“Vaughn!” A voice breaks through my reverie, and I turn to see one of my teammates approaching with a wide grin on his face.
“Great job out there, man! You really killed it!”
“Thanks,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Just doing what I can.”
“Are you down to get a drink tonight?” he asks. “You know, to celebrate?”
I pause. Part of me wants to join the revelry to drown out my thoughts of Rachel, but another part knows I need to work things out for myself first.
Trying to sound casual, I say, “I think I’ll take it easy tonight. Just need some time to think.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, and I watch him walk away.
I realize I have a choice to make: I can let this moment define me, allowing myself to be consumed by the public persona I’ve become, or I can acknowledge the emotions I’ve felt and the connection I’ve made with Rachel—and figure out how to move forward from there.
I know I need to call her, at least to tell her she’s still on my mind. The island may have separated us physically, but it brought us back together in a way I cannot ignore. Maybe—just maybe—I can bridge the gap between us.
***
When I move through the motions of training, I feel the weight of Rachel’s absence. The energy has been sucked out of each drill; they are dull and repetitive. Even in the locker room, surrounded by my teammates’ laughter and playful banter, all I can hear is her—her laughter, her spirit, and how effortlessly she navigated the chaos of our life on the island.
I try to push the thoughts out of my head and focus on the drills, on the rhythm of the ball as it meets my foot. Each kick is hollow. I miss the spark Rachel gave to my life. It’s frustrating, and the tension is building inside of me, an undercurrent of longing that just won’t go away.
I make my way into the locker room, the air thick with sweat and the smell of liniment after practice. My teammates are milling around, changing clothes and joking with each other. Collins comes up to me, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Hey, Vaughn,” he says, his expression serious. I can hear something in his tone. “Have you heard from Rachel since she got back to New York?”
At the mention of her name, I feel a pang in my chest. It’s like a knife twisting in my gut. “No,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “I haven’t.”
Concern furrows his forehead. “I’ve been thinking a lot about her. Having been stranded on that island, you know . . . I hope she’s okay.”
I’m jealous, in an unexpected way, that Collins cares about Rachel. Why is that a problem for me? I’m just her boss, and I remind myself I’m nothing to her. I hate the thought of Collins being concerned about her more than I want to let on.
I shrug it off and say, “Yeah, she’ll be fine,” but the words sound hollow. “She’s a tough bird.”
With a raised brow, Collins looks at me but doesn’t press the issue. He shifts gears, and the sound of his voice hints at hesitation. “I was thinking about Rachel. Listen—I know she works for you. I kind of like her, man. Would you mind if I asked her out?”
The question hangs in the air, and I get angry. “What do you mean, ‘like her’?” I’m unable to suppress the edge in my voice, and I ask, “She’s a secretary, you know. She is my secretary.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s a free woman, Vaughn.” Collins shrugs, undeterred. “Plus, we’re friends, and I think we’d get along really well.”
Frustrated, I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “I don’t know, Collins. It’s complicated. You know how it is. She’s been through a lot.”
“Exactly,” he replies, his tone more insistent now. “She could use someone to lean on. I genuinely like her, man. It wouldn’t be for fun.”
I look at him, mulling over his words. Deep down, I know he’s right. Rachel deserves someone who can be there for her, someone who will stand behind her, who will help her whenI can’t because I’m so consumed with my job right now. The thought of Collins asking her out twists the knife a little bit more.
“Fine,” I say reluctantly, trying to sound casual, but the tension in my voice betrays me. “If you think it’s a good idea, go for it. Just be careful. She’s had a rough time.”
A satisfied grin spreads across Collins’s face, and it makes my stomach turn. “Thanks, man! I appreciate it. I’ll talk to her soon.”
I feel the mix of anger, jealousy, and something else I can’t quite place as he walks away. It doesn’t make sense. Why should I care if Collins likes Rachel? I don’t know what I want for myself, let alone for her.
The truth is, though, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing her, even if I don’t know I ever had her. Although the connection we forged on the island did feel real, it’s as though it disappeared into the background of our crowded lives.
I crawl into the showers, turn on the taps, and let the hot water wash me clean of my frustration and confusion. The steam swallows me, but my thoughts drift back to Rachel. She must be wondering what I’m up to. I wonder if she is thinking about me or if she misses me as much as I miss her.
I finish up and decide to get in touch with her again. I can’t change what’s happening between us, but I can at least tell her that I’m here and that I care. I step out of the shower, still wet, with water dripping from my hair as I grab my phone and type her name into my contacts.