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just—he is what he is.”
    I wasn’t sure if Quarry was being serious, or maybe just drunk. After all, Tim was a professional and he held the heavyweight belt. “Well, thanks for the compliment. I appreciate it.”
    Now Quarry leaned in even closer. “You’ve got a responsibility to your own potential,” he growled. “You have to do everything—I mean everything —to bring out the best in yourself. No matter what. No matter what it takes. Just like Lance Armstrong did everything it fucking took to be the best.”
    “Yeah, but he cheated.”
    This made Quarry smile. “He was also the best there ever was in cycling, and I guarantee you he wouldn’t trade those years for anything in this world.”
    “I guess.” My head was starting to spin, a combination of the alcohol and not resting as much as I should have after fighting last night.
    “Now you think about what I said and I’ll see you back at the gym tomorrow.”
    “Okay, see you, Coach.” I walked down the stairs, said goodbye to Z, and left the house and the party behind.
    I took the train home, my brain sluggish from too much alcohol and questions that didn’t have answers. I was unsure of what Quarry had been trying to tell me, if there even was anything behind the nonsense about Lance Armstrong and my potential for greatness.
    And then I kept flashing back to Lindsay, wondering where she was right now, wanting to text her, talk to her, something.
    I was able to resist the urge, but it was very difficult.
    Once home, the apartment was too quiet. Wyatt must have gone to bed and Gilbert hadn’t come back, so it was empty and silent, and turning on the TV for company didn’t help.
    Pouring myself a large glass of water, I washed it down with a couple of aspirin and then climbed into bed, closed my eyes, and tried to let my body relax so I could fall into a much needed sleep.
    But sleep just wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned, listening to the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, staring up at the ceiling. I sighed loudly, frustrated. I’d never had a problem falling asleep. In fact, I was kind of known as a guy who could sleep anywhere, and I’d often be out before my head even hit the pillow.
    Being drunk and tired and beaten up, I knew I should’ve been more than ready to drift off. Except that I couldn’t let go. Something was in the way, something was stopping me.
    You know what it is, my mind said. You know why you can’t sleep.
    Lindsay’s face flashed through my memory. And then I started remembering the way it felt when we were in the shower together, the way I could see so much when the water made her panties and bra cling tightly to her body. I could see everything.
    Now I was hard. I was harder than I’d ever been in my damn life and all I wanted to do was fall asleep.
    It was so frustrating that I nearly screamed.
    Maybe you need to just spank one out, I thought. But no. No. If I did that right now, I’d be thinking about Lindsay. I’d be fantasizing about her.
    Aren’t you already?
    I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to go blank, but all that happened was I conjured up an image of her incredibly sexy ass in those soaking wet panties.
    “Fuck this,” I swore, sitting bolt upright in my bed. “Fuck this.”
    The bottom line was I just needed Lindsay to come back and sleep with me tonight. I needed her with me, in my bed. I wouldn’t touch her, but I had to have her close one more time.
    ***
    A little while later, I was standing outside her dorm, debating whether or not I should go in unannounced.
    You could text her.
    No, she would just ignore me. Texting, phone calls, they wouldn’t work for this kind of situation. This demanded an in-person appearance. This demanded face-to-face communication for sure.
    I’d pissed her off and hurt her feelings. She was mad as hell.
    Now I wanted her to come and spend the night at my apartment.
    I needed to explain. Of course, I knew at some level there was no good explanation for any of