Page 14 of Sweet Redemption

Before all our friends started looking at us, expecting something to happen that never did.

Hendrix rested his forearms across the top of his surfboard, watching the waves instead of me. Probably a good thing because the idea of leaving in a few days was tempting me to be bold in a way I knew I shouldn’t.

“So . . .” He turned back to me after a minute. “UNC.”

And there it was.

The final nail in the coffin.

I always thought maybe something could happen between us after we graduated.

Maybe we could balance it.

Maybe I’d stay home and go to Kroydon University with him, and we’d be the It couple.

We’d start the rest of our lives together.

We’re taught, as young women, that being part of a power couple is the ultimate accomplishment. The peak to reach for. But back then, being one-half of an It couple wasn’t my goal. It still isn’t. The national team, the Olympics, and the National Women’s Soccer League were.

I chose myself and hoped like hell I wasn’t choosing wrong.

With a heavy heart, I nodded. “Two more days.”

“And Team USA,” he added, pride shining back at me.

“You’ve been paying attention,” I teased softly.

“It’s hard not to when it’s you, Serena.” The words were spoken so easily, like they didn’t form the kind of sentence that made my heart forget how to beat.

A breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and without waiting for permission, Hendrix reached for me. His fingers stopping inches from my cheek. Electricity coursed between us. And for one single second, I thought he might do it.

Brush the hair from my face.

Touch me.

Instead, he let his hand drop down.

Coward . . .

Him and me.

“You’re going to be incredible, Serena.”

“Thanks.” My cheeks flushed, and my chest rose. “You’re going to be . . . okay, I guess,” I teased him, desperate to lighten the tension.

Hendrix could have gone right into the draft that year, but his dad wouldn’t let him. They’d been arguing about it for months. “Who knows? You might even make a semi-pro team one day.” I shrugged a shoulder, going for nonchalant. “I mean, maybe I could put in a word.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, pressing a hand dramatically over his heart. “You’re great for a guy’s ego.”

“I’m sure I did real damage.”

The reality was we were going in two separate directions with the same ultimate goal.

To chase elite dreams.

To be professional athletes.

Goals that require complete dedication.