"That was... wow," she murmurs against my chest.
"Yeah," I agree softly, running a hand through her hair. "Definitely wow."
Lying there, tangled up with Olivia, a realization crashes into me like a freight train. I shouldn’t be here. This... this complicates things. The team, Liam, our dynamic—it’s all hanging by a thread.
I pull back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Olivia,” I start, my voice low and conflicted. “I... I’ve gotta go.”
She blinks up at me, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What? Why?”
I sit up, running a hand through my hair. “We’ve got early morning practice. And I—” I hesitate, not sure how to phrase the mess of thoughts swirling in my head.
“Right,” she says quietly, sitting up too. The sheet slips down her body, but she doesn’t bother pulling it back up. “You should go then.”
The disappointment in her voice hits me hard, but I know staying will only make things worse. I stand up and start gathering my clothes scattered across the room.
“Tonight was... incredible,” I say as I pull on my jeans. “But we’ve got a lot on the line with these playoffs.”
She nods, though she’s avoiding my gaze now. “I get it,” she murmurs. “Hockey first.”
“It’s not just that,” I say quickly, stepping closer to her. “This isn’t about priorities or anything like that. It’s just... complicated.”
Olivia looks up at me then, her green eyes searching mine for something—maybe understanding or reassurance. “Noah," she says softly. “Just go.”
The walk to the door feels like crossing a battlefield. My mind is a war zone of conflicting emotions—guilt, desire, confusion.
“I’m really sorry,” I repeat, feeling like a broken record. "I never wanted to hurt you."
As I reach the door, I turn back one last time. Olivia’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking small and vulnerable in the dim light.
I was just balls deep in that beautiful woman, and I don't have the fucking balls to even tell her goodnight. Fuck me, I'm not that guy.
As I drive home, the silence in the car is deafening. Olivia’s scent still lingers on my clothes, a tantalizing reminder of what just happened. I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road, but my mind keeps drifting back to her.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. My heart is a war zone, torn between what I feel for Olivia and the loyalty I owe to Liam. This isn't just a casual fling—it’s Olivia. And she’s amazing. But she’s also Liam’s... what? Interest? Potential girlfriend? Hell, even he doesn’t know what she is to him.
I pound the steering wheel in frustration. How did I let this happen? One minute we’re joking around, and the next we’re tearing each other’s clothes off like we’re in some damn romance novel.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s a text from Liam in the group chat: "Practice at 7 AM sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late."
Great. Just what I need—a reminder of my responsibilities when all I want to do is sort out this mess.
When I pull into my driveway, the weight of everything hits me like a freight train. I sit there for a moment, engine idling, staring blankly at the dashboard.
How am I going to face Liam tomorrow? And Olivia—what does she even think about all this? About me? Was it just a one-time thing for her? The questions swirl around my head like a storm, each one more relentless than the last.
I kill the engine and step out into the crisp night air. The walk to my front door feels like trudging through quicksand. Inside, the house is dark and empty—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions inside me.
As I collapse onto the couch, exhaustion finally sets in. But sleep doesn’t come easily. My mind replays every moment with Olivia—her laughter, her touch, her kiss—and every thought of Liam—his friendship, his leadership, his claim on her.
What have I done?
“Fuck,” I mutter into the silence.
I close my eyes and let out a long breath, knowing that tomorrow won’t be any easier. The lines between right and wrong have never been so blurred, and navigating them feels impossible.
But for now, all I can do is try to get some sleep and hope that somehow, some way, this mess will sort itself out. Because if it doesn’t... well, let’s not go there just yet.
With one last sigh, I turn off the lights and head to bed, praying that morning brings some kind of clarity—or at least a distraction big enough to keep me from falling apart completely.