“But, please, Covee, don’t try to understand me. Don’t make something out of us that could hurt you. You can hurt me all you need. I want you to come away from what we are feeling relief. Not disappointment. I wanted us to have fun when we started this. I wanted you to smile more and cry less.”
“Why are you pushing me away when last night we literally couldn’t be any closer?”
“I’m not pushing you away, Covee,” He stepped closer. “I’m keeping us at the same distance. Not pulling back. Not moving forward. I don’t think I can give you more than that.”
“Why?” I crossed my arms on my chest. “One minute you’re asking me to wear your jersey number and the next you’re telling me not to act like I care about you. Should I just have sex and then roll over and pretend like you’re not in trouble? Pretend you’re only good for sex?”
“No, that’s not…” Weston ran his hand across his face. “Sorry. I’m so bad at communicating this.”
“So try harder, Weston.”
He took a deep breath. “I like this. How we are right now. The jersey numbers are just numbers to me. I thought it’d be fun to have you wear them. I’ve never had anyone in the stands solely supportme. You don’t have to be my girlfriend. I don’t have to be your boyfriend. I want to be here for you. Whenever. Until you don’t want me anymore. Until you’re ready to move on to someone better.”
I stared at him. “I didn’t realize you were this allergic to a serious relationship with me. You won’t even consider the possibility of this being more than sex? More than you being on call?”
“You don’t want a serious relationship with me, Covee.”
“How do you know what I want?” I challenged. “You’re doing what I do, making assumptions.”
“Fine.” Weston threw up his hands. “Do you want a serious relationship with me? Honestly? Knowing full well that I hurt people in exchange for things. Knowing that I enjoy doing what I do. I find power in it and I don’t want to give it up. Being with you would mean I’d have to give it up or rope you in. Do you want to be roped in?”
I let out a shaky breath. I wanted to scream or cry or punch something. We were too deep to go back. I wanted him and he wanted me. Why couldn’t it be that simple?
“You can’t do that!” I complained.
“Do what? Tell you the truth?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s what we agreed. Apparently, you don’t want to accept it. I’m not hiding from you, Covee. What you see is what you get, and that’s why I’m only offering part of me. The good part.”
“You’re going to stand there and pretend like I created this problem? That me wanting more is ridiculous?”
“No, it’s not… This doesn’t have to be a problem.”
“You drew me in and now, you close yourself off. It’s frustrating,” I told him.
“You’re telling me you’ve shared every bit of your being with someone?”
“No, but I share the important parts,” I confessed. “The messy, ugly, important ones. The people I care about know my darkness. And I…”
Weston stared at me and waited patiently. “You?”
“I care about you, Weston. I can’t turn that off. And I don’t think it’s too much for me to want to be there for you in more ways than one. I don’t think it’s too much for you to reconsider there being an ‘us’ outside of sex.”
He was silent. His eyes had strayed over to my window. A group of people walked by, yelling in full ‘Westbrooke U’ attire. The campus was waking up and already pumped for the game. And their quarterback was inside some girl’s dorm having a stupid argument. I swallowed back the guilt of distracting Weston from his game.
“Look,” I told him. “I know you have a lot to do today. Let’s table this.”
Weston nodded with a clenched jaw. “Will I see you tomorrow tonight?”
There was pain in his eyes. My chest hurt, so I nodded in affirmation. My response seemed to lift a little weight off his shoulders. He placed a kiss against my forehead before going to open the door.
“Good luck,” I told him.
“I’ll see you soon, Covee,” he promised.
I receivedan email from my father when I stepped out of my apartment. After Weston left, I planned to dedicate my afternoon to creating something in the design lab. I needed a distraction from everything. I suppose sometimes you got what you asked for in tenfold. My gut ached at the thought of opening the message, so I aimlessly walked instead.
The people I passed were blurry blobs, buzzing with life and freedom. My thoughts jumbled into nonsense as I tried to escape the burning sensation of my phone in my pocket. The tension in my shoulders spread to my back, making it near impossible to carry my bag. Suddenly, my chest felt like it was caving in on itself. I found the nearest bench and sat with my head between my knees.
This would be my third panic attack this year. They never got easier, but at least I knew what to expect. I knew I wasn’t dying, even though my heart pounded, and my vision spotted with colored dots. I tried my best to focus on one thing but couldn’t grab onto anything.
