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He hopes he can convince her to keep him.
But looking at them now, Max and Melody. Well, it makes him ache.
Max is stable. He has a grown-up job, a grown-up house, and grown-up responsibilities. He is only four years older than Nash, but he had to work hard for his life.
Nash will be the first to admit that he was privileged. Mommy and Daddy paid for his athletics and tutoring, which in turn got him a nice scholarship to a nice school where he didn't have to work; he could just focus on school.
But, that doesn't mean that he didn't know hard work. Four a.m. wakeups and training, regimented diet, working out, then studying through the night to keep his grades up. He had to work hard for this scholarship. He had to work hard to make the swim team. But something tells him that being able to study well and swim fast was not high on the list of attractive attributes in finding a lifelong mate.And that is what he wants from Melody: a lifelong companion, a partner.
A sudden wave of sadness hits him. Maybe she should be with someone like Max. She could move back home. She could teach at their old school while Max coaches the swim team. They could live happily ever after with their stable little babies, in a stable little life.
Nah, Fuck that.
He has never been prone to negative thoughts. What is wrong with him? He did not get to where he was by doubting himself and shrinking away from a challenge.
He thrives on challenges.
In fact, he has the upper hand here. A hand that was in Melody’s pussy like ten minutes ago. A hand that made her come undone in a packed movie theater.
Someone pushes him from behind, shoving him hard.
He reels around, ready to snap at the person who dares interrupt his thoughts. His anger and irritation at his situation are really starting to affect his overall outlook on life.
Is this how it will always be? Frustration rising up to the surface at any minor inconvenience?
"Move over, loser," Marisol says, a smile lighting her voice. He should have known it was her. He would have if he hadn't been so… consumed.
"You ready? I think Melody and Max have already left for the restaurant." She takes him in, his body coiled. "Or, we can skip it, and you can go for a swim or something."
He shakes it off. Marisol has never been one to miss his body language cues. She can tell from a mile away if something is up. Extremely perceptive that one.
"Nah, I'll be alright." He says, rolling his stiff shoulder.
"Then why does it look like someone stole your favorite toy?”
He stays quiet, contemplative. That was quite the analogy. "Something like that, but no worries, I am going to take it back."
With purposeful strides, he makes his way through the throng of people exiting the theater, the high he felt early has dissipated, but a new purpose had built in him. He was all about goals, after all. And right now, he needed to stake his claim once and for all.
Maxy boy better learn his place.
Thinking of Max makes him think about Duke? Is he still a part of her life? He didn't think so, but at the rate that he was going, there may be more than one asshole to defeat.
This new challenge and everything with Melody did have one positive benefit. It got him to stop thinking about the email currently sitting unread in his inbox.
It was from the school's Athletic Department. His summer was probably going to end sooner rather than later, and he wasn't sure what was going to happen. The results from his latest MRI were probably back. That's what they were waiting on. Those results are what will determine his future in swimming.
For now, this distraction was necessary. He needed to focus on things he could control, and Melody's attraction to him is something he could control.
She loved his hands on her and in her. He knew that. He could control that. This was something he could work with. He just needed to stay in the game long enough for her to realize that he can satisfy her needs in more ways than one.
"Alright then, that wasn't cryptic or anything." Marisol rolls her eyes at his dramatics. Come along, Theo. Let's get the man back what belongs to him." She and Theo take the lead out the doors of the theater with her arm looped through his. She skips along while he matches her pace effortlessly.
Nash
___________________
Sitting in the backseat, his mood not exactly lending itself to conversation, he pulls out his phone, wanting to text Melody, but he doesn't know what to say.
