48. Eden
EDEN
The first day of the “pause,” Connor texts me in the morning around my usual wake-up time.
CONNOR: Morning, Rosy.
EDEN: Good morning. How did you sleep?
CONNOR: [pic with his bedhead hair]
CONNOR: I guess alright, considering this mess.
EDEN: Lovely.
CONNOR: You have your last Art History lecture today?
EDEN: Yep, then the final paper is due next Friday.
My capstone project midyear report is already submitted, and my two other classes have exams. For Art History, we’re required to write an essay applying what we learned to an art piece of our choice, and I’m still working on it.
CONNOR: You got this.
EDEN:
EDEN: Okay, off to down some coffee.
CONNOR: Off to find a hairbrush.
EDEN: Good luck with that :) Talk later!
It’s honestly not too different from our days before, other than I know I’m not going to his place. Little texts sneak in during the day, here and there. At nine at night, we FaceTime.
“I was looking forward to seeing your beautiful face all day,” he says when I answer his call.
“How was practice?” It’s a Wednesday, so they must’ve started gearing up for the Sunday game in earnest. Also, I’m curious how things went with Dad.
Lying in bed, he straightens his glasses. “Long, but I did everything I needed to do. Your dad—he was normal. Not that we had any one-on-one time, but at practice, he was regular Coach Larsson.”
Hmmm. That’s good, but I still need to talk to Dad about his discussion with Connor.
“I’m going to try to connect with him tomorrow about everything. Hopefully we can move past yesterday and…the secrets.”
Connor twists his mouth. “I’m not going to push my luck. I’ll give it time and do my thing in practice.”
“Yeah, good plan.”
We both go quiet before he switches topics.
“So I have a question…”
“Yes?”
A mischievous smile comes on his face. “Do you have any requests for your Christmas present?”
Oh wow, I haven’t even thought of that—Connor’s my first serious boyfriend over the holidays since high school.
“We’d exchange gifts when you’re back from California, of course.”
I don’t want to put him out. “I mean…maybe we should agree not to do presents this year?”
He furrows his brow. “That’s what you want?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine with me.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but doesn’t push. “Okay.”
“I’ll wrap myself up in a bow for you?”
“Sounds like the best present ever.”
Good thing we can flirt over FaceTime since we’re not going to be in person for weeks.
Well, wait…there’s another option. A quite appealing one during our separation.
“Can I ask my own question?”
“Of course.”
“With our pause, are we allowed to do naked things? On FaceTime together…”
His eyes flash wide, and then he clears his throat. “This break is meant to help you. Keep things simpler for you. So…I’ll let you make that call, Rosy.”
“Well…I could use a little stress relief.”
He chuckles deeply. “I can imagine. You’re working hard.”
“So that’s a yes from me, Sir.” The nickname, a signal I want him to take over.
A grin slowly takes over his face.
“Very good, my smart girl. Show me what you have on.”
I tilt the phone to scan down my body. I’m wearing only panties besides the T-shirt that’s been in his view. He grunts in approval.
“It’s like you knew what you wanted, beauty.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Our transitions to scenes are smooth after so many weeks, like slipping on a comfortable shoe. I feel my mind letting go of anything and everything in my life except him. What he instructs. What he desires.
He doesn’t make me wait to find out what that’ll be tonight. “Get your phone stand set up so the camera’s shooting from between your knees.”
I scramble to comply. Once I have the stand in place, phone docked on it, I notice that Connor’s also moved his phone. Now I can see him torso to knees. He still has his shorts on, but his shirt is gone.
In the meantime, I’m lying prone on the bed, legs parted, with the phone shooting up my body.
“Take your shirt off, Rosy. I want to watch those beautiful tits shake during what’s coming next.”
He doesn’t say why they’re going to shake, but it’s not my role to ask. I pull it over my head.
“Good girl. My perfect listener.”
On the phone, I watch as he reaches into his shorts and pulls his cock out. It’s almost fully erect, and he gives it a stroke.
“I’m already so hard, beauty, because you’re such a good girl for me.”
I sigh with pleasure, and then wait for my next instruction.
“Keep your legs wide. I can see the shape of your lips through those panties. Did you know they’re transparent?”
“I didn’t, Sir.”
“Well, it’s quite a sight.” Stroke. “Now pull those panties aside, and give that needy pussy what she wants…”
I sleep well after that. The next morning, Connor repeats the routine of texting me as I’m getting ready.
This isn’t much different from before the pause. At least not yet.
