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“I don’t have time for that. Getting cold feet or whatever. I can’t let that happen.”
“You’re a human being, not a machine. Everybody goes through growing pains. Everybody deals with self-doubt.”
“Not me.”
“Then congratulations, because you would be the first person living to never experience self-doubt.” She leans a little closer to her screen, but of course, that’s not close enough. Until she’s by my side, it’ll never be close enough. “Do yourself a favor and get out of your own way. That’s the only way you can get through this, and I know you can do it. I’ve seen what you’re capable of – whether you want to admit that right now or not. I understand why you don’t. You’re feeling down on yourself. Remember why you play the game in the first place. You’re good at it, and it’s fun. It can still be fun. Maybe you have to allow it to be, you know? You don’t have to take this so deadly serious. If you’re up in your head all the time, you’ll never be able to get into your flow – and that’s where you thrive.”
The more she talks, the more sure I am that being up in my head isn’t my only problem. No doubt it’s one problem, sure. I wouldn’t be the first athlete to fuck up because they can’t stop overthinking their game.
There’s another, much bigger issue that I’m only now starting to wake up to.
I just want to be with her.
And I’m starting to wonder if I might be sabotaging myself so I can get back home.
10
ASH
“Hey.”
It’s not what the girl says, but the way she says it that tells me this isn’t the first time she’s tried to get my attention. It’s not easy getting somebody’s attention in a loud club like this, with so much noise and loud music and overlapping voices.
But that’s not the problem, and I know it. I know it even as I stare down at her and wonder why I ever used to like coming out to places like this. It’s like I was a different person, and not very long ago, either.
She offers a cute smile. “Why are you standing here all alone?” She nods toward the dance floor, where a certain hockey player I’m best friends with is dancing with a redhead who keeps grinding her ass against him. “I thought you came in with him.”
“I did.”
“And I thought her friend tried to get you to dance.”
I tip my head to the side, studying the petite blonde. “Are you stalking me?”
Her cheeks flush before she laughs. “No, just curious. You sort of caught my attention. But you’re not like all the other guys in here, that’s why I couldn’t stop watching you.”
Not like the other guys. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before. “How do you mean?”
Something tells me she’s not in this for a deep conversation, but she answers easily enough. “You’re not prowling around the room, seeing if you can score with any of the girls. You’re not hitting on anything with two legs and boobs.”
I like her. She’s smart, and she’s honest. That’s kind of refreshing after having women practically crawling on me every time we go out after a game.
Jesus. Since when is that a problem? I’m turning into a bitter old man way before my time.
“I guess I’m just not into it,” I tell her with a shrug. I mean, what’s the alternative? Pouring my heart out? I doubt she’s in the mood to hear my petty problems. Like how much I miss Harlow, the woman who’s not my girlfriend, but is much more than an acquaintance or even a casual hook up. We never did decide what to call ourselves, did we? If she’s our girlfriend, are we her boyfriends? No, if anything, our relationship feels too special to use some random, safe words to describe it.
“That’s a shame. I was going to ask you if you want to dance.” She looks down at my feet, then back up at me. “You haven’t stopped tapping your foot.”
“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out a little.” But I’m laughing for the first time all night, which has to be a good thing. I have been wanting to dance — not like it’s one of my favorite pastimes or anything, but the music is good. It’s only that I wish Harlow were here to dance with. I doubt you could pull me off the floor if she were here and wanted to get out there and shake her ass.
“Okay, let’s go.” I follow her onto the floor and make it a point to catch Soren’s eye. The wry smirk he wears leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I brush it off. He doesn’t mean anything by it, no matter how much it looks like he’s sort of gloating. I can almost read his mind. I thought you weren’t into it.
I’m not, that’s the thing. Being here makes me feel like I’m cheating. Harlow is home, waiting for us. What does it make us if we’re out flirting with other women, buying them drinks, dancing with them? He can say it’s innocent all he wants – and it could be, it really could. But intent matters, too. The feeling like we’re bending the rules by doing this. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into coming to the club, but then I didn’t like the idea of him going out alone, either. I hate feeling like I have to keep an eye on him, but that’s exactly what went through my head when he said I didn’t have to come with him.
The blonde is cute, and she’s a good dancer. It’s a shame she’s not dancing with a man who wants to be with her. I try to put on a good show though, but it’s awkward, trying to keep space between our bodies. I made a promise. I haven’t always kept my promises in the past, but this time I want to. It’s important.
That’s what’s going through my head as I glance across the floor, finding Soren and his redhead in the crowd. She’s turned around to face him now, and if she were any closer, she’d be wearing his clothes. She has one hand on his chest and the other around the back of his neck while his hand wanders dangerously close to her ass. She pulls down and he goes along with her, until their noses touch.
It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going to happen next.
