6. Connor
CONNOR
“So you’re definitely going to this Tolliver party?” Rawley asks, sprawled on his couch watching some fishing show. One of his Waves teammates is having a Fourth of July party this year, where he’s headed in a little bit. Avery is coming with him since she doesn’t have a game.
“Yeah, there’s someone I want to see that I haven’t yet this summer.”
He freezes, putting two and two together. “A woman?”
“Maybe,” I admit glibly.
“Got it,” he says, chuckling. “We’ll probably sleep at Avery’s, so you’ll have this place to yourself.”
He now has his own condo, having moved out of Landon’s house right before his second season with the Waves. Conveniently, he purchased a two-bedroom, so I have a place to stay here.
I don’t expect to have company tonight, though. Instead, I’m trying to downplay any assumptions about Eden’s invite to this party.
It was definitely unexpected. Despite the fact that she followed me on Instagram last summer, we hadn’t connected directly. Our only contact has been when we occasionally liked each other’s soccer-related posts.
Then, she’d sent me a DM on July 2:
EDEN: Hey! Super random, but I wanted to see. Are you in Orlando for July 4 this year? I just got back to Florida from California. Been visiting my mom.
Momentarily stunned to see the message, I hastily replied once I recovered.
CONNOR: Yes, I’m here for a few more days before I go back to New Jersey.
EDEN: Okay. Bree is hosting a party again if you want to stop by.
I’d read the message twice before replying. It was like someone had opened a Tupperware containing my Eden memories and turned it upside down in front of me. They all flashed through my mind. The first time we met. The day I brought Rawley to the Tolliver field. Last year, when I cleaned her shirt.
Those penetrating turquoise eyes, studying me with curiosity.
Inspired by the small stack of remembrances, my latent interest heated back up, even after the passage of time.
She’s in Orlando, and she invited me to a party. There was no way I was going to decline.
CONNOR: Sure.
EDEN: Bring anyone you want.
I hadn’t responded to that last message, not sure of the right thing to say.
There’s no one to bring. No friends here other than Shane, who’s out of town and who’d presumably be invited anyway if he was around, and no date.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve had plenty of hookups, but I haven’t found anyone I’ve connected with since I broke up with my freshman girlfriend, Beatrice.
She’d been great, but in the end it felt like we were almost too similar.
She was witty, beautiful, and brilliant—but also guarded, contrarian, and uncomfortable relinquishing any decisions to me, even on day-to-day stuff. It didn’t work for our relationship.
We’ve stayed friends, though, and I’ll forever be grateful for the suggestion she made once I started sharing more about my high school years in Alabama.
Since her, nothing serious had evolved at Princeton, or here in Orlando during the summer. So, yeah, I’m flying solo to the party. But it’s a boon, because there’s only one person I want to focus on.
Still, sitting here with Rawley now, I know I need to have zero expectations. Eden’s message was completely out of the blue. We’ve barely spent time together, so this draw to her could prove a thing of the past once I’m at Bree’s.
Or so I tell myself. My body seems to be speaking a different language because as the time to leave approaches, there’s a low-frequency thrum running through my chest.
Expect nothing, I repeat as I drive to the party.
I’m not sure the commands are working, and as I knock on the door to Bree’s house, I let out a puff of air and try again.
Just be cool. It’ll be a nice change of pace to hang with the Tolliver crew no matter what.
The door swings open, and it’s Bree who greets me.
“Princeton boy. Back again, with a shirt on. Excellent.” She cranes her head back over her shoulder. “Eden, your guest is here.”
A shiver runs up my neck at the words “your guest,” but I ignore it.
Bree widens the opening of the door for me to enter, and as I walk in, Eden approaches.
She’s wearing a teal cotton shirt with big white stars over a denim skirt, and those pretty turquoise eyes light up as soon as she sees me.
“You came.”
I step up to her. “I did.”
We spend a few seconds looking at each other for the first time in a year. Her eyes glimmer with excitement.
That’s promising.
No expectations, yells another part of my brain.
The moment is interrupted by Bree. “You two catch up. I’m going to head back to the kitchen.” If I’m not wrong, I see her give a thumbs-up to Eden. Interesting.
Ignoring that, Eden gestures to the living room, where a few others are hanging. She hands me a beer from a cooler, and we stand there as I take my first sip.
“Have you had a good summer?”
A vanilla question, and I give a vanilla answer. “It’s been alright. Seen your dad some.”
