37 - Wesley
Wesley
I wake up warm. Nathan is behind me with his arm slung over my waist and his face tucked into the space between my shoulder blades. His breath is slow and even, brushing my skin every time he exhales.
It’s the kind of peaceful moment that makes you want to stay still so you don’t disturb it. I let myself settle into him, the blanket acting as a cocoon hiding us from the world.
For one dangerous, perfect second, I let myself believe this could last.
The room is quiet and peaceful. Our heartbeats are pounding in a synchronized rhythm.
My muscles ache in the best way, and my mind is soft around the edges, still wrapped up in last night.
We said and did things that went far past whatever our arrangement was meant to be.
Today, we would have to figure out if we want to keep this going. I don’t know what the right answer is.
I almost close my eyes again.
Then the sunlight hits.
It’s bright, not the gentle gray light of early morning, but golden, slicing through a gap in the curtains and landing directly across the bed. My stomach drops before my brain catches up.
No.
I twist to see the bedside clock.
8:02 a.m.
The warmth evaporates instantly, replaced by pure, white-hot panic.
“Shit,” I gasp, already throwing the covers off myself.
Nathan stirs behind me, groaning softly. “Mmm… five more minutes,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and affection, making my skin prickle even as I spiral.
“I’m late,” I choke out, scrambling off the bed.
My feet hit the carpet, and I nearly trip over myself, wrapping the sheet around my body as if modesty matters when my entire future is collapsing in on itself. My heart is in my throat.
Where is my phone?
I spin in place, scanning the room. Nothing.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, yanking on my underwear, then my dress, hopping on one foot as I shove each leg through the opening. My hands are shaking. “Where is it?”
“What?” Nathan asks, sitting up abruptly now. He blinks at me, still half asleep, a lazy smile pulling at his mouth when his eyes land on me. “Hey. Morning.”
I don’t return the smile.
That’s when he knows something is wrong.
“Wes?” He rubs a hand over his face, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“I was supposed to meet him,” I say, voice already climbing toward hysteria. “I was supposed to meet the head coach for the Futures Camp at seven for a one-on-one session. Seven.”
Nathan’s expression changes immediately, sleep burning off as reality snaps into place. “What time is it?” he asks, already swinging his legs out of bed.
“Eight.” I toss the pillows off the couch, my phone still missing.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah.” I shove my feet into my shoes without bothering to sit down. “I overslept. I missed it. I fucking missed it. How could I let this happen?”
“Okay. It’s okay.” He’s moving fast now. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Nothing about this is fucking okay.” I whip my head toward him, panic etched into every muscle on my face.
“You’re right.” He nods, standing up off the bed.
“This isn’t a workout, Nathan. This is… this is everything.” My voice cracks.
“I know.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. He’s already pulling on his jeans, searching the room. “Where’s your phone?”
“I don’t know.” Tears are dangerously close to spilling over, but I block them out. “I can’t find it. It must’ve died last night.”
He crosses the room in two strides and bends down by the nightstand. “Found it.”
He holds up the black screen. “Dead,” he confirms.
I press my palms into my eyes for a second, wishing I could rewind time. This is my worst nightmare.
Nathan’s hands land on my shoulders, but they don’t settle me the way they normally would.
“Hey. It’s not over yet.” His voice is soft, but tight as if he’s already drawing conclusions in his head. “Where’s the session?”
“The field across town.” I meet his eyes, only to find too many questions hiding in their depths. This isn’t the time.
“Then we go,” he says simply, pulling open the hotel door. “Now.”
We’re out the door seconds later. My dress is half-zipped, and my fingers fumble with my car keys. The adrenaline buzzing between us could start a fire. The hotel hallway rushes past as we jog toward the elevator, neither of us saying what we’re both thinking.
Last night was supposed to be the end. This was never supposed to happen. I’d been a fool to think there would be any outcome other than this.
Now, morning has come crashing in, loud and unforgiving, demanding everything from me all over again.
I don’t know what it’s going to cost when it comes to my career, but I already know it'll cost me him. I can’t have that and him too. It was stupid to think I ever could.
We hit the garage at a near run, footsteps echoing off concrete. The air is cold and damp compared to the warmth we left behind upstairs. Rows of parked cars blur together until mine comes into view.
Nathan slows first.
“Let me drive you.” He’s already reaching for my door. “You’re shaking.”
I stop short, keys clenched in my fist so tight it hurts.
“No,” I snap.
The word comes out harsher than I mean it to, sharp enough that his hand freezes midair.
“I need to drive myself,” I add quickly, but the damage is already done. My chest is tight, and my breath shallow. “I can’t show up with you. Not late. It looks bad enough without you there.”
The underlying implication passes between us. His presence makes this worse.
He blinks. “Wes, I just meant I can get you there faster.”
“This is the reason I’m late in the first place.” I motion between us.
The second the words leave my mouth, I want them back.
It’s not his fault. I know that. Rationally, I know this is on me. I didn’t set an alarm. I didn’t charge my phone. I let myself forget who I’m supposed to be. But panic has taken the wheel, and it’s not interested in fairness.
Nathan’s face falls, and I ignore the way my heart squeezes in my chest. He doesn’t bother to mask the hurt in his eyes, and I wish I could be the one to fix it. I wish I could go back two hours and make sure I didn’t screw everything up. It’s too late for all of it.
