Holding On – HL Miller
HOLDING ON
HL MILLER
ABBY
Micah’s phone buzzes, and we all freeze. He answers, his voice low and controlled. My chest tightens, my pulse pounding, muscles tense as I wait to hear which NFL team will change my boyfriend’s life.
“With the tenth pick in the NFL draft, the Minnesota Northmen select Micah Williams, quarterback, Southern California University.”
The commissioner’s voice booms on stage. Cheers from Micah’s family and friends erupt around us in the green room. He hunches in his chair, speaking to someone from the team on the phone.
The noise echoes around me, but it doesn’t break through the whirlwind of my thoughts. I’m happy for him, how he’s achieved his dreams, but my heart tightens as I picture the miles stretching between L.A. and Minneapolis. My worst-case scenario just played out: being at SCU without Micah.
My new reality slams into me, knocking the air from my lungs.
Two years of shared routines, late-night study sessions, and lazy Sundays, all gone with a single announcement.
The NFL could change everything: his lifestyle, his priorities, maybe even us.
We’ve never been apart for more than a few days.
With a year of college left for me, I’m scared of how this distance will affect us.
Micah ends the call and turns toward me, grinning.
“So, Minnesota.” The word tastes foreign. My fingers dig into the couch cushion as if they can tether me to something solid.
“Hell yes, Minnesota!” He pulls me into a hug.
I clutch him, savoring this fleeting moment before the NFL pulls him away. His solid chest presses against me, the familiar warmth momentarily unraveling the tight coil of dread in my stomach. His steady heartbeat should reassure me, but all I hear is a clock ticking down.
Micah releases me too soon, turning to hug his parents and younger brother. I watch him as my world crumbles. Tears well, and I look away, unable to fully share their joy. I blink rapidly. For months, I hoped for an L.A. team, or at least one on the West Coast. But that fantasy is over.
Micah shares a bro hug with Grey, his best friend, their grins identical. He’s living out both their dreams right now, with Grey hoping to be drafted next year.
He returns to my side, his eyes shining, his smile wide. I have to pull myself together, because I can’t be the one to dampen his mood. “Congrats, Micah.” My voice shakes, but no one notices the heartbreak beneath my words. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, baby.” He pulls me close, his lips brushing mine.
I cling to him, finding comfort in his kiss, as sweet as the first time. But all too soon, Grey tugs at him. “Bro, you need to get on stage, shake the commish’s hand, and get your jersey. There’ll be plenty of time for kissing on your girl later.”
“Yes, Micah, they’re waiting for you,” his dad says.
Micah takes their advice, stopping to hug his coaches before leaving the green room. Once he’s out of sight, I shift my attention to the TV and watch him greet the commissioner on stage with a big hug and several enthusiastic back slaps.
I barely register the names that follow his.
My phone vibrates with quotes from his press conference and messages from friends.
Emmy, Grey’s girlfriend and one of my closest friends, texts excitedly.
My roommates, Kayla and Janelle, gush over Micah kissing me on live TV and how the WAG websites are already analyzing it.
I bite my lip. Micah isn’t the only one in the public eye now. Even the way I kiss is up for judgement. A text flashes across my screen from my mom critiquing my weird expression on TV as I watched Micah hug his family, and I flip my phone over.
After the first round of the draft is over, the car ride to our hotel is a blur.
Micah buzzes with excitement while I stare out the window, pushing down my fears.
It doesn’t work, because my hands are clenched the whole way back.
We don’t get a quiet moment alone until we’re in our hotel room, climbing into bed.
He rolls onto his side to face me, smiling, his blue eyes crinkling as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.
I swallow, afraid he’ll see my fear about the long distance pulling us apart. I cup his cheeks, hoping some of his joy will transfer to me.
He squeezes my forearm. “Come with me to Minnesota tomorrow.”
My eyes widen. “You’re going tomorrow?”
I thought we had more time.
“They want me there for a press conference and contract signing.” His grin widens. “They’re sending a jet in the morning. Babe, I can hardly believe this is real.”
“You deserve it. You’ve worked so hard.” I rub his cheek, my fingertips catching on the roughness of his stubble, grounding me in this moment with him. “Congrats again, Micah.”
“So will you come with me?” He moves closer, pressing against my side.
I tilt my head, considering, as my hands slip from his face.
