I may even love him.
Oli shifts in his seat, coughing. “He seems like a nice guy,” he says, trying to cut through whatever’s happening between Atlas and me. The thing is, I don’t give away my trust lightly. I’ve been burned too many times before. But there’s something about Felix that centers my heart.
It’s rare for me to feel like this.
I appreciate Atlas looking out for me. I mean, he’s been there through the nights I felt worthless. The nights I let the things my exes did bleed into me. Atlas was there. Atlas knows my heart like I know his.
With Felix I feel like I can free fall and know that the landing will be soft. He won’t hurt me. “Oli and Andre, now you and Felix,” he murmurs, taking a loud sip of his drink. The hazy look in his normally bright blue eyes has me on edge. What’s happening to him?
Being friends with Atlas is like riding a roller coaster. You go through ups and downs—extreme joy, sadness, and terror, in a constant loop that you get used to the longer you’re on it.
Only now it’s like the ride broke down on the edge of the first big drop and you have no idea when you’re about to plummet. “What’s going on with you?”
“Everyone is moving on. Finding their someone. Oli’s with Andre most of the time now on the road. You won’t be playing anymore. You’ll go to some home games and maybe have drinks with us, but it’ll happen less and less...” He stares down, drumming his fingers on the table. “Soon you two will just be people I used to know.”
What is he talking about? “Atlas. We will always be friends. You and Oli are my fucking family.” I bang the table in front of him, forcing his gaze up to me. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you’re worried that we won’t have time for you, that’s not gonna happen. We will always be there for you. You will never be alone. You hear me?” He swallows, shaking his head. The subtle eye roll pisses me off. This cocky brat.
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Oli reassures him.
Atlas picks at the table in front of him, eyes down. “When is someone going to love me?” The words are so softly spoken I almost think I misheard him. My friend may be a mess, but he’s the sweetest mess around. It’s going to take someone with a lot of patience and structure, but I have no doubt Atlas will find that person.
“You’re not even twenty-five. You have plenty of time to find your person. Hell, I’m thirty-three and just finding him. Andre and Oli are almost thirty. There’s no time limit. Don’t rush yourself. Enjoy your life.”
Atlas straightens in his seat, downing the rest of his drink. “I think I’m going to head back. Not feeling good.”
“Atlas—”
“I’ll see you guys in the morning.” He squeezes my shoulder as he gets up, leaving us sitting here alone.
“What the hell was that about?” I look at Oli. “What’s going on with him?” He opens his mouth but says nothing. I see it, though. It’s a tiny flicker but I catch it. He knows something I don’t. “What? Tell me.”
“Let’s head back. They’re probably almost done dancing anyway. It’s late.”
“Oli.” Instead, he stands. I follow him to the bar to settle our tab. “Drinks are on me.”
“Good man.” He squeezes my shoulders as we walk.
We head back up the beach to the hotel. “You’re not going to tell me, huh?”
“If it were you, would you tell?”
“No. But you’re not me. You’re Oli. Bad, bad Oli who spills secrets.” He laughs, holding the door open for me as we walk through the lobby. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“Atlas will be fine. He’s taking you retiring hard. He’s young. He thinks all this will be forever, but it won’t. Soon it’ll be his turn to retire. You know how dramatic he can be. He’ll be okay. You not playing doesn’t mean we won’t be close anymore.” He throws his arm around me leaning into me. “At least it better fucking not.” He pats my chest.
With his weight around me, it’s only now I feel my knee.
Or don’t feel it.
There’s no pain. “Holy shit.”
“What?” He pulls back.
“My knee.”
“Fuck, sorry.” He snatches his arm away. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” I laugh; I can’t help it. “I can’t feel anything. It feels okay.” Now that I notice it, I feel a slight twinge, but it’s nothing. Nothing compared to what it has been. What it was only months ago.
