Page 123 of With the Assist

She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away.

Instead, she kisses me once more. This time it’s quick and sweet.

We stand there for a little longer, pressed against the wall, breathing each other’s air while the Christmas lights from the storefront across the street reflect in the dark windows around us.

This might be a fling for her, but she has to know it’s different for me. Doesn’t she?

33

Wesley

By the time Avery starts counting my touches out loud, I know I’m in trouble.

“One,” she says as she jogs alongside me, watching my feet instead of the ball. “Two. Three. Wow. You’re playing like you’re either extremely well-rested or got laid.”

“Can you not narrate my life?” I mutter, pushing the ball forward and threading a pass to Becca on the sideline.

Becca traps it cleanly, shoots me a grin, and immediately betrays me. “She’s glowing,” she says. “It’s unsettling.”

Haley, already jogging back into position, snorts. “I’d say her boyfriend is treating her very right.”

“He must be.” Avery nods for me to follow her to the corner. Once she’s got me alone, she starts again. “What’s with the post-holiday, post-fake-boyfriend, post-whatever the hell has been happening for the last week, glow? And why haven’t I heard about it already?”

I wink, then send the ball back to Becca down the sideline harder than necessary and take off downfield. My lungs fill with cold air as my body falls into a steady rhythm. It’s only a matter of time before Avery follows me over here.

We’re running passing drills with quick touches. It’s meant to keep us sharp since we have a break before our next scrimmage. It’s working. My muscles feel loose and responsive. Everything is clicking perfectly, and we’re moving as a unit.

I don’t think it's a coincidence.

I can map this past week by moments instead of days. The sound of Nathan’s laugh as it echoed through his parking garage when I tripped over my own bag. The way he leans against door frames like he has nowhere else he needs to be, even when I know his schedule is tighter than mine. The strange calm that settles in my chest when his hand finds the back of my neck as if it belongs there. The steadiness under the heat keeps catching me off guard.

Nathan’s had home games this week, so we haven’t been separated by distance. And without a plane ride keeping us apart, we’ve found a way to get to each other every single day since Christmas. Sometimes it’s after our workouts, or late at night, or in the middle of the damn day. We’ve squeezed each other into whatever space we could find. It’s an uncontrollable need masked by the unspoken agreement that we won’t examine it too closely.

I’ve lost my mind. I’m not the Wesley Miller whose singular focus is soccer. That Wesley would never sneak into the custodial closet at the stadium after training with a professional hockey player. She’d never let him push her against the door and sink to his knees in front of her. She’d never let him put his head between her legs, using his tongue until she collapsed against him.

But I had, and I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

I was simultaneously making up for the time we lost fighting against this and making the most of the little time we had left.

It’s New Year’s Eve tomorrow. Nathan won both of his games this week and is leading his team in goals, all but cementing his spot on the team. My coach is thoroughly convinced that I have balance, because I do. It started as a charade, but getting out of my comfort zone with Nathan has made it real. I’ve made more friends on the team, and I plan to keep fostering those relationships.

After the party next week, we have no reason to keep this arrangement. I don’t like to think about it. Then, I don’t like to think about why I don’t like to think about it.

Tomorrow, we are going out together. It’s our last public date aside from the party.

Considering how well the Blades are playing and the fact that it’ll be New Year’s Eve, I know the paparazzi will be out in full force. But I hadn’t thought about that at all. I was really only thinking about how much fun we’d have. Because if one thing was guaranteed when I was with Nathan, it was having fun.

Two months ago, I thought Nathan Wilder was overrated, overhyped, and arrogant. Now, I know him well enough to know that the hype is warranted. He’s got more stress in his life than anyone would ever realize because he somehow manages to smile through it. He is confident and charming, but not in an arrogant way. It’s in a way that is totally deserved because his every action backs it up.

“Wes,” Avery says, out of breath as she makes her way to me across the field. “You’re ignoring me, which means I’m right.”

“I’m literally in the middle of a drill.” I try to refocus, checking my shoulder and laying the ball off to Haley before cutting inside.

“Multitasking is a thing,” she fires back. “Now. Details. Are we talking about good sex or life-altering sex?”

I groan. “You’re insufferable.”

Becca jogs closer, lowering her voice like we’re not all still very much within earshot. “Is it true that hockey guys are packing?”