Page 17 of Studs Up
My career drains like sand in an hourglass. Then it’s my agent. I’m not good enough to keep. And then, I have nothing.
That’s when I wake up gasping and sobbing.
Nolan slept, the sound machine hummed its pleasant white noise, and I was wide awake.
I didn’t jump off the bike this time when Nolan came up next to me. He didn’t say a word as he dropped a water bottle into the cup holder and got on the bike next to me. He started pedaling, and that’s what we did, in complete silence for an hour.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. What I did know was it was nice not to be alone. He didn’t judge or prod or even make it a competition. He pedaled away at his own pace and left me to do what I needed to do.
It was a comfortable hour. I closed my eyes and felt his presence. It was solid and dependable and something I needed so badly.
I didn’t fight the feeling of peace. I could embrace it, for tonight at least. Just let it all go and, for a little while, not feel the weight of the pain and panic.
When I was done, he still didn’t say anything. He twisted open the bottle of water and handed it to me with a look that clearly stated I would see the end of my life if I didn’t drink it. He didn’t say a word in the elevator or the room. He let me rinse off in the shower first, and by the time he closed the door for his turn, I was out like a fucking baby.
I woke pissed off. None of this was allowed. Being comfortable with Nolan was not allowed. Being attracted to Nolan was definitely not allowed.
It was all against the rules, and all of my carefully constructed walls were shredded by proximity, and to make matters fucking worse, he wasn’t making me mad. Having him near me, just being there. It was insane how good it felt, how easy it was.
The walls had to go back up and reengineered to be stronger and thicker. A fucking fortress so that no one could penetrate it again.
He was playing nice. That’s what Coach asked us to do and he was a good boy, so that’s all this was. That’s it. There was nothing more to it.
I got out of bed. It was the last day. All I had to do was get through this last day of camp, and then I could go home and never, ever put myself this close to Nolan Reed again.
Who the fuck knew when my resolve would snap and I would do something catastrophically stupid.
Nolan
Whenever I watched footage of Monroe, I focused on his skill, talent, and athletics. I hadn’t actually watched him. I shouldn’t be trying so hard to fix a problem that was none of my fucking business, but I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t turn around and walk away, knowing if he didn’t find a way to unlock himself, he would never be the player I knew he was.
So, I watched and absorbed him as a whole. I was feeding the obsession I had with him, feeding with giant platefuls of Holden Monroe.
The team eventually trickled off the field. Some had flights later, and some had them in the morning. I didn’t know when he had to leave, but he wasn’t leaving the field until he was ready.
He was juggling in the eighteen, and when it felt right, he’d smash it into the net with his left foot. He did it over and over.
He watched me approach, and as the ball came down to his feet, he sent it right toward me. I sidestepped it, and the ball sailed past.
“Go away,” he said. He sounded tired and annoyed.
“I figured it out,” I said.
“Figured what out?” He turned and put his hands on his hips, and it was hard not to stare at the muscles clenched tight. He was so twisted up that he was ready to explode.
“You’re trying too hard,” I said, stopping and crossing my arms.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you’re on a fucking team, Monroe. You don’t score goals by yourself. You have a whole fucking team whose literal job is to help you score goals.”
His eyes narrowed and sent icy daggers right at me.
“Fuck you,” he said and turned away to get another ball.
“You don’t trust the people around you,” I continued. “Not even Prince, who is your actual teammate and, for unknown reasons, your friend.”
His face turned fiery red and his nostrils flared.