But when I open my Notes of everything that I have to do before I leave for California, appreciation bubbles up for this little break, because my time can be focused here, at Tolliver.
I need to study a ton for these finals, and my efforts would be half-baked if I were at his apartment. Forget about writing my Art History paper there. Not because Connor would want to distract me, but because I’d be easily sidetracked in his presence.
The following day, I tackle another item—having a conversation with Dad about what happened with Connor. He connected me to his lawyer over email when Aiden sent his engagement letter two days ago, but we haven’t spoken.
I buzz him early in the morning, and he picks up right away.
“Hi, how is everything going?” he asks cautiously.
“I’m fine. You okay to talk now?
“Sure.”
“I—just so you know, Connor and I are staying together. Officially.”
He blows out a breath. “Okay. Okay.”
“He’s respectful of how busy I am, and I’m not worried about how the relationship’s going to impact school or soccer.” I’m not going to explain the “pause” to him right now; this is enough.
“Well…I appreciate that.” I can’t tell if he’s being reserved because he feels bad, or because he’s still upset. Maybe it’s both.
Either way, I soldier on. “It sounds like you were tough on him. After you and I spoke. Despite the fact that I told you it was my choice.”
“Yeah…yeah, I was. I was really pissed, Eden. I probably crossed some lines in what I said.”
“I don’t know everything you told him, but it was enough for him to think he was a burden on me. That’s not okay.” It’s as stern as I’ve ever been with him.
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right.”
“Now that I’m an adult, you need to respect my boundaries. It wasn’t your place to get involved. Be mad at him for lying for the sake of your relationship, but don’t mess with mine…Please.”
I can’t help but add that last word. It’s hard fighting with him.
His reply is more earnest. He’s heard me, I think. “I understand. You’re right. It’s a shift, thinking of you as an adult. The whole situation was…unfortunate. I’m not used to you keeping something this big from me either.”
That’s true. “I’m sorry for that.”
“I’ll do a better job at not getting involved, unless you ask. Although I’m going to keep my ‘dad card’ in my back pocket in case of emergencies.” He gives a half-laugh.
I feel the tension fade out of my chest. “Thank you.”
He changes the topic, which seems best for the moment. “Now tell me about how…”
When we get off ten minutes later, I jump to my kickoff meeting with Aiden over Zoom.
God, I’m finally here. Ready to transition to pro soccer. After such a long build-up, I’m buzzing with excitement when the line connects.
“Good morning,” he says, his salt-and-pepper haircut perfectly trimmed.
“Hi Aiden, how are you?”
“Great. Thank you for signing the engagement letter so quickly.”
“Of course.” He wasn’t permitted under NCAA rules to send it until after the College Cup, but Dad’s lawyer had been able to confirm all the terms swiftly.
He jumps right into the purpose of the meeting. “I’ve made a list of teams with weak spots at striker.”
As expected. “Sounds good.”
“I will say…it’s not a long list.” Sounds not so good. “Salt Lake City, Kansas City, and Boston.”
Only three teams out of sixteen? Yikes. “Okay, so what does that mean?”
“I wanted to gut-check some options with you. I can work on only those places where I think you have a potential to start…or try to get you on a good roster, even as a backup.”
Crap, I want to play. Not sit on the bench. “Huh.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive, either. I can pursue both.”
I check myself. I didn’t indefinitely postpone medical school not to play. I want to start.
“Let’s begin with the shorter list. I really don’t want to be stuck on a bench.”
He dips his head. “Understood.”
“Thanks, Aiden.”
He taps a piece of paper in front of him. “There’s a wild card option in the mix too, but let me do some digging first.”
Not much I can say to that. “Alright.”
“I’ll try to get back to you before Christmas on those three teams, depending on their interest.”
“Great.”
We hang up after saying goodbye. I give myself a minute to absorb everything that he said, trying to push away the anxiety of so many unknowns.
You’re in good hands. Something will come together.
I shake off the conversation and turn to my Genetics notes instead.
The days fly by, Connor and I now reliably in the routine of morning texts and nighttime FaceTimes.
All seems strong and steady between us. Dad and I start texting like normal, our relationship hopefully smoothed out.
Grace makes sure my media and sponsorship responsibilities stay to a minimum until my tests are done.
“They can wait for you,” she explains. “The demand isn’t going away.”
Everything should feel on track.
Except that when I get on the plane to California the next Friday, all my final exams done, Art History paper turned in…Aiden doesn’t have any new developments to report.
No NWSL teams are showing any urgency to sign me. My future as a pro, still not secured.