As the crowd empties the arena, I stand up, the noise of the crowd around me dissolving into a distant hum as I make my way out of the stands, clutching the railing for support. The memory of his gaze burning into mine sends shivers down my spine.
Alex just said he loved me. The game has been over for a good ten minutes, and the crowds have all but left, but I’m still reeling from the shock of it all. After what happened between us, I thought it was over. I thought he’d never speak to me again.
“What are you going to do?” Jenna asks again as we make our way into the lobby.
“I don’t know. I—”
She blinks and gulps at something behind me, making me look. I turn to find Nathan standing across the vast space. He's stopping to sign autographs, but he's looking at me, and I'm struck by the vulnerability in his eyes. I wish he would stop it. I'm sure his fiancé will be joining him at any moment, and the thought is like a dagger to the chest. I can't see that.
“Come on,” I say, tugging on her sleeve in order to get away.
Jenna hesitates. “But don’t you want to talk to—"
“No.” I quicken my pace, leaving her behind.
She struggles to catch up to me. “You obviously still feel something for him. And the way he’s looking at you, the feeling’s mutual,” Jenna says as she falls in step with me. “Why don’t you—”
“Why?” I stop and practically shout at her. “What’s the point? He’s with Natasha. He made his choice. If I talk to him, it’ll only dig the knife in deeper.”
Her eyes fill with remorse. She's about to say something when the sound of footsteps on the pavement halts her. We both look to see Nathan running for us. "Lila! Wait up."
I sigh and look for my car. No escape. Groaning, I say, “Don’t you have to talk to Coach Lawson about the strategy for game two?”
He shakes his head, still trying to catch his breath.
“Or maybe you have to help Natasha with the wedding plans?” I mutter.
His eyes fill with something that looks like hurt. Good. It can’t be as bad as the pain I’ve felt. “No, I need to talk to you.”
Jenna looks at him, then at me. “I guess I should leave you two alone,” she says as he stops short in front of us, before heading toward her car.
He watches her walk away, and then says, “So is this what you want?”
“Please, don’t,” I snap. Because how can he think I want this?
He stops.
I close my eyes and heave a sigh. “I am so sorry. Sorry I said those things about you being boring. It’s not true. You’re not. No, you’re not a five-alarm blaze, but those things burn out quickly. You are a steady flame. And—that’s better. Natasha is very lucky to have you,” I say, managing a smile despite the tears welling in my eyes.
His face falls. “So you and Alex—”
I hold up my hand. I don’t know what will happen with Alex, but all I know is that I ruined everything with the man in front of me. And that hurts so bad, I can barely breathe. My pulse quickens, a staccato rhythm against the silence.
“Please, Lila,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. His sincerity wraps around me, an embrace I find myself wanting to lean into and run from simultaneously. “Let me explain. That ring—”
“No, Nathan. It won’t do any good. Natasha is great. And she deserves someone who loves her fully, without hesitation,” I manage eventually, my words feeling hollow as they tumble out. I’m speaking about Natasha, but the truth is, I’m also speaking about him... about me.
Nathan’s face falls just a fraction. But instead of throwing out a rope, I’m watching the current take us further apart.
“Is that really all you have to say?” he asks, a tremor of desperation lacing his words.
I take a step back, the move instinctual, a need to put some distance between the gravity of his plea and the chaos swirling inside me. Nathan’s features are etched with confusion and hurt, and it pierces me sharper than any blade.
So without a word, because no words seem adequate for the turmoil inside me, I turn on my heel and walk away.
When I’m in my car in the empty parking lot, I wipe at my eyes, steeling myself against the sorrow that claws at my chest. The truth is, there is no moving forward from this without leaving scars—on them, on me.