He straightens, shoulders squaring. It takes him a second, but then he nods once.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Yeah. Okay.”
I fumble with my door, hands unsteady. He steps back, giving me the space that I asked for, but it feels wrong.
“Good luck,” he adds. “Let me know how it goes.”
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
We both know I won’t.
This is it. Missing this session is exactly why I never wanted this to become more than an arrangement. This is what happens when I let myself get distracted and forget that everything I want is one mistake away from slipping out of reach.
I slide into the driver’s seat, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. My hands are still shaking as I start the car. The engine roars to life, and I pull out of the space, tires crunching softly against the concrete.
At the ramp, I glance up into the rearview mirror.
Nathan is still standing there watching me leave. My throat tightens, but I don’t stop.
I drive out into the morning light, heart pounding, knowing with painful clarity that last night was real. It was the most real thing I’ve ever felt, but it might’ve cost me everything I’ve never been able to afford to lose.
I make it to Harborlight Stadium in fifteen minutes.
I don’t remember most of the drive, other than the gas station two blocks from the stadium, where I climbed into the backseat, shedding my dress to pull on my backup gear.
By the time I pull into the stadium lot, my hands are sweating on the steering wheel. As I pull into a parking space, I see them.
Coach Folley is walking out of the stadium doors, coat already on, with his phone in his hand. Coach Bennett is beside him, mid-sentence, both of them slowing when they spot me sprinting across the lot.
“Coach,” I call, breathless. “Coach, I’m so sorry.”
They stop.
I skid to a halt in front of them, words spilling out before I can slow them down or make them sound composed.
“My phone died. I swear it was charged when I went to bed, but then my alarm didn’t go off. I know that sounds like an excuse, but it’s not. I’ve never missed a session. I take full responsibility.”
Coach Folley looks at me. His expression is calm, but his mouth is pressed into a thin line that tells me he’s already decided how he feels. He glances at his watch, and my chest hollows out.
“That may be,” he says evenly. “But this was important.”
“I know, and I’m ready now. I will take any time you have. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Anything.”
Coach Bennett stays quiet beside him, her presence suddenly heavy.
He exhales through his nose and shakes his head once. “I have a flight to catch. I can’t stay.”
Dizziness clouds my vision, and my hands tremble at my side.
“I understand.” My voice is tight, and I barely hear it over the roaring in my ears. “I want you to know how seriously I take this camp. This opportunity means everything to me. I assure you that despite today, I’m locked in.”
His arms cross over his chest as he studies me for a moment longer.
“I hope so, because focus and preparation are not optional at this level. Come camp time, I expect better.”
That’s it. He’s made up his mind about me, and it’s not positive.
He nods once to Coach Bennett and turns toward his rental car, suitcase rolling behind him.
I stand there and watch him go.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I’m still going to camp, which is a small mercy, but the one person I need to impress already thinks I don’t belong there. He thinks I’m unreliable, and unreliable people don’t make it onto the National Team.
Coach Bennett doesn’t speak right away.
She waits until his car disappears from the lot before turning back to me, her gaze sharp but not unkind.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
I swallow, pulling at my sleeve.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be.”
She watches me for another second, like she’s deciding how much weight to put behind what she says next.
“This isn’t like you. You’re one of the most disciplined players I have.”
I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat.
“When I told you it’s healthy to have a life outside of soccer. I meant it.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “But you are the last person I thought I’d have to remind that it can’t come at the expense of this. Soccer still has to be the priority.”
My heart might’ve broken into pieces when I drove away from Nathan, but now, those pieces cut into every part of me, leaving nothing whole in their wake.
I nod again because it’s all I can do. My mind is spiraling, replaying the night in brutal, perfect detail. We’d taken our time, neither of us wanting to let go. It hadn’t occurred to me once to check the clock or set an alarm. I was too lost in him.
And just like that, I’d forgotten the very thing I swore to never put second.
If I had walked away when I was supposed to, I’d have been early and prepared. I would’ve been exactly who they expected me to be.
Instead, I let myself want something other than this. I take a deep breath, resigning myself to the fact that I don’t have that luxury. Maybe someday, but not now.
“I won’t let it happen again,” I say, forcing the words out with conviction. “Ever.”
Coach Bennett searches my face. “Good.”
Then she turns and heads back into the stadium, leaving me alone in the parking lot with the consequences of my own choices.
I get into my car and shut the door, the silence pressing in on me immediately. My phone lights up as I plug it into the charger.
One new message.
Nathan: I hope it went okay. Please let me know if you’re alright.
Tears prick at my eyes, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t fight them off. They trail down my cheeks in a stream that picks up speed the longer I let it happen. My head falls to my steering wheel as the sobs rack my body, wringing me dry until there is nothing left.
I’m not sure how long I let them fall, but eventually, the tears dry against my skin, making it tight.
For a second, my thumbs hover over his message, muscle memory begging me to respond. To let myself have one more moment. I could give us a soft ending instead of the sharp one from before.
But I don’t.
I lock the phone and drop it face down in the console.
A clean break.
That’s what this has to be.
Missing this session is exactly why we had an expiration date in the first place. We each got what we set out to get. Even without my response, he knows as well as I do what comes next. Distance. Space.
My future is fragile, and I will not gamble it away on feelings, no matter how real they felt in the dark.
I start the car and pull out of the lot, leaving whatever is left of us where it belongs. Behind me.