7. Juliet #2
Axel narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve been dating Juliet off and on for two years. But we’re on a break. I didn’t realize she was seeing other people.”
I clench my jaw because nothing that just came out of his mouth is anywhere close to the truth.
But I can’t seem to make my tongue move to call him out.
I hate that he’s always made me feel so small.
My eyes flick to Parker who’s watching me carefully.
His eyebrows lift slightly and I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. Mostly, I just want Axel to go away.
“Well, I guess you’re really the ex now, huh?” Parker stands a tiny bit taller, his huge hand engulfing mine even more. “’Cause we’ve been dating for a few months.”
I see fury burn in Axel’s eyes. His friend and teammate steps between him and Parker. “It’s not worth it, man.”
Axel looks at me. “You’re right, it’s not. Because when this ends in a week, she’ll come back to me, just like she always does. We’re meant to be.” Without another glance at Parker, he walks away.
“You okay?” Parker asks, leading me to a couch. “You’re shaking.”
I hate Axel. I hate him. Maybe that’s a terrible thing to say, considering I don’t hate anything, but I do. I hate him. The nerve he has, trying to get under my skin in front of Parker. Parker.
I look at him. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t seem to let go of your hand after I saw him. I wasn’t trying to do anything…”
He searches my face. “Are you okay?”
No, not really. I hate how much seeing my ex shakes me up. I avoid tabloids and news, and he’s blocked on all of my socials, but seeing him here? I wasn’t ready for that.
“I’m fine.” I push down the worry building in my chest. The last time I ran into Axel was six months ago, right after I got the news that I wouldn’t be going to the Olympics due to my injury and he was about to leave.
We spent the week together, and it felt so good, so normal, so right.
I thought that maybe it was for real that time.
I was completely in love with him, even after all of our on-again, off-again relationship.
Then he left for the Olympics. I thought we had an understanding of what we were—together—and maybe this time we’d make it work.
Instead, he ghosted me and was posting pictures with his “new girlfriend” the very next week.
Some model who he’d flown out to support him while his team played in the Olympics.
I was crushed.
Blair flew out to see me in DC when she hadn’t heard from me in a week.
She found me curled under a blanket on the couch, re-watching Grey’s Anatomy.
She got me out of my depressive episode and helped me get back on my meds and back on track with training so that the next time the Olympics come around, I’ll be ready to go. I don’t think I’d be here without her.
“You don’t seem fine.” Parker’s voice shakes me out of my memory. My hands shake slightly and he grabs one, threading his fingers through mine. “Look at me,” he says, his voice low and calm. “Breathe when I do, in…out…in…out…there you go.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hate that I feel this way. Memories of that week after he left, when I found out he was with someone else, are hitting me full force. I want to go hide under a blanket. But I won’t, because that would be letting him win, and I’m not going to let that happen again.
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
I shake my head. “I’d really like to go decorate some cookies if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure thing.”
I’m thankful he doesn’t push. I should probably tell him why I just freaked out when one of the most famous soccer players in the world just claimed I’d come running back to him, but I don’t. Instead, we find the stairs and make our way to the third floor.
Outside of the fireside lounge, I tense, hearing the familiar laughter of my ex.
“We don’t have to go in there,” Parker offers.
“No, I want to.” I square my shoulders. I can do this.
He slips his hand into mine. “I don’t mind playing your boyfriend this week, at least when he’s around, if that would make you feel better.
And if that doesn’t make you feel better, you can completely forget that dumb suggestion, and we can go make cookies and I’ll be your best friend’s little brother and nothing more. ”
My heart melts. “That’s really sweet of you to offer.”
Parker pulls his hand from mine, a flash of hurt in his eyes. I didn’t mean to hurt him.
“Best friend’s little brother, got it.” I want to tell him that his offer isn’t just sweet, it’s perfect.
Too perfect, even. He shouldn’t give me that kindness, and maybe he wouldn’t if he knew what type of person I’ve been.
If Parker knew that I flung myself at Axel over and over and over, and that it took him sending me into a depressive episode to realize that I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for him.
I’m Axel’s backup plan, and I hate that. But I also can’t accept Parker’s offer.
I don’t get a chance to say any of that, though, because Parker steps into the room and I have no choice but to follow him. A woman beams at us from a table to our right. “Are you an athlete checking in?”
“I’m not,” Parker says, then points to me. “But she is.”
I tell her my name and she looks through a list—I guess they’re keeping track of who goes where.
