Page 23 of Want You

“Are you not sleeping because of the hockey player?” Amanda whispered when they headed down to the lobby for their usual afternoon coffee.

Octavia shook her head. “In part, I guess.”

“He’s not even here, aren’t they in⁠—”

“New Jersey tonight,” she said, stopping at the end of the coffee line. “Knowing that is what’s keeping me up. The fact that I care, that I want to watch, that I’ve got my phone charged for when he calls…the fact that it’s starting to feel like—” she stopped herself from saying it out loud. Starting to feel like more than sex, all because of sex. “Fuck,” she muttered, earning a glare from a woman who absolutely just came from a divorce meeting.

“A relationship? Like maybe you care about him a little bit?” Amanda asked at a volume that was totally unacceptable for this kind of conversation.

Octavia didn’t respond, she just stared at a crack in the floor, six tiles away. Forcing herself to wonder how it got there and when it happened. She’d never appreciated the floor in here so fucking much.

“Ignoring me won’t change anything. It’s not going to make any of this less true. Seriously, if this is about the guy who stood you up, you need to get over that.”

Octavia’s head snapped up. “It doesn’t make sense. He wasn’t that kind of guy. There were no promises or inappropriate images. He…I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know deep down that he wouldn’t have just not shown up.”

“How many times have you reread your messages?”

Every night before bed, she thought. It was like she was doing penance or something. Punishing herself for moving on in one way, shape, or form.

“I’ll take your silence as, too many fucking times.” She huffed. “Want to know what I think?” Amanda asked after they’d ordered.

“Not really,” Octavia admitted. “But I doubt that matters.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. I think⁠—”

“Octavia?” the barista called out, interrupting Amanda.

“Thank you,” Octavia said to him, grabbing her cup and turning to the exit. “I’ll see you later.”

“Vee!” Amanda called after her as she walked to the elevator bank.

Octavia had never been happier that her friend always ordered something overly complicated.

That night, Octavia didn’t turn the TV on. She turned off her phone and kept her laptop closed. She lay in bed, hands fisted on the outside of her duvet, trying to quiet her brain. But now she felt bad for starting to move away from Blaze and for not answering Nathan’s inevitable call.

At 3:00 a.m., after hours of trying to stop the noise, she got up, trudged downstairs, and turned her phone on, expecting to see a missed call. Nothing. Not a single notification. That’s good, she thought. He’s probably out with the team. Maybe he decided he did want to meet someone. Cool, that’s what she expected. Except she didn’t feel good about it. She felt very similar to how she’d felt the night Blaze hadn’t shown up.

She looked up the results of his game. A win, a big win.

“Jesus,” she muttered, seeing the seven to two score. He was on the score sheet with two goals, including the game winner. She clicked on the first article.

New Spark to Albertson’s Game.

She sat at the kitchen table and read, something like pride blooming in her chest as she read all the flowery, complimentary words about Nathan. She could see him standing there in the locker room, answering the reporters’ questions, his teeth missing, his cocky smile pulled up to the left.

Did he change his diet? Sort of, but he’s actually eating out more, so he wasn’t sure if that had an impact. What was he eating exactly? He’d rather not say, in order to protect the restaurant.

Had his sleep changed? He was sleeping better for sure. Deeper, full body sleeps.

He was well known for listening to music before a game, anything new? Not really. He was listening to stuff with a bit more screaming.

Octavia read into the subtext of each answer. There was no way he was implying she had anything to do with the fact he was playing better. She spent five seconds feeling flattered before she realized it meant he was using her. So what? Aren’t you using him? Why would it matter if it’s just sex?

She threw her head back and groaned. Fuck Blaze for bailing and Nathan for stepping in. Fuck their arrangement and how good he made her feel. Fuck Amanda’s questions. Just fuck everything.

Her phone lit up on the night table as she was finally settling back into bed.

Nathan