THAT POOR KID #2
I released the door, wiping the remaining tears with my sleeve.
“I’m…overthinking,” I said quietly to myself. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared at the Blades sticker on the wall, letting the anxiety wash over me until I could breathe again.
The WAGs’ fear about Tomasini unnerved me. Clearly, he’d been more involved than I’d been led to believe. The stories about him scared me too and those were just stories. What had the Blades been going through with Tomasini around?
Nick had snapped at me but that was so out-of-character for him and didn’t really mean anything in these circumstances. It wasn’t worth worrying about.
Nick was in trouble. That was the real source of my anxiety. Me leaving the Everett Center wouldn’t do anything but put a temporary bandaid on my own feelings.
I drew into myself, the reality of the situation sinking in. “Nick’s in trouble.”
“Fuck!” a voice belted out. Nick, in his jersey, his hair dewy with sweat, panic written on his face. “I thought you walked out—”
I swallowed. “No, no, I—I didn’t—”
In three strides, Nick crushed me into a hug, squeezing me tight. I couldn’t breathe and I especially couldn’t when he lifted me off of the ground.
Nick released me and I stumbled on my sneakers before he hugged me again. “I’m so sorry—”
“You lied to me,” I stammered. “You’ve been lying to me.”
Nick’s face was torn. “I didn’t want to—”
“Tomasini’s coaching, he’s with the team—”
Nick drew me away to a quiet corner. “It’s okay, Tallulah—”
“It’s not okay! He was yelling at you—how long has this been…?” I trailed off, blinking. I knew the answer. I knew how long Nick had been exhausted, how long his extra practices had been scheduled, his flimsy excuses. “That’s why…oh my god.”
“It’s okay,” he reassured me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t mean what I said in there, I promise—”
“I don’t care about that!” I gestured towards him. “You need to drop out of the Blades!”
“What?” Nick glanced back, eyebrows knitted together. “Shit, I have to get back—”
“No, you have to leave. Now! Do something, get out of your contract! Go back to Marrs!”
His eyes slid to mine, his words careful. “I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
“I. Can’t. Leave.”
Why would Nick Kurosawa of all people put up with Tomasini’s behavior? Nick was easy, laidback, nonchalant. Cocky and self-assured. How did he end up in this mess? And why couldn’t he leave?
A thought nudged me. One I was afraid to say outloud.
“You’re not…staying because of me?” I finally asked, dumbfounded. “No, that’s ridiculous, you wouldn’t—”
Nick shifted. Silent.
“No, I—no,” I stammered. “You can’t put up with this because of me. It’s not worth it. You have to go, now, drop out of the Blades. Promise me that you’ll go—”
He was quiet. “Sweetheart, I can’t promise that.”
Nick was staying in Canada so I’d have a place to live during my internship. It was incredibly stupid. Dumb and ridiculous and the worst decision he’d ever made in his life—and it was unbearably, horrifically sweet. Sickly sweet like poison.
Blood rushed to my face. I had nothing intelligent to say to him.
I was so scared for him, and so enamored with him, and stunned at what he was doing for me, because…my feelings weren’t knotted together. They weren’t complicated. My feelings were a stained glass window I’d always assumed I couldn’t look through, and now…the truth was so clear.
I was falling in love with Nick.
I wrapped my fingers in his jersey and yanked him down to kiss him. Nick gasped in surprise and I deepened the kiss, frantic. Unable to express what I wanted to say because there was too much. Too much emotion. Too much feeling. Too much of everything.
“Nick!” Gordo shouted. “Let’s go!”
Nick took my face in his hands, kissing me harder. He finally relented, pulling back. Where words had vanished, blushes increased tenfold, and I burned under his careful gaze, holding mine.
One second Nick was touching me, and then, he left with Gordo, stealing a last look over his shoulder.
“Oh my god,” I mumbled. “I’m falling in love with him.”
Finally revealed, the love was a thousand butterflies inside me, fluttering at their exposure. I’d been so blind before, thinking I’d be fine with some secret fuck buddies arrangement back at Marrs. I couldn’t imagine that now. Love poured off of me. I couldn’t contain it, couldn’t hold on to it.
I stumbled to the bleachers, head spinning.
“Do you feel better?” Jennifer asked.
What an astounding question. I gave her a blank look. “I—um—yes?”
I shuffled among the women, taking my spot between them. Everyone was excited for the game to begin again, calling out to each other, laughing, taking pictures, while my world upended.
A laugh rocketed from the aisle across from us. My eyes slid to Joe Tomasini, guffawing at something a fan said. His eyes were bright, he was smiling, he was happy.
That motherfucker was happy.
My fingers curled into my palms, nails biting my skin. I’d been upset, but never like this. I wanted to physically hurt him. Cause him pain. I wanted it so fucking bad, it was a metallic taste in my mouth, the adrenaline urging me forward.
I loathed him.
It was hard to stay in my seat. It was hard to think about anything else. This fucking asshole was hurting the man I loved and it was so difficult not to scramble over the seats and do something about it.
The fact that Tomasini could do this and get away with it made angry tears prick at my eyes.
If—no—when I won the project for my internship, I’d have to interview Joe Tomasini and write a profile on him.
How the fuck could I do that?
And if I couldn’t, what could I do?