Page 52 of Sportsball is for Lovers

His eyebrows crease. “I’m confused.”

Shaking my head, I divert myself. “My meds are a controlled substance. Difficult to remember to fill every month, and when I do remember, half the time the pharmacies are out of stock because people take it recreationally.”

“It’s totally unfair,” Yoni chimes in. “It’s not like it’s optional. You need the meds. It would be like someone restricting insulin because some people use it to get high.”

Jared frowns. “But you don’t take it to get high?”

“I use it to function. I can’t sit in a chair for more than five minutes without fidgeting,” I explain. “With meds, I can sit for an entire hour without getting up from my chair and starting something new. Not a whole day. An hour. That’s all it gets me.”

He shakes his head. “Shit. I never thought of it like that.”

“It’s the same with pain meds. There are legitimate reasons to take narcotic painkillers,” I add. “Some people abuse them. It makes it that much harder for people who actually need them to acquire them.”

“Only about a quarter of people with Type 2 diabetes take insulin,” Jared tells me. “Type 1s are a totally different situation. Despite the pancreas issue, they might as well be two different diseases entirely. But people can’t really take insulin recreationally. They won’t get high. They’ll get dead.”

Yoni flinches. “Maybe we can stop talking about murders and deads?”

“Spoilsport,” I mutter, and Jared grins at me.

Okay. So maybe he’s not that bad.

I can do this. I can help him.

But I’m still not doing this for him. It’s the right thing to do. Yoni needs his brother to get a job. I love Yoni. Thus, I’ll help Yoni’s brother.

Even if his brother happens to be Jared.

It’s as we’re heading back upstairs that Jared grabs my arm and pulls me aside.

“I don’t need your help,” he says harshly.

“I’m not helping you,” I snap back, wrenching my arm free.

“I can do this on my own.”

I scoff.

“I can.” He blows out a breath. “I don’t want this to be misconstrued as asking for something in exchange for sex. We⁠—”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that,” I’m quick to assure him. “I know it doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you really don’t need to⁠—”

“I’m not helping you,” I repeat. “I’m helping Yoni’s brother.”

Jared squints at me. “But I’m Yoni’s brother.”

“Right. But this has nothing to do with you, J. It has everything to do with helping my friend.”

He blinks a few times. “So this isn’t because we hooked up?”

I shake my head. “Get over yourself, babe. You weren’t that good.”

That’s a lie.

And he must be a freaking mind reader, because he smirks. “Is that so?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter. “I’ll call Vanessa.”

Jared sobers. “Sadie, I⁠—”

“But we’re not fucking around again,” I warn him. That’s over and done with. Four times was more than enough.

“Got it,” he says, nodding.

Who am I kidding? Four times, and I still haven’t gotten my fill.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?