Chapter 10 #3
So why is it all starting to feel like an endless slog that I would rather eat my cleats than go through?
I take another sip of my protein shake.
Whatever. It’s just a case of senioritis, it can’t last forever.
All I have to do is perform well at the combine, that’s it. Show the scouts what I can do and prove I’m worth playing in the big leagues.
The music suddenly drops in volume.
I blink and realize Colten turned it down.
He glances over at me, the headlights catching on the sharp angle of his jaw in flashes of light and shadow. “So, what’s your plan at the combine?”
“Play soccer,” I say.
“Wow, revolutionary,” he says flatly.
“I like to keep it simple.”
He sighs, but it’s fond. I think. “You need to stand out.”
“I’m six-four. I already stand out,” I point out.
“Not like that,” he says, shaking his head. “You need to be intentional with how you present yourself because scouts aren’t just looking for skill. They’re looking for consistency and discipline, someone who will make their team stronger.”
I nod, listening, even though he’s said this all before.
“And be careful not to overextend yourself,” he continues. “You push too hard when you’re trying to impress people. That’s how you get sloppy.”
“Hey, I’m never sloppy,” I argue.
His eyebrows raise, even as he continues to stare at the road. “You tripped over your own foot while doing tricks at the party.”
“I was drinking, which I will definitely not do at the combine,” I promise.
He glances over, gaze sharp. “...Good. Anyways, about networking…” He keeps going on about which scouts I should look out for, which teams are more likely to need my strengths, and a whole host of other well thought-out ideas on what I can do to make the most out of the combine.
I listen to it all, watching him fondly, because this is what he does. He takes care of me, helps me when I don’t know what to do, and keeps me pointed in the right direction when I'd probably wander off into traffic otherwise.
Going pro has never been just about me.
For the last three years, Colten has been the reason I kept going on the days I didn’t want to. With every training plan, every meal, every PT session he wouldn’t let me skip—he’s been there for all of it.
Ever since we promised to work together with Colten being my personal PT back in freshman year, I realized I couldn’t imagine my future without him. I still can’t.
I can't imagine reaching my dream without turning around and finding him standing beside me.
He’s part of my dream now. He has been for a while.
***
By the time we pull into a rest stop, the sky is bright with stars, and my eyes burn from exhaustion.
We recline our seats as far back as they’ll go, which is…not far enough, but I’m too tired to care.
The world outside is quiet and still. Just the hum of distant cars and the occasional flicker of a streetlight.
I stare up at the ceiling of the car for a second.
Then I turn my head. “Hey.”
Colten makes a tired, noncommittal noise.
“Thanks,” I say. “For coming with me. For…everything.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, softly, he says, “Of course. Now go to sleep, Patrick.”
I close my eyes.
Before opening them again.
“We’re still best friends, right?” I ask, quietly.
Colten sighs. “Yes, we’re still best friends.” He takes a deep breath before adding, “But…we should stop being…intimate. Kissing.”
I frown in the dark, turning my head toward him. “But why?” I hate the slight whine in my voice, but I don’t take it back. I need to know.
He doesn’t answer.
“I don’t get it,” I say, frustrated, the tightness in my throat back. I don't need to kiss him to be happy. But... “You like it, I like it. Why is it bad?”
Is it me? I don’t ask.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I’m still tired, somehow weighed down by a whole day of sitting, but my heart is pumping fast. There’s confusion, anger, and some other tight emotion I don’t quite understand clawing in my chest and demanding to be heard.
I want to know, no, I need to know why he keeps putting distance between us.
Silence stretches between us, and I wait with patience I don’t have.
Finally, he says, “I don’t like to share.”
I blink.
“That’s it?” I say. “You know I don’t date more than one person at a time. That’s how you get STIs and also a broken leg. Remember Andrew?”
“…I’m not discussing Andrew right now.”
“I’m just saying, I’m responsible.”
He exhales sharply. “It’s not going to work, Patrick.”
My throat gets tighter. I swallow painfully.
“Why?” I ask, my hands clenched into fists to resist reaching over and shaking him. “How can we make it work?”
“I told you,” he says, a little sharper now, “I don’t do temporary. I’m not going to be some convenient hook-up for you in between girls.”
Oh.
Oh.
I go quiet for a second, letting that settle. Is that how it sounded, this whole time? I flush in shame.
“…Okay,” I say slowly, stomach twisting with guilt. “Yeah. That’s—okay. I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry.”
He shifts in his seat, turning his back towards me. “Whatever.”
“No, I’m serious,” I say, pushing myself up on one elbow so I can see him better in the dim light. “That was selfish. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He doesn’t respond, the dark outline of his body tense.
He already told me that he doesn’t do temporary.
But…we have never been temporary. Besides, if I could kiss Colten, why would I want to kiss anyone else?
Taking a deep breath, in the darkness of the car, I say, “I can’t imagine finding a girl better than you.”
He freezes, his body going still in his seat. “…What?”
I smile at him, even though I know he can’t see it, because I thought it was obvious. “I’ve dated, like, most of the girls on campus. None of them are as cool or as interesting as you.”
“…Patrick.” He turns around, staring at me, his eyes faintly reflecting the street lights.
“Think about it,” I tell him, waving my hand over him. “You’re smart, funny, and you actually get me. Honestly, I’ve always thought it would make the most sense to date you.”
He just continues to stare at me.
“And now,” I say, because if he’s not going to interrupt, I’m just going to keep going, “with the whole spell thing making me attracted to you, it’s like, perfect, you know?”
He makes a strangled noise, which I take as encouragement.
“I mean, we already know we work,” I say, waving a hand in the air. “And you’re going to be my PT when I go pro, so we’ll be together anyway. It just makes sense.”
His face is doing something I can’t fully read in the dark, but he looks…overwhelmed?
“So, that’s that,” I finish, settling back into my seat and feeling satisfied. The tightness in my throat finally eases. “Unless you truly don’t enjoy being with me, which I doubt, then there’s no need to worry about it too much.”
I lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Colten.”
And then I close my eyes, content, at peace, and resolved.
There’s a long, long silence.
And then, very quietly—
“…Jesus Christ,” Colten mutters.
Or maybe he just wheezes.
I’m already basically asleep, so who knows? All I know is happiness, assured that Colten and I worked through the misunderstanding, and that Colten will stop thinking about such unnecessary things.
Maybe we’ll even be able to make out again, soon.
Maybe this lame spell has some benefits.