16 - Nathan
Nathan
I’ve counted the days. Five. Five days since the bar and the night that was supposed to be ‘fake’, but somehow wasn’t.
Five days since I kissed her, her lips pressing into mine, making my brain go entirely offline.
And five days since she retreated into the kind of silence that makes me wonder if she’s going to call it all off.
Her trip home seemed conveniently scheduled, but maybe that’s my high hopes talking. She’s good at boundaries and compartmentalizing, so it’s probably a coincidence. There’s no way she’s affected the way I am.
It shouldn’t have affected me at all. I’ve been kissed plenty. Yet, here I am, pacing in front of the stadium before seven in the morning, the frost biting at my nose and my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
I hadn’t planned to come here yesterday by myself, but when I woke up before my alarm, staying away seemed useless. Our workouts over the past couple of weeks are some of the only times my mind quiets. And so, without Wesley, I ran through the drills she’s had me practicing.
It wasn’t the same, and I didn’t enjoy it nearly enough, but it was better than nothing. Plus, it distracted me from the endless calls from my parents.
I’m avoiding them, especially considering they’re only reaching out because they think I have a girlfriend.
It grates on my nerves that they have the audacity to call me nonstop about this, when they haven’t reached out once since the season started.
They live twenty minutes away and haven’t once come to a game.
So yeah, explaining my nonrelationship with Wesley to them isn’t going to happen. Ever.
If they aren’t willing to hear about hockey, then they don’t need to hear about anything else as far as I’m concerned.
Unfortunately for them, I kicked ass on Monday night. It was like I was my old self on the ice, making all the right moves at exactly the right times.
Actually, I’ve played well in all my recent games. They’d been fun. I wasn’t feeling the pressure or the same going-through-the-motion pangs I’d been battling for a while. Instead, I was feeling alive, like every push of my blades was new and exciting.
The same way I feel here with her.
My feet create an obvious path in the wet turf as I start getting anxious for her to show up. Every part of my body screams that I’m in too deep. When she finally appears, moving through the gate with slow, measured steps, I know that it’s not just my body that’s in too deep.
Still, I can’t help noticing every detail. The braided ponytail that swings with each step, the tightness of her sweatshirt clinging to her shape, and her eyes flicking to me while pretending to scan the field.
I take a couple of steps in her direction before forcing my feet to stop. What the hell am I doing? Five days of absence, and I’m unraveling as if I can’t function without seeing her. I am Nathan Wilder. I am not desperate. Especially not after a single kiss.
A fake kiss. It was fake.
“Morning,” I say, leaning against the bench.
She nods quickly, glancing past me. Her posture is rigid, shoulders slightly raised, and I can tell that today is all business. That’s fine, maybe even for the best.
We start with stretches. I try to keep my distance, but it only lasts a minute before my mind drifts into dangerous territory. It’s impossible for it not to when she’s moving so gracefully through our warm-up.
And that night… God, that night.
Seeing her like that and seeing her like this is confusing.
The Wesley who let me hold her on the dance floor and the Wesley who won’t quite meet my eyes during this workout are polar opposites.
My mind doesn’t know how to process that she’s the same person.
Even still, I haven’t seen a version of her that I don’t like.
I know she’s cautious for a reason. She’s never laid it all out, but there’s an obvious pressure to be perfect for her family. Considering she just spent multiple days with them, it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s trying to keep it strictly professional today.
It’s her way of resetting the boundaries.
I decide to make it my mission not to let her.
“Careful,” I say finally, sick of the silence between us. “You’ve taken some days off. You might actually break a sweat before I do.”
She snorts, a sound I’ve missed more than I realized. “Doubtful. You hockey boys don’t stand a chance against my cardio. You’ll be panting before me.”
The corner of my mouth lifts because she doesn’t realize I already am. “We’ll see about that.”
We move to sprints after the warm-ups. I stay a stride behind her, letting her set the pace.
She runs like she’s wary of falling too far into my rhythm or letting me get too close.
I mirror her, nudging her subtly when our paths cross on the track, letting my hands brush hers ‘accidentally’.
The touch is electric. She shivers. I can feel it.
“Trying to get me to trip?” She asks lightly, glancing back.
“Maybe,” I say with mock innocence. “But I’d catch you before you fell.”
She laughs, and it’s real this time, the tension in her shoulders releasing until it’s all but gone.
After the sprints, I suggest a long run into the woods behind the stadium. She hesitates for a heartbeat before giving a small, reluctant nod and falling in step beside me.
The crunch of pebbles beneath our sneakers is the only sound at first. She keeps her pace slightly behind me, letting me lead.
My peripheral vision is full of her, every curve of her shoulders and swish of her braid.
