But playing scared and favoring your good knee is easy for your opponents to spot. One trip, what wouldn’t have been a bad for another player, forces your hand in deciding to retire your skates.
Things started to unravel again. It felt as if high school was repeating itself. My ex dumped me. The next day Elliot and I got into a massive fight—luckily it only lasted for a week and not years.
On top of that, my major felt pointless, and I was back to the questions that started it all: what do I want to be when I grow up? Who is Sutton Davis?
In the moment, those first two years, it was easy to be upset. I wanted to do everything in my power to reverse time, but now,retrospectively, that wasn’t the college experience I was meant for.
This one…I can’t pinpoint why, but it feels right.
After my last class, I opted to study in the library. Spent the entire two hours researching stress in correlation to athletes and burnout. I ended up printing off three articles for Cooper before heading back to my apartment to meet him.
Elliot texted me on my way home, asking to check our mail. The key to our mailbox doesn’t work when I turn it. Staring at the black lockboxes with silver numbers, I laugh at myself. Lost in thought, I’m trying to unlock box number sixteen—my old hockey number—rather than our apartment number.
Two steps to the left, our mailbox is tucked into the corner. Unlocking the door, I tug out our stack of mail, smiling at the corner of a bright blue envelope sticking out. A key on a chain drops from the middle of the stack.
I guess neither of us have checked the mail in a few days.
The fallen key is for one of the package mailboxes. I locate the box, 3B, and pull out an unexpectedly heavy, medium-sized box.
Closing the mailboxes, I start to head upstairs. Cooper should be here soon…or now.
Over my shoulder, I hear him being buzzed in through the lobby doors by one of our neighbors. A senior education major who must have the sun embedded in her skin with the glow she continuously has. Her hair is the color of golden rays and eyes the color of the gulf.
I actively tune out their conversation, but it’s hard to ignore her body language. The manicured hand she places on his bicep, how she bites on her bottom lip after giggling. When she walks past me, the cherry red tint to her cheeks is obviously not make up. There’s a different pep to her step, almost a glide as if she’s on cloud nine from one minor interaction with Cooper.
A dull ache starts with each heartbeat, and an urge to throw up works through me.
Am I…am I jealous of her? No. Impossible. I can’t be. I don’t get jealous, and I definitely don’t get jealous over him.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I bite out, reclasping the reigns of my emotions.
Cooper shrugs, walking over to me. “It doesn’t take much to be a nice person.”
“Flirt,” I correct.
“That wasn’t flirting.”
I scoff, “Yeah, right.”
He takes a step closer to me, presses his lips into a line, pushing them out slightly and I wonder how they’d feel pushed onto mine.Get it together, Davis.
“Trust me. You of all people, Dave, should know what my flirting looks like.”
Is Cooper saying he flirts with me? If being a dick is flirting, then I may need to find a new dating tutor.
His gaze locks on mine, a deep depth of brown pulling me into them like a violent current.
There it is.
The chasm that separates us. The reminder that I’m standing on one side of a bridge waiting for him to waive the white flag, missing a part of me.
The hole that he used to fill isn’t this flattened surface. It’s jagged and when I try to patch it up, or fill it with someone else, I cut myself and I’m thrown right back to the reason why we are like this.
“She lives in the apartment directly below me.” He looks confused, then stifles a laugh. “For later.”
I turn to the stairs, heading for my apartment, my steps forceful, loud. He’s right behind me, the extra step putting us at equal height.
“You’re jealous.” Cooper’s smug voice is in my ear.
