Page 86 of Risky Pucking Play
"What does your gut tell you?" Reese asks after he’s gone.
"That he's telling the truth. I don't think he's seeing anyone else." I play with my straw wrapper, folding it into smaller and smaller squares. "But that's not the only issue."
"Fuck… what else happened?"
"Even if this photo was fake news, what about the next one? Because you know there’s going to be another one. Many more, I’m guessing." I lean back against the booth. "Dating Nate means signing up for public scrutiny I don’t want. It means my personal life becoming tabloid fodder."
She tilts her head. "Is that really what's bothering you, or is it something else?"
"What do you mean?"
She gives me a knowing look. "Are you actually more worried about what your dad is going to think about all of this?"
The observation hits home harder than I want to admit. "That's not it."
"Isn't it though?" She softens her voice. "El, you've been trying to live up to your dad's expectations your entire life. You literally became a sports psychologist because he suggested it."
"I love what I do," I protest.
"I know you do. But that doesn't change the fact that his voice has always been the loudest in your head." She leans forward. "What does he think about Nate?"
I fiddle with my napkin. "He's... cautiously accepting. He admitted Nate seems different lately, more focused. He even said my mom would have liked him."
Her eyes widen. "Wow. That's huge coming from your dad."
"I know." I smile faintly. "But he also made me promise that if Nate reverts to his old ways, I'll walk away. No second chances."
"And you're worried this photo thing is the beginning of that?" Reese asks.
"No. I mean, not if it's really old." I sigh in frustration. "I don't know what I'm worried about anymore. That's the problem."
Our pizza arrives, steam rising from its deep-dish perfection. Neither of us moves to take a slice.
"Let me ask you something," Reese says, folding her arms on the table. "What do you want? Not what your dad wants, not what's sensible or safe. What doyouwant?"
I stare at the pizza, watching the cheese slowly settle. "I want..." The words stick in my throat.
"Yes?"
"I want Nate." The admission feels both terrifying and freeing. "I want to be with him. I want to see if what we have is real. I want to stop second-guessing everything because I'm afraid of getting hurt."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
I pick up a slice with mushrooms and put it on my plate. "Because it's scary, Reesey. What if I'm wrong about him? What if this whole changed-man thing is temporary? What if I give him my heart and he shatters it?"
"What if he doesn't?" she counters. "What if this is the real thing, and you miss out on it because you're too afraid to reach for it?"
I take a bite of pizza to avoid answering, but Reese just waits, patient as always when she knows I'm processing.
"It's not just my dad's voice in my head," I admit finally. "It's my own insecurities too. Why would someone like Nate—who could have literally anyone—want to be with me?"
She rolls her eyes. "Are you kidding me right now? You're brilliant, gorgeous, successful, and you actually understand his world. You're not some puck bunny who's after his money or fame."
"But those women are usually stunning."
"So are you. And you're the whole package, not just a pretty face." She takes a bite of her pizza. "Besides, have you considered that maybe that's exactly why he wants you? Because you're not impressed by the Nate Barnes one-man show?"
I hadn't thought of it that way. "Maybe."
