IT’S SO good to have her sitting close to me. Smelling her familiar heady scent. Staring at her beautiful face. She looks great. Bright-eyed and smiling. Not being too hard on me, when we both know I deserve it.
I’m walking on fragile ground here and I don’t want to piss her off. She doesn’t know what I’ve been up to the past month. How hard I’ve worked. On school, on myself. Both physically and mentally. I wish I could tell her. I want to.
Will she listen to me? Or did my time finally run out?
It’s been a month. Pretty sure time’s up.
The four of us keep up easy conversation as we polish off the pizza, Knox doing most of the demolishing while I hold my own. I’ve been eating better these last four weeks after connecting with a nutritionist our offensive line coach hooked me up with. I’ve been working out more too. Joanna made some crack about me never being around before Blair showed up, and I know they’re thinking I’m going out all the time. Getting drunk and getting laid.
Not even close. I’ve been going to the gym. Going to the library to get my homework done or some extra studying in. After this semester, I only have one left to go and then I graduate. I want to leave school on top in all the ways I can.
Including academically.
After spiraling into a dark pit of despair after that blowup with Blair in her car, I realized I had to do some real soul searching. My mood was affecting everyone on the team, and Coach eventually pulled me aside after one particular brutal practice, telling me I needed to get my shit together.
I broke down. Hell, I cried. It was bad. But my coach gave me zero shit for it. He was his usual stern self, but I saw compassion in his gaze as he told me that maybe I should look into working on my mental health.
“This is as much a physical game as a mental one,” he’d told me as I wiped away my tears. “And you gotta get your mental game stronger, son. I think you might need some help.”
I did. I still do, though I’m working on myself. After I left his office, Coach sent me some mental wellness info and told me to look into it.
I’ve now been going to a therapist twice a week. Our campus offers free mental health services, and after so many years of suffering with horrible self-worth and believing I’m not good enough for anyone, I already am feeling better. And I’ve only met with Betty, my therapist, a handful of times.
It feels good, talking to someone I don’t know. Who will listen without judgment and ask me those tough questions. I told her about my parents. My worries about my future.
About Blair.
Only a little bit of Blair. She’s not the problem in my life.
I am.
A month probably isn’t long enough to heal myself, but it’s a start, and I wish I could just declare to Knox right now that I’m in love with his sister, but he’d probably cause a scene.
And Blair would call bullshit because we haven’t talked since that night. The night she was so fucking harsh toward me, and I deserved everything she said. Her belief in herself is inspiring. If I had half of her self-confidence, I’d be unstoppable.
“Should we get another pitcher?” Knox asks me after he’s had his fifth slice of pizza.
I shake my head. “I’m done. I just want water.”
“I notice you’re not drinking as much,” my friend says, his expression turning serious. “You laying off it on purpose?”
Blair is quiet and I can tell she’s waiting to hear my answer.
“I’m not drinking near as much, yeah. My dad is an alcoholic. I don’t want that happening to me,” I say, just laying it all out there.
“He is?” Knox frowns. “You’ve never told me that.”
“It’s hard to admit.” I send Blair a quick look to find she’s watching me, her gaze soft. “I don’t know why. It’s not my problem. It’s his.”
“At least you’re self-aware,” Joanna says with an encouraging smile.
“I’m proud of you,” Blair murmurs, and my heart feels lighter at hearing her words.
That’s what I wanted to hear. What I needed.
Blair’s approval.
We hang out for a while, Knox finishing off the rest of the beer and the last skinny slice of pizza, and when he and Joanna share a sly glance, I know they’re going to bail on us.
“We’re gonna get out of here. But that doesn’t mean you kids need to run off.” Knox slides out of the booth, Joanna following him. “I’m glad you met up with us, Blair. You need to do it more often.”
“Thanks for including me,” Blair says, smiling at Knox and Jo. “Let’s hang out again soon.”
They say their goodbyes, and the moment they’re gone, I turn to her. “You want to leave, I get it. I should go too.”
Blair frowns. “Where are you going?”
“To the gym.” My bag is always in my car, ready at any moment to go and work out for an hour. Or two. “I’ve been working out almost every night.”
“Even after practice?”
“Yeah. Sometimes before, too. I need to be in top playing form, you know?”
She smiles. It’s faint, but it’s there and seeing it gives me way too much hope. “Did my dad tell you that?”
“He did.” I nod. “I’ve been working on…a lot.”
“Like what?”
I study her face, noting the genuine curiosity there. No hostility in her gaze either, which is a positive sign. “Eating better. Getting more sleep. And like I said, working out. Increasing my stamina. I’ve been running too. Waking up earlier than usual to get a couple of miles in before class.”
“Wow. Sounds like you’re working on yourself.”
“I am. Plus I’ve been focused on my classes. Getting all that handled between games can be a lot, especially with finals coming up.” While I’ve missed her, not having her around as a complete distraction has helped.
More like I’m working on all of this for her. To be better. For myself. For her.
For us.
“School has been rough the last couple of weeks,” she agrees, her gaze staying on my face. “It sounds like you’re doing well, Cam. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I duck my head, feeling…what? Shy? Bashful? That’s some bullshit. I’ve been more open with this woman than anyone else I know. She knows everything. All the bad. Hopefully all the good too. “After everything that happened that night between us, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
“What you said and how it made me feel.” I let myself look my fill of her, taking note of her every little feature. The shape of her eyes, the delicate brows above them. The gentle slope of her nose. The angle of her cheekbones and those pretty pink lips I still fantasize about kissing.
I’d kiss her right now if she’d let me.
“I said some—harsh things.” She winces.
“It was all the truth,” I remind her. “I deserved to hear all of it.”
“I’m glad you’re focusing on yourself.” She grips the edge of the table, like she’s going to slide out of the booth and leave, and panic claws at my throat, making me want to reach out and stop her. “Like I said earlier. I’m proud of you. I mean it.”
I don’t want her to go. I haven’t even told her I’m going to therapy yet. That I’m working on myself in all ways, not just football. That I’m doing this not just for myself.
But for her too.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I take a deep breath, panic filling me when she pushes her way out of the booth, just like I feared.
“I should go. It’s been nice catching up with you, Cam.” Her smile is sad, and her eyes are too.
Fuck.
“Can I ask you one more question before you go?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Sure.”
“Is the clock still ticking? Or is my time up?”
