

Tanner groans. “Man! I really thought I could beat you this time.”

“Because I’m a girl?”

“No, because you said you’ve never played before.” He glances down at my legs. It’s the first time since we got out of the pool that he’s given any indication that I’m someone he’s into. Maybe he’s not anymore. “I blame your legs.”

“My legs?” I chuckle.

He leans back, resting the controller on his thigh. “They were distracting.”

“Maybe your legs were distracting me.”

We both look to his hairy legs and laugh. Although they are nice—strong and muscular.

“Again?” he asks, nodding to the TV.

“I think I’ll stop while I’m ahead.”