“So he said. How’s it been going?”
Like the past two summers, Del had invited me out to kick a few times, this time on the practice field he uses with the Waves. Obviously, I wasn’t going to reject an offer from one of the greats of all time.
“Your dad—well, you know this, I’m sure. He’s a really good mentor.”
She smiles at the compliment to Del. “He mentioned you played football at college last year, instead of soccer.” Her voice rises in pitch as she finishes the sentence, like there’s an unspoken question there…
“Yeah, my first year not playing on a soccer team…since I was four years old, actually.” The shift still feels a little wild, and my voice carries a hint of disbelief.
Her brows go up. My siblings were surprised too.
But the coaches had been clear this year. It was one thing to sub in for a single football game sophomore year when the team was in a pinch. With the whole fall season in view my junior year, they needed me to pick a sport.
To the shock of everyone, I opted for football. I find myself spilling to Eden why, in a way that I hadn’t with anyone else yet.
“You know what it’s like growing up in the soccer world, right? Always chasing those top-level spots for your age group.”
Her eyes flash with recognition as she gives a little nod. We haven’t had a chance to talk soccer previously, so I’m not sure she knew how deep in the US Youth program I’d been.
“When I wasn’t…” I hesitate, suddenly reluctant to show a weak side to Eden. But then I look up at those bright blue eyes, softly holding my gaze, and I push the rest out.
“When I wasn’t invited to a U19 team training camp, it was like a balloon popped for me.
Year after year of being all in on whatever the coaches needed, whatever it took to be the best—all that energy, motivation, was gone.
It was the first time I’d failed to be selected, and a lot of my friends from prior teams were chosen. ”
She purses her lips, eyes full of sympathy. “That must have been so hard.”
My voice goes low and soft. “It hurt like a motherfucker.”
She frowns, clearly upset on my behalf—yet, I don’t like that frown.
“I’m okay now. Your dad’s opened up the whole world of kicking for the NFL as a career path, and I have some other ideas I want to explore after graduation.”
Her face relaxes somewhat. “Is one playing in Major League Soccer?”
I shake my head. “Nah, that deflated balloon isn’t filling back up. And I don’t see myself enjoying being a journeyman in the MLS. It was the Premier League I wanted.”
She gives an understanding look. The Premier League is most male soccer players’ dream, the cream of the crop globally playing in the English circuit.
“I still love talking about soccer, watching it.” I don’t want her to think she has to avoid the topic. “It’s just my playing days that are over. I’m not into it…mentally.”
Fuck, I hope I don’t come across as a total downer. The fact is, it’s nice to share all this with someone who understands the pressure of that environment.
I push a smile on my face, and she seems to get my cue to lighten the mood.
“Well, good thing you’re okay chatting about soccer, because we do a lot of that around here.”
“Oh yeah?” I glance across the room and note there are more women than men this year. “Are these largely your teammates?”
“Yep, most of the rising sophomores and juniors anyway.” She tilts her head toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll intro you to the crew.”
Two minutes later, we’re in the kitchen surrounded by Tolliver soccer players. I meet April, Teresa, Chloe, Alondra, and Monique in rapid-fire succession, and I don’t even try to remember who is who, because it’s unlikely I’ll ever see these ladies again.
“You’re the shirt guy, right?” Chloe (I think) asks. “From last year?”
“That’s me. I can sacrifice this one later if the evening requires,” I say dryly, and a couple of them chuckle.
“I know one person who might not mind that,” Bree says under her breath, except yeah, I have good hearing.
Eden throws an elbow in her ribs.
Too late—I’m not going to forget that comment.
“Why don’t we go out to the pool area?” Bree says to our larger group, including a couple of guys who are on the outskirts of our kitchen conversation.
Like most Florida homes, the pool is within a screened area, as protection from alligators and all the other critters that live here.
We filter out onto the deck around the pool, and I follow as Eden takes us around the left side to a couple of lounge chairs.
She looks so pretty out here, with the lights making her honey hair glow. “I’m glad you could come. I’m sure you had other options for tonight.”
“My brother invited me to a Waves party,” I acknowledge.
“That would have been fun. Although everyone still treats me like ‘Del’s little girl’ at things like that.” She doesn’t sound annoyed, just amused.
“I think it’s more of the young crowd. Though I was happy to get the invite here. To hang with other college students…” I debate whether to release the next words that want to come out, and then I just let them fly. “...and to see you again.”