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I don’t want to worry that at any moment he could stop calling me. I don’t want to be too scared to tell him I’m coming to his game. I don’t want to wonder what we mean to each other.
“You think you’re a distraction?” he asks.
If I weren’t a distraction, wouldn’t we be fully together? “I miss you. I always miss you. I wanted to see you, even if just from afar.”
His eyes widen. “I miss you, too. I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other. It’s just…things are crazy right now.”
“I know. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have come.”
“No. I—” He looks conflicted.
What am I doing here? Why did I come?
“Why didn’t we break up?” The words burst out of me. “On Valentine’s Day, you said we had a month. But then you left, and you kept calling, and we kept talking. And now it’s been months. I don’t know what any of it means. I want more. I want commitment.”
I take a ragged breath. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.
“Commitment?”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was coming. Your family is here. Cam is here. I want you to want me here, too.”
“I do want you here.”
A humorless laugh slips from my mouth. “You don’t. If you did, you would have invited me.” I thought seeing him would be enough, but it isn’t. Not even close. It’s heartbreaking to realize that I want everything with him, and he can’t offer anything more than he already has. It isn’t his fault. He’s always been clear about his priorities.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” His voice sounds panicked. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Am I? Oh my goodness…I think I am. My hands feel clammy.
“Are we even together?” I whisper.
“Of course we are. I call you every day. Other than football, you’re the only thing I think about.”
“But I don’t call you.” I swipe angrily at the tears that are forming. “I’m so scared that I’ll distract you that I can’t even tell you I’m coming to your game. I’m so desperate to see you that I tag along with Kelsey and Cam, and then I watch you from a distance. Your family—except for Celeste—doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t want to wait to see you until your season is over. I don’t want to wait for you to call me. I want more.”
“Elle.” He steps toward me. “I’m sorry.”
I stumble back. He can’t touch me. I’ll break. I’ll shatter. “I know you are. This isn’t your fault. I let things go too far. The game was great. You were amazing. Your hard work and dedication is paying off. I’m so happy for you, but this thing between us—it isn’t enough.”
I’m not being fair. I haven’t hinted—not even once—that I wanted to see him. Nor have I given him any indication that I was unhappy waiting for him to call every night.
The crazy thing is, I wasn’t unhappy about the phone calls themselves. Talking to him is the best part of my day.
It’s the rest that makes me unhappy. I’ve already spent over half my life feeling like I’m not enough. I wasn’t enough for my father to stay. I wasn’t enough for my mother to let go of her anger. Things with my parents are getting better, but that only serves to highlight how limited my relationship with Slater is.
I hate feeling uncertain of what I mean to him.
I hate that I haven’t felt like I could tell him what he means to me.
He reaches for me again and I shake my head. “I can’t.”
He seems to understand what I’m not saying, because he asks, “You want me to go?”
I nod miserably and cover my face with my hands.
When the door clicks shut, I fall back on the bed. Dinner is forgotten. All I can think about is the look on his face after I told him.
