6. Connor #2
I spot the exact moment she absorbs what I said, blushing slightly before responding.
“I—sorry about everyone being obsessed with your shirt situation from last year. Or our shirt situation, I guess.”
“That’s okay, it’s nice to be remembered for something.”
Despite my wry tone, she stays straight-faced. “Remembered, for sure. But I-I’m sorry we didn’t really talk after that.”
I flick over her face, not confident where she’s going with that statement. Or where this night is going, to be honest. I don’t want to make a wrong move.
Make a joke, stay light. “Well, there was a lot of emotional investment behind my likes on your posts during the year,” I tease back. “So don’t minimize them.”
She eases into a laugh. Good.
“Same. Same.”
I lock our eyes, trying to read what’s happening in her head. “No need to apologize. It’s not like you owed me anything. Plus, I’m sure you were busy. I know I was.”
Her face crinkles. “Busy is all I know.”
“Oh yeah, what keeps you busy?” I know about soccer, but is there something else?
“School—I’m pre-med. Being captain for the first time this coming year and hoping we win the NCAA championship. My family living in two places across the country from each other. Keeping on top of my NIL deals. And dropping everything when I’m called up for the national team.”
“Shit, yeah, that’s a lot. Pre-med, huh?”
“Yep, technically I’m a Biology major,” she explains. “But I’m doing the full pre-med course load.”
Jesus, could Eden be any more of a badass? But how would going to medical school work with soccer? There’s no way she could handle the National Women’s Soccer League’s demands while getting her MD.
“Are you not going pro, then, after graduation?” Since she’s only a junior next year, maybe she plans to compete for two more years in college and then be done?
She shuffles her hands on her lap. “I…I can honestly say my balloon has not popped and my dreams still feel really alive. I haven’t told anyone else this yet, but I can’t see myself giving up soccer in two years.” The latter remark is said in a whisper.
I match her volume. “I assume your parents would be cool with that?” I can’t imagine Del would be anything other than supportive.
“Oh, yeah,” she says dismissively. “My parents weigh in, but always let me make the final decisions about everything like that.”
Always? Like even when she was a kid? I don’t push further, but yeah, that sounds familiar. Although in my case, it was more out of negligence than respect for my independence.
“They keep advocating for me to follow through with my medical school applications next spring, though. Mom, especially. So I don’t close one avenue off too quickly.”
I had some friends start that process in the past year; I know it’s rigorous. Sounds like she’s going to get even busier.
“You have to do some kind of master application process, right?”
“Well, first off I have to take the MCAT. I…I’ve already started studying.” Of course she has. “But, yes, there’s a portal you submit your applications through. That will start next May or June.”
“That’s a lot to figure out, on top of everything else. It must help to be at a college in Orlando near your dad, at least. Less back and forth?”
“Sort of. I spent most of my childhood in San Diego, so I miss my people there. My mom is my role model. The tenacity it took to get through medical school with a baby, on her own…well, with her family helping too, but still.”
“She didn’t give up her dreams.”
“Neither did Dad. I want to be like them when I grow up.”
I wonder if she realizes that she’s in a more difficult spot than her parents were, because she’s navigating two extremely demanding dreams, not just one.
“That’s some serious pressure that you’re putting on yourself. A lot to juggle.” I keep my tone even so it doesn’t seem like I’m being negative.
“Yeah…”
My instinct is to explore how to help reduce that stress, but of course, I barely know the woman.
Her face shifts, like she’s had a snap of awareness, and then she rolls her eyes. “I’m being fucking boring, sorry.”
I tilt my head, pulling the corners of my mouth up. “Nah, I’d rather have a real conversation.”
She sinks further into the lounge chair and gives a small smile back. “Okay. Me too.”
We don’t speak for another couple of seconds, but the silence is comfortable enough.
I’m the one who breaks it, switching topics. “So three hundred and sixty-five days of following each other and this is our first true conversation.”
She pivots her head to face me, eyebrow raised. “Is that your way of asking why I invited you?”
Am I about to get an answer on that? “The question did cross my mind.”
She finishes her beer, and when her response comes, it’s in a low, smooth tone.
“Because one thing I’m no longer juggling is a boyfriend.”
Fuck. Okay?
“That’s…good.”
“I don’t know if it was good a month ago when Greg broke up with me, but it is right now.”
I’m quickly catching up. Also, fuck Greg. Or maybe, thank you, Greg, depending on where this conversation is going.
“And you wanted—what?”
She bites her lip. “After the Fourth last year, it took me a solid two weeks to stop thinking about you. That was quite the impression you left.”
Holy shit, really? Same, Eden, same.
“But then I got distracted by soccer and started dating Greg…then all of a sudden it’s the Fourth again, which reminded me of last year, and I’m not attached to anyone…”
“Uh-huh…” This is starting to sound like a glorified booty call.
I’m not complaining.
“Also, Bree stood over my shoulder and dictated that message I sent you, and wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” I tease.
The ends of her lips turn up. “Very few people have even tried.”
“Well, you did ultimately press send.” I inch closer to her. “What do you want to happen now?”