Page 42 of Unrivaled Love
I feel terrible.
It was an accident, I’d never intentionally spoil a story for someone, but I still regret it happened.
She was so upset.
The pain in her face was evident. And it was excruciating to witness. My fingers tingled with the urge to comfort her.
Maybe I pushed her too far.
And she’s been wearing the same clothes, her fucking uniform, for three days now. It’s like she doesn’t have anything else with her.
That’s weird, right?
She’s got a car. Why doesn’t she go out to get some clothes? There are plenty of stores in town and the super center is like a twenty minute drive west.
Something is obviously wrong and here I am finding renewed energy from torturing her.
I feel like a flaccid dick. Small, wrinkly, and limp.
I don’t want to prank her anymore.
But I don’t know what to do instead.
She literally fell into my lap this week. For years I’ve been pining from afar and eventually I stopped trying to get close to her again.
Jo used to be the one I could lean on, confide in. And I think I was that for her too. If she needs a friend I’d gladly be there for her again now.
She might not know it, but I know her. I watch her teams’ social media accounts. I see how hard she works. I read the blogs and reports about her. Listen to the PSL podcasts. When she was announced for the national team, I almost cried from how proud I was. Felix was next to me and I had to explain my sudden surge of emotion.
I watch every match, even if it’s on tape delay because we had a game too. I know her pre-game and re-warm up routine. How she shuffles and taps her left toe on the sideline first, then the right, then she jogs out onto the field. I watch her crack her knuckles with her thumb before each kick off.
The tears she was crying felt like tsunami waves crashing into me and pulling me under. I didn’t know how to react.
What are the fucking chances we’re both readingRaven Squall?
This title was all anyone in the book world was talking about back in January but I don’t let myself read the heavy stuff during the season. I stick to romcoms and lighter stories because a good laugh when a character finds herself waking up on the dayafterChristmas, realizing her Heartmark style holiday romance story is now her life is the balm to my soul as romance writers say.
It’s more like the chill pill for my overly-intense training and game schedule. This isn’t exactly something I share with all the boys but one day I will convince them; the Big Guns don’t just need to be Cap’s movies, some of the scenes I’ve read would elevate our bedroom escapades to epic levels.Something tells me Young Gun may know exactly what I’m talking about.
Who knows, since we are both readingRaven Squall, maybe Jo and I will be able to have a little “book talk” about our favorite parts.
Holy shit. What if she wants to reenact scenes with me?
And as much as I want to get back into the story and learn what happens next, and store away some tips for the future, there’s something I want to do more.
I want to help Jo feel better.
For all the romance I read I still don’t know what to do with a sad girl. My instinct is to be goofy and help her just laugh it off. But it doesn’t feel like that would fix anything, just make it better for the moment.
One author posted a video saying you can console an author by saying “there, they’re, their,” and as hilarious as that is, I don’t think it would help either.
I seriously doubt my teammates will be able to provide insight but desperate times and all.
Mayday! Mayday!
She got sad and it wasn’t even because of a prank.
CROSBY