We were supposed to fly back to L.A. tomorrow afternoon.
Missing two days of classes for the draft in Pittsburgh on a Thursday night seemed manageable, but staying away longer is another thing entirely.
“I have to give a presentation on Monday.”
I nibble my lip. If I were responsible, I’d go home as planned, because the presentation for my global marketing class is a quarter of my grade. But I want to be with Micah. It’s the last piece of him I’ll get before everything changes.
“We’ll be back in L.A. by Sunday night. You’ll be fine.” He rests his chin on my chest, looking up at me with his best puppy dog eyes. “I want you to see Minnesota.”
I sigh, gently brushing his hair out of his face, fighting the knot in my chest. The blond strands fall over his forehead when not styled.
He knows I can never resist him when he looks at me like this.
I can’t bear to turn him down, even though more travel could take a toll on my schoolwork.
But maybe I can study on the team’s fancy private jet. Maybe I can make this work.
His happy expression falters as I hesitate. The joy in his eyes dims a fraction and my stomach twists. “Okay, I’ll go.” My voice is soft, but my smile grows at his pleased reaction.
“Great.” Micah shifts over me, caging me in with his arms. “Now, how about we find another way for you to congratulate me?”
The hardness against my stomach makes his intentions clear. A welcome distraction from my anxiety. I lift myself enough to drop a kiss on his cheek. “I could go along with that.”
Micah chuckles. “Oh, you won’t just be going along with it.”
He claims my lips, shifting closer, wedging his legs between mine.
After several minutes of intoxicating kisses and touches, his lips trail down my body, warm and insistent.
He slides my panties down, his mouth replacing his fingers, coaxing me higher with every breath, every soft, heated motion.
The scent of his skin, musk mingling with the faintest trace of his cologne, anchors me.
There’s no distance between us, no uncertainty, only this shared pleasure.
The sounds of our breathing fill the room.
Soft gasps, whispered names, the faint rustle of sheets as our bodies move in sync.
I sigh, my body trembling in response, my pulse quickening as heat floods through me, a warmth that spreads from my core to every inch of my skin.
I’d rather lose myself in the bliss he offers than dwell on my worries about our future.
Micah’s here now, his attention, his focus, completely absorbed in me. His touch, his presence are all I can feel, all I want to feel. My body responds to him, drawn to the rhythm of his movements, craving more.
He brings me over the edge with his mouth, satisfaction washing over me.
Overwhelming pleasure takes my breath away, scattering my thoughts.
Then he makes love to me hard and fast, each stroke pushing me higher.
I eagerly follow, surrendering to the intensity.
His pace quickens, completely lost in me, as I find my release again before he follows over the edge.
“I love you, Abby.” His voice is soft, filled with affection, as he places gentle kisses across my face.
“Love you too.” I kiss him back, relishing how our lips cling together.
When he rolls off me and wraps me in his arms, I happily surrender to his cuddling. Falling asleep in his embrace is exactly what I need. I hold on to him, freezing this moment.
But the countdown has already started.
MICAH
Grey grins as I open the door. “Congrats again on getting drafted, asshole.”
“Thanks.” It’s the next morning, and being a top-ten pick still hasn’t sunk in yet.
I step aside to let him in, my pulse quickening, adrenaline buzzing under my skin.
Being drafted has always been my dream, and now it’s real.
This moment is the result of years of relentless effort, grueling workouts, injuries, and the constant pressure to lead my team.
Now, I get to share it with the people who’ve been by my side through it all.
“Emmy wanted to congratulate you, but you didn’t answer when we called last night.” Grey adjusts his backward cap.
I tip my head toward the bathroom, where the shower runs. “I was busy celebrating.” A grin spreads across my face. What a perfect way to end my draft day: connecting with Abby both physically and emotionally.
Grey glances at the door. “She going with you today?”
“Yes.” I rifle through the closet for a shirt for this afternoon’s press conference. My gray pants match all four of my remaining clean dress shirts, but that doesn’t make choosing any easier.
“Go with the blue shirt. It’ll make your eyes pop.” Grey laughs sarcastically until I elbow him in the gut.
He’s not wrong, though, and I slip on the steel blue shirt. The soft cotton brushes my skin, settling over my shoulders. I finish with the buttons and meet his gaze. “Thanks for being here.”