Page 69 of Facing Off
My shoulder nudges hers. “Plotting what?”
“Regular doom and gloom stuff,” she deadpans, nudging me back.
My breath hitches in my throat—and I’m dazed. My chest begins to ache and I’m wondering, is there any chance she’s interested in this? Because I’m so tired of flirting as if we’re only playing a game. As if I do this with other women when I don’t.
“Sonya?”
“Yeah.”
I look at her, tensing because am I really going to dothis? To stop playing off what’s between us as a no-stakes fun game we play? “You should go out with me.” Anticipation makes my heart pound hard. “If you want?”
Fuck, wait.That makes it sound like I don’t care.
She doesn’t say anything.
“It’ll be a lot of fun,” I exclaim, jittery nerves hijacking my voice.
Fuck, now I sound like I’m a fuckboy selling it!
Her expression scrunches, but no words from Sonya.
Meanwhile, I’m dust. Nothing. Kaput. A pile of disembodied consciousnesses about to fall to the ground. I can’t mess this up, and here I am, fucking messing it up.
“I’d like to take you to dinner and get to know you,” I rush out sincerely. She has to know how important this is to me. I’m leaning forward towards her so much.
But too late, I’ve botched it.
Sonya stands up and gathers our trash. The fries are done, and so is she. Without making eye contact, she returns my jacket and says her goodbye. “No, thanks, Hughes. But I’ll see you around. Feel…better, okay?”
Water droplets fall from the sky.
She walks away in the rain.
My back slumps harder against the bench.
Her turning me down happens all the time between us. I should’ve predicted her rejection, but somehow it’s a blow this time, enough to make me bend over?—
The noise of a happy couple jogging jerks me straight.
What am I doing?!
If any of the tabloids caught me in that pose, they’d splash the picture everywhere.
Adrian Hughes alone and sitting in the rain after a massive loss. Then what would my family think? Or the Wings? They’d all worry. Think something was wrong with me.
I know that without a doubt.
And how selfish would that be? I’m out here, forgetting how lucky I am. That anyone else would kill to have my life, to be the captain of the Wings.
Jesse would have loved it.
I get off the bench. And I force myself to move.
It’s the only way I know how to honor my best friend’s legacy. Not give up. Not even for a second. Because it’s Jesse who should be here, not me, living this dream.
Grief and guilt slice into me. Our season might be shit so far, but it’s not over.I have to be like Jesse and do what he would’ve wanted me to do. Going forward, I should be stronger. Clear-headed. Stubborn. Persistent. Optimistic. Determined.
It doesn’t matter if I don’t feel any of those things right now. Or if a certain ballerina has pulled my heart apart, stepping over invisible carnage as she walked away. Who cares that I don’t know how to cope with the fact that she doesn’t want me? That it’s past time for me to get over her, but I don’t know how?
