Page 157 of Steeling Her
Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night because he’s anxious about the game and wants someone to talk to?
Seeing the coffee shop in my sight, I pick up my pace to see if Nick’s here yet. I can see him sitting in the window, staring down at his cup in a complete daze. He’s twirling it around in his hand as he watches unknowingly at the foam dancing. His large athletic body is hunched over the table in deep thought about something.
Nick doesn’t notice me until he hears the bells chime upon my entrance. His eyes flick up, and he smiles softly at me. I return it and make my way over to the table where he is sitting alone. He doesn’t let me sit down without a huge hug and a peck.
“Hey,” I beam up at him and he tucks the loose piece of hair that fell from my bun behind my ear. Staring at me like he’s amazed by me.
“Hey.” He lifts the left side of his mouth as a small smile. Cupping my cheeks in his hands, he stares at me for a little while longer, right into my eyes with those hunter-green eyes. “I ordered you an iced coffee with cookies and cream. I know you don’t want a hot chocolate right now, with the weather outside.” He brushes his thumbs across my cheeks. I lean more into it, adoring the simple, yet affectionate light caress.
“Thank you.” I kiss him in his warm and soft lips.
“It’s no problem.” He gestures for me to sit opposite him. We both take our seats in the booth. I make myself comfy and place my bag beside me.
“So, what did you want to talk about with me?” I ask as I take a sip of my iced coffee, moaning at the taste of cookies and cream. This is amazing. This might be my new drink for the summer months and the exam period. I know I’ll need all the caffeine I can get for that time of the year.
“Um . . .” he begins, drawing my attention back to him. His hands start to fidget again, like when I first saw him. It’s a sign he’s nervous about something. I can tell by the expression on his face too. Something is bothering him inside, and it’s starting to make me feel a little nervous.
He takes a strong gulp of the black coffee he bought for himself and looks around the café, anywhere but me. There’s definitely something he’s not telling me. He looks like he wants to avoid it too.
I can feel my own heart thumping away by itself in anticipation as to what it could be.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him softly. I try to reach for his hand to take in mine. When I slip it in between his interlocked hands, he finally looks at me. He looks as white as a ghost. That’s very uncommon in Mississipi. Majority of the people are tanned here, especially him because he runs around with his shirt off all the time during practice. Most players do when they train. But in this heat right now, I don’t blame them.
“Um, yeah . . . Actually, no.” He shakes his head, disoriented with himself. He’s going back and forth. “I need to talk to you about something.” I smile and nod, waiting patiently for him to begin his train of thought that has him like this. It must be serious.
“You’ve already said that.” I chuckle a little, but he doesn’t. He remains nervous. His jaw clenches and unclenches while he watches me.
“I spoke to Coach yesterday,” he begins lowly.
“Oh yeah? How’d that go?” I wonder, sipping my drink with my free hand because my other is clasped with his.
“Not good . . . My dad was there too,” he explains, and I swallow my contents slowly and suspiciously. I know his dad puts a lot of pressure on him to win games and be the best he can be. That’s a lot of weight on his shoulders. I know he cares for Nick and his career, but if he keeps doing that to him, Nick will start to hate the game. That will kill his game completely.
“What happened?” I ask him to continue, but he drops his head down. Sighing loudly, he lets go of my hand and covers his own face, ashamed of himself.
“They gave me an ultimatum, Carter,” he mumbles into his hands. I’m still confused as to where this is going. He’s not explaining this very well.
“What?” I tilt my head to the side, curious as to what they could have said to him. Why is he acting so strange right now? It’s weirding me out at the moment. I’m uncomfortable right now just sitting across from him. I lean back on the seat and stare at him once he gives me his full attention. “Nick, look at me. What ultimatum?” I ask firmly this time. I don’t like the way he’s acting right now. This is not him. “Nick—”
“They want me to choose between you and football,” he blurts out. His face contorts out of pain in the process of telling me this. I watch his shoulders sag as I sink into the seat I’m sitting on. My entire body feels heavy and lifeless. He drops both hands away from his face and lays them on the table both our cups are sitting on. He’s refusing to make any eye contact with me as he gazes down at the space between both our drinks.
And that’s when it hits me—and it hits me hard. They gave him an ultimatum, but he has chosen . . . and it’s not me.
“You chose football, didn’t you?” I whisper to him. I could feel the tears pool in my eyes as I stare blankly at him. I’m trying not to believe my own words, trying to take it back and wait for him to show me that I’m wrong. But he’s not. He’s not doing anything.
How could I be so stupid? To think that any guy would choose me over their career? All I want is to be loved by someone. That’s all I want in life, but that stupid ultimatum keeps coming back to haunt me. It’s the same with these guys. They choose football over me, they act like there’s a choice when they can clearly have both.
“Carter, just listen to me,” he begs to me, but I shake my head rapidly. I can’t believe I’m feeling this all again for the third time. I knew I shouldn’t have persued this with him. I knew I should’ve just walked away. It was too good to be true. It’s was all too good.
“No! How could you!” I whimper at him. His eyes widen in shock.
“No, please, you have to let me explain. I didn’t have a choice, I do want to be with you—”
“Just stop, Nick! Just fucking stop. Save the ‘It’s me, not you’ speech. I know where this all goes, I’ve heard this all before.” I push myself up out of the booth and sidestep out to leave the cafe. A hand grips my wrist.
“Carter, please just hear me out. I want to be with you, I do. I’m being pressured to do this-”
“You’re just like the rest of them, Nick. I thought you were different. I thought you really did care for me. But you’re like all the others. Every single one of you gets to have that shot in the NFL. You got what you wanted, I hope you’re very happy. Enjoy your career, because I won’t be there watching you from the stands.” The hot tears stream down my face. I can feel them rolling down my neck like a river. I get pulled back for a second time to him, his grip tightening.