I fight the urge to close the distance and pull her closer.
I’d do anything to remind her how much I want her. She has to know by now, though.
“You’re awfully quiet,” I say finally.
“I’m pacing myself,” she replies between careful breaths.
“Or avoiding talking to me.” My tone is light, but she doesn’t shoot back with a witty remark, so I know I’m close to the truth.
Eventually, she admits, “Maybe a little of both.”
That’s all I need. That’s all the invitation I need to push a little further.
“Why?” I pick up the pace slightly as we round a turn. “Because I’m full of questions. Starting with, how do you always make running in the freezing cold look like a stroll in the park?”
She swats my shoulder, but there is a twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Practice.” She ups the pace further.
“You know where you don’t need practice?” I arch an eyebrow, glancing back at her. “Kissing.”
Her stride falters for a fraction of a second. Her face warms, and I know exactly what I’ve done. I’m not ready to back off yet.
“I mean, seriously, who knew that the ice queen herself could melt an entire bar with her fake kissing abilities. It’s impressive, really.”
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, half annoyed and half amused.
“I prefer insufferable.”
The woods open up to a larger path, the stadium coming back into view.
She moves up next to me, the silence between us brimming with tension. I notice the subtle things: the way her fingers flex with each stride, the quick inhale when I adjust my pace beside hers, and the almost imperceptible glances she casts in my direction when she thinks I’m not watching.
Once we’re back at the field, we run through some agility drills that she seems comfortable with.
I trip up on them more than I’d like. It’s further evidence that even as a professional athlete, with ten years of experience and championships under my belt, there’s still room for improvement.
Wesley’s constant pursuit of perfection brings out the drive in me, too.
Eventually, we cool down, walking laps around the field, stretching as we go. After a mostly quiet workout, I’m damn near desperate to get her to open up to me about anything.
“How was your family?” I ask gently, curiosity creeping into my voice.
She hesitates, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s hard, being back there. Comforting in some ways, but it reminds me how much everyone counts on me. Sometimes I just want to escape it all, you know? I wish I could completely ignore the responsibility on my shoulders.”
I nod, understanding more than I should. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I get that. My agent, my coach, hell, the whole city has pretty high expectations for me, and I’ve failed at meeting them for a while. I know it’s different, but…” I trail off.
“Yeah, it’s different, but pressure is pressure.” She looks at me then, a small spark of connection lighting her eyes. “You know, I’ve always been jealous of you. Well, not you, but like the Blades in general. We put in a lot of the same effort, and you all seem to reap a lot more of the benefits.”
“‘The path we take to play the sport we love does not come easily.’ You were right, it’s about time women athletes get more recognition.”
I smile, remembering how impactful I thought her speech was. Bidding on her training day hadn’t crossed my mind until she’d given her speech. Her looks may have been why I’d flirted, but it was her words that made me want more time with her.
She scrunches her eyebrows. “You remember my speech.” We’re both silent for a second. “I still mean most of it, but I’m starting to learn that just because there’s money and notoriety, it doesn’t mean it comes easily for you either. Sometimes it might make it harder.”
I plop into the grass, moving into stationary stretches. “The media can be a real bitch.”
“I’ve figured that out.” She slides down next to me, not bothering to create as much distance. “I had to shut down my messages because girls started attacking me for taking you off the market.”
“Oh damn,” I say, laughing only when I realize she is too. “I’m sorry about that.”
I mean it. She may have gotten us into this mess originally, but I poured gasoline on the fire. Though I’d be lying if I said I minded. It’s nice having a little more peace and a little less of the eligible bachelor narrative following me around.
“It’s not your fault.” She unlaces her cleats and slides back into her tennis shoes. “Besides, I get it. You are one hell of a fake kisser.”
My pulse skips, her words catching me completely off guard in the best way imaginable. “We make quite the pair.”
“For two people who are living out their dreams, we complain too much.” Wesley hops up, tossing her bag onto her shoulder.
I consider it for a second. It’s the dream, but the sacrifices and the pressure sucks. I know I wouldn’t give it up for a second, though. When my blades hit the ice, everything makes sense. It’s all worth it.
“Even living the dream comes with its downsides.”
“Yeah, it does.” Her voice is quiet.
I watch something like sadness cloud Wesley’s eyes before she chases it away.
I hate her tone. I hate that she won’t let me all the way in.
“Are you busy right now?” The words slip out.
Her eyes flick to mine, and she chews on her bottom lip. “It depends.”
I’ll take it.
“C’mon, you’ve kicked my ass enough for today.” I scoop up my bag and grab her hand, pulling her behind me as we head to the tunnel. “Let me show you what you’re helping me save.”