Page 81 of Loving the Legend
I don’t know why I ignored him every time he said it. Maybe it’s a sign I should probably work on the whole not trusting people thing.
“For the record,” he continues, “this isn’t casual for me. I might not have been clear last night. It’s not casual for me when I experience this kind of connection with someone. I’ve only ever had that once, but it’s not because I didn’t want it.”
“What are you saying, exactly?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my chest.
“Damn, you’re stubborn…I’m saying I want you to myself.”
My jaw hangs open. “Want how?”
“Like me and you, committed.”
His words hit like a dust storm, completely blinding me.
“Commit how? Like exclusively hook up?”
“Not just hook up, all of it, and yes, exclusively,” he says with so much conviction, it unsettles me. “I don’t share.”
“How?” I scoff. “You’re like the most famous athlete on the planet right now. If we came out, our careers would be a sideshow.”
I can see my name plastered in headlines any time he’s mentioned. I’ve never wanted his fame. It’s surprising he can even fuck in private, considering the way the media rides his dick. They obsess over everyone he dates and they’d pry into my life too. Every time we’d face off, idiots would question the legitimacy of the win or loss. They’d insinuate that we threw the game for each other. It’d be harder than ever to keep my head down and focus on chasing rings. I’d lose focus and maybe even my place in the league. My parents’ deaths would have been in vain.
Holy fuck!
I can’t—we can’t do this.
And how the fuck is he so confident about me? He can have anyone. The thought of him being with anyone else…seeing him with Katrina was a sledgehammer to my stomach. If we were to do this, it would be terrifying how much our relationship would consume me. I can’t choose him over my career. I have to see things through for my parents. Even if…fuck. I rub the sharp ache in my chest. Even if it means passing up the opportunity to be with the first person I’ve fallen in love with.
Christ!
How’d I allow myself to be so stupid? I can’t be in love. It’d ruin everything I need to do. I need to grind and be selfish.
I clasp my stomach to keep it from collapsing. The more I try to breathe, the more air seeps out. I clasp a hand over my strangled sternum and turn away from him, trying to stave off the alarm I’m choking.
“W-what’s happening?”
I bend forward, gasping for air. My palms clam up as sweat trickles down my back.
“Breathe, baby! Can you speak?” His voice trembles as he bolts to kneel in front of me. I wheeze as I shake my head.
“Should I call an ambulance?” He reaches for his phone. The idea of an ambulance showing up deepens my panic. I lurch forward, knocking his phone out of his hand, and shake my head again.
“Okay. No ambulance. Breathe. Just like this.” He sucks in a breath and exhales slowly.
I can’t. There’s no air.
I clench my eyes shut and dig the heel of my palm into my sternum, trying to unknot the tightness.
I hear Adam’s voice though the memory is hazy. Was it five things you can see or five things you can feel? I take a guess, un-peeling my eyes and searching the room for five things I can see: Sid, books, fuck… the room starts to spin.
I clench my eyes shut, but the room spins in the darkness, so I open them again.
…duffel bags, bulb, door.
Sid says something, but it’s drowned out as I search for four things I can feel. I touch my chest and the wall, kneel, and then the hardwood floor and the rug. As I inhale the scent of Sid’s cologne, a streak of air pierces through the tightness in my chest. I draw another breath, focusing on his scent, then another, until my chest expands with air. I tilt back until I’m sitting on the floor and bury my head in my hands. My skin is slick with sweat.
“Baby…” He kneels in front of me. “Was that a panic attack?” His voice is gentle and thick with worry. I’m mortified he’s seeing me like this. I stare at the spot on the floor where my tears have pooled. I nod, keeping my gaze pointed to the floor.
“Do they happen often?”
