Page 64 of Sportsball is for Lovers

“No,” he says firmly. “As long as you communicate about your availability, both emotional and physical, I won’t be scared away by you living your life.”

I swallow.

“There aren’t a lot of things I require in a relationship,” he continues. “Monogamy is the big one. Communication, too. The rest of it? Fuck, I travel for work a lot, too. I could hardly blame you for not wanting to start something with me. I’d be more upset if you were giving up your life and your hobbies to make room for me.”

“You’d be surprised,” I mutter.

Jared scoots toward me, putting his finger under my chin and tipping it up.

“I’m not him,” he says firmly. “Whoever he was, whoever hurt you. I am not him. I won’t do that to you.”

My skin prickles with unease. I try to lower my gaze. His firm grip on my chin keeps my eyes on his.

“I like you exactly as you are,” Jared says. “You’re fun and vibrant and creative. You have ideas. You have this natural magnetism that draws in the people around you. I want to know you. I want to know more.”

“I can barely take care of myself half the time,” I admit. “Your brother has to make sure I eat regularly and drink enough water.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “He calls me his houseplant. Because he constantly checks my numbers and if I’m doing okay.”

I gape at him. “I thought it was just me he doted on.”

“He does it for the people he loves,” he says. “And he loves you.”

Balling up my napkin, I toss it onto the table. “So what does it mean for us that he has to take care of us?”

“It means we have someone who cares for us,” Jared shrugs. “And hell, maybe that’s the missing piece we need in a relationship. Someone outside to take care of things like watering the plants and walking the dog.”

“You want your brother to be the third in our relationship?” I tease.

He chokes. “In a non-sexual way? Yeah.”

My eyes go round.

“He already runs both of our lives. It would probably be easier for him,” he adds. “Saves him the headache.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about a relationship.” I shake my head. “I just agreed to one date.”

Jared grins at me. “It’s important to establish parameters. You have to consent just like if it were a scene.”

“Okay? So what are your limits?”

He pauses. “I don’t think I want to get married.”

“At all?”

“I’m interested in a long-term committed partnership,” he says. “The formality of marriage isn’t important to me. But if my partner insisted, I would.” He takes a breath. “I was engaged before. It ended for a variety of reasons. But I don’t know that I’d want to go through with that again.”

“I don’t know that I’d want to subject a partner to my family,” I admit quietly. “They’re… well, there’s a reason I don’t spend a lot of time with them.”

“That’s the wrong way to look at it,” Jared says. “In a healthy partnership, the family is the people who are in the relationship. Whether it’s a couple or a polycule, the center of gravity shifts. You are a self-sufficient adult. The family of origin doesn’t go away, don’t get me wrong. But the partner should stand beside you and support you, allow you the strength to navigate those relationships on your terms.”

Huffing a laugh, I mutter, “that’s cute,” before I violently break apart a fortune cookie.

Jared’s eyes pin me to my chair. “If that didn’t happen in the past, they weren’t the right partner.”

I bite my lip. “But you are?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m willing to try.”