I can’t really focus though; instead I scan the room, and sure enough, I see Axel sitting at a table with a family with two young kids, probably members of the Winterbrook community.
My stomach flips, threatening to lose my lunch as I watch as the parents laugh at something he says.
My breathing comes in quick gasps, like I can’t breathe in deeply.
“We’ll sit over there,” Parker says, gently grabbing my hand and pulling me to the opposite side of the room, where there’s an empty table. My breathing is still shallow; I can’t focus on anything. “Look at me.”
My eyes spring to his honey-brown ones. Which now that I’m looking into them, they seem more golden than brown.
I was so distracted by his glasses yesterday that I didn’t notice the color of his eyes.
I’ve never noticed the color of his eyes until this moment, I always just assumed they were dark brown like Blair’s.
“I want you to look around and tell me five things you can see.”
Uh, that’s weird, but okay. I avoid looking in Axel’s direction again, instead looking at the table in front of me. “Red tablecloth, green and red frosting, sugar cookies that look like Christmas trees, and sprinkles. Was that five?”
He shakes his head. “One more.”
“You.”
“Good. Now I want you to tell me four things you can hear.”
I’ve never heard of this weird game he’s playing, but it’s slightly distracting me from Axel, so I go along with it.
My breathing slows as I glance around the room, focusing on the noises I’m hearing.
“They’re playing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” on a speaker, a girl over there is giggling, another kid is singing “Jingle Bells,” and I can hear my voice. What is this game?”
“It’s not a game, and I’ll explain when we finish. Tell me three things you can touch. Describe the texture or how it feels under your fingers.”
I want him to explain now, but when I open my mouth to say as much, he shakes his head. “Three things, Jules.”
I sigh. I reach out and touch the plastic tablecloth. “This feels like cheap plastic.”
He nods. “What else?”
I touch the faux-fur trim on the end of my sleeve. “This is soft.” I reach out and touch his cardigan, because I’ve been wanting to see if it’s as soft as it looks. “This feels…soft and comfortable. Like something I’d want to curl up in while watching a Christmas movie.”
“Good,” he says. Still staring at my face and not at my hand, which is still stroking his sweater. I know that’s weird, but I can’t seem to pull my hand away. “Now two things you can smell and one thing you can taste.”
“Sugar cookies.” I grin. The entire room smells absolutely delightful, like those sugary candles I always used to burn in my bedroom because Mom didn’t want them anywhere else in the house. “And I smell cinnamon, I think. Or some other spice.”
I look around. I don’t actually taste anything right now. I grab a knife from the frosting bowl in front of me and lick it clean. “This is a little bit sweeter than I usually like, but it’s good.”
“We’re gonna need a new knife.”
This makes me laugh. “I’m not going to stick this back in the bowl.
We have to share that, and who knows where the cookies are going after we decorate them?
I don’t want to spread all my germs, especially not if I’m carrying whatever Blair has.
” I shudder, placing the plastic knife on the table.
“Now are you going to explain your game or not?”
“It’s an anxiety trick,” he says, his eyes shifting to the floor as if this is somehow embarrassing.
“Anxiety? I’m not anxious though.”
His eyes flit up to mine. “You were completely tense, your shoulders practically up to your ears, and I swear you stopped breathing for a minute. I had to get you to stop thinking about…” He trails off and my heart clenches again.
I’d forgotten about Axel for a moment. He continues, “It’s a trick I learned when I went to the free therapy my campus offers a couple of years ago. ”
“You go to therapy?”
He shakes his head. “Well, sometimes. My anxiety isn’t bad all the time.”
“I didn’t know you had anxiety.” Blair never said anything.
“I was in denial about it for a while. Didn’t think I really had it, but then someone pointed out that I’m always burying myself in schoolwork so that I’m constantly busy.
When I told them it was because I didn’t want to listen to all the ways I overthink everything else, they said I might have anxiety and that I should talk to a therapist. She gave me some tools, like what I just showed you.
It helps ground yourself in the present moment; you’re busy focused on your physical surroundings and all of your senses, so your brain has to stop worrying about whatever it was you were worrying about. ”
I sit there for a moment. Maybe I don’t have super intense anxiety, but I did feel like I couldn’t breathe since I found out Axel was here. And Parker’s trick did help.
“Thanks,” I say. “It helped.”
He grabs a cookie and a new knife. “Anytime. Now, should we make the best decorated Christmas cookies the world has ever seen?”
A laugh bubbles out of me as I reach for one shaped like a Santa hat. “Sounds like a good plan.”