The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(80)

“And now I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Where could be more important than here?” Someone grabbed him and steered him away.

“We did it!” LJ jumped onto my back, nearly knocking me over. Coach glared at him before stalking off.

I let the celebration drag me toward the locker room. Rushing inside, I bolted for my locker. The place was chaos. Half the team was inside, losing their minds. Pads, jerseys, towels, equipment, and every person imaginable was crammed into the small space filled with overly large people.

My name was called out from every direction, but I was determined. No time for a shower. I kicked off my cleats and opened my locker. Fuck. My shoes were gone. It didn’t matter. Pulling open the locker next to mine, I glanced down at the gray monstrosities sitting in there.

As I yanked my shirt over my head, it clung to the sweat on my body. Screw it. Grabbing my jeans, I jumped into them, dove for Berk’s shoes, and tugged them on. Buttoning my jeans, I held my keys between my teeth and pushed my way out through the crowd.

Bursting out of the locker room, I elbowed my way through the reporters, teammates, fans, and anyone else in my way. I wrapped my hands around the long metal bar running across the steel door at the end of the hallway and threw it open. A blast of wind so cold my teeth ached hit me the second I stepped outside. My feet slipped and slid in Berk’s shitty shoes.

Yanking open the door to my car, I revved the engine and threw it into reverse. The traffic on the road conspired against me on the way to her apartment.





32





Seph





I welcomed the numbness, preferred it to the raw, sawing, can’t-think-straight pain detonating in my chest. Reece had walked away—hell, he hadn’t walked, he’d run away the second I’d brought up something even jokingly close to a future. That had been my answer, so why was I in this taxi? Why was I subjecting myself to this torture?

“They’ll want you to start your coursework over the summer, formalities for beginning the PhD program.” My dad’s voice droned on out of the speaker of my phone.

The back of the taxi was even colder than outside.

Leaning my head against the headrest, I stared out the window, the clear blue sky stretching on forever above me. How could the rest of the world go on like nothing had happened? I’d been waking up with the air trapped in my lungs, clawing at the sheets as I tried to suck in another breath.

This call made me want to jump from the taxi, leave my phone behind, disappear into the city, and become someone else, someone who didn’t know what it was like to feel his caress and sweet whispers.

It was so much harder trying to keep myself together after closing the door on Reece. It was like closing the door on the possibility of a future unlike any I could have imagined for myself.





*



When I showed up at the will call office and gave them my name, I figured there wouldn’t be a ticket there for me and I could take solace in the fact that I’d tried to keep my promise, but the woman had asked to see my ID through the crackly speaker. I slipped it into the little well at the bottom of the glass and she slid it back to me with a single ticket.

Fans crowded around the stadium entrance and I found my way to my seat, right behind the Trojan’s bench, a few rows from the bottom. The team ran out onto the field and everyone was on their feet. I used their standing bodies to shield me in case he saw, but he was focused on the game, giving it his all like he did for everything. It was my first time watching him on the field. I’d followed the games online with the text stats before, but I’d never sat down to see him play in person. It was bittersweet, so much of his work out there for everyone to see.

By the last quarter, I cheered along with the rest of the fans in the stands. I jumped up and down as the kinetic energy of the roofless building exploded with joy when the ball bounced twice in Reece’s hands before he clamped it against his chest. The next pass, Nix looked poised to throw it to him again, but instead he threw it to number 52, Keyton in block letters across the player’s back. That catch was clean, without a bounce, and as he crossed the line into the end zone, the place exploded, the noise so loud I was tempted to cover my ears, fearing I’d suffer actual hearing loss. The joy was overwhelming. I’d never been in a sea of people so focused on one goal together.

Sitting in my seat, I watched Reece pile on top of Keyton and scooted along the row until I hit the aisle. He’d played better than anyone else on the field. I had no idea about the rules, but he’d given everything to the game. It was no wonder he’d choose it over me.

Riding back to my apartment in the taxi, I blinked back tears. For a second I had thought he’d seen me, but then he’d gone right back to celebrating with the rest of the team. He’d place well in the draft with a championship and a touchdown in the winning game next to his name.

The apartment was quiet. Walking into my room, I spotted the shiny, silver latches under my bed. I grabbed the case and flipped it open. The same case I hadn’t touched in weeks.

I picked up my violin now that I could feel my fingers again. That was one thing stadiums didn’t have: great heating. Even packed in amongst thousands of screaming fans, the cold from the night sliced through my coat and gloves, or maybe it was a cold that didn’t come from the elements but rather from no longer being in his embrace.