His eyes followed me as I cleaned myself, planning to invite him to take a shower with me. I pulled my clothes back on, but then I halted mid-step when I took in his expression. His features were becoming stern, his mouth tight-lipped as he stared at one spot on the floor.
“No, wait. What?”
My eyebrows scrunched up together. He was gripping his phone too hard.
“You can’t be serious.” He rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. “No! I can recover in time! I can do this—”
His pained expression brought lead to my stomach.
“But, coach!” He looked like he would fling his phone away, breathing heavily. “Coach!” He looked at his phone and cursed.
“What’s going on, Liam?”
He dropped his phone on the bench press, furious. “He told me they can’t be certain I would be ready to play any time sooner, and even if I was ready, I would miss the preparations… They already need me there, but since I’m stuck here…” He looked defeated when he finally met my gaze. “I’m out of the Euro cup.”
9
“Fuck!” he yelled and punched the nearest wall, and I winced, taken aback by his sudden burst of aggressiveness.
“Liam! Calm down!” I came from behind him and placed my arms around his waist, but he didn’t even react to me, becoming madder each second.
“I can’t believe this. Soccer is my life. I need to be in the Euro cup. I need to play.”
I buried my head into his back, squeezing his waist. “I’m so sorry.”
He surprised me when he pried my hands off him and separated himself from me. I watched his tense form as he paced left and right, clearly still in pain because of his knee, but that didn’t stop him. His hands raked through his hair, his gaze bouncing around the room.
“If I can’t play, what will I do with my life?”
Something in me turned into ice—an existential fear I hadn’t experienced on my own skin but recognized very well.
I still remembered the guy who had been a hockey star and who had broken his hip. He desperately wanted to be back in the game, working his ass off to recover, but there were complications and he couldn’t continue playing anymore. He was twenty-seven at that time and without college or interest in anything else but hockey.
I stayed with him during those days, offering him support and cheering him up, but I couldn’t reach him. He fell into a deep depression and started using drugs and alcohol. The last I heard of him was that he had a huge fight with some of the press, who were calling him out for fooling around with no goal in his life.
I didn’t like seeing Liam in the same predicament. Although, Liam was more strong-willed and ambitious than this guy, losing something that was precious to him was painful nonetheless.
I wanted to calm him down and remind him that he wasn’t alone in this.
“Look at it this way—you’re going to use this time to rest well and recover completely, and then you can return even stronger for the next season.”
My soothing words fell on deaf ears.
“I already told you why I need to be there now. Why can’t you understand that?” He looked wounded, his guard up as he observed me with incredulity.
I placed my hand on my hip, losing the battle against my temper. I didn’t react well to other people’s anger. I wasn’t Claire. I had no idea how to stay calm when my anger levels spiked like sugar levels after a bottle of Coke.
“Look, I know it’s bad, and I know you’ve been counting on opportunities that were presented to you at the moment, but maybe you will get the same opportunities next year. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you through it and we will find a solution together. Okay?”
I could have been speaking to a wall with the way he was looking at me. He hadn’t even heard me.
“You’re not helping me now. You don’t even care about how I feel.”
I recoiled as if he had slapped me. Hurt rushed through me incredibly fast, claiming all of me. “What?”
“You don’t care that my world might be falling apart now. You just stand there and act if I’m being unreasonable.”
“That is not true! I—”
He headed toward the door. “I need to be alone. You’re only making things worse, and I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.”
That’s it. My temper flaring, I walked closer and halted in front of him, blocking his way.
“You’re acting like a prick! It’s all about me, me, me, and me! You don’t even listen to what I’m saying to you because you’re too stubborn! You wanted to risk an injury, acting like a spoiled child, and now that you’re out, you’re exaggerating!”
My words were too harsh, I could see that clearly on his face, but like a fast-approaching train, I couldn’t stop just like that.
“Is the cup that important to you? Do you really want to go to Europe that badly?!”
If I hadn’t been feeling this furious, maybe I would laugh at the expression of incredulity on his face that was beyond comical. I was lashing out without caring if I was going to hurt him or not because I’d had enough of this uncertainty between us.
“Then what about us, Liam? Hmm? What about us? Actually, is there “us” in this story? We have spent together all this time and you never told me how you feel about me. Do you even feel anything for me?”
I was shaking terribly, feeling the tears starting to surface, but I had no intention of letting even a single one out.
“Like, I know it was stupid from the start to get involved with you since you would leave sooner or later but still. I thought we had something. I thought we clicked. Now I know I couldn’t have been more wrong since all you care about is going back to your precious soccer. You don’t care that maybe, just maybe, I’ll be hurt because you’re leaving me.”
Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say all of this. I wasn’t supposed to reveal how I felt like this. This wasn’t the right time, and from the way he was watching me—like he couldn’t care less about my feelings—I realized I was just digging a deeper hole.
I should leave before I lost all my dignity.
“No, you know what? Forget it. It doesn’t even matter.”
Without even looking for his reaction, I left his place, carrying a mix of desperation and fury deep within myself.
10
Breakups sucked. We hadn’t broken up, but I was in the middle of a breakup phase—too emotional, angry, and burning with the need to stuff myself with copious amounts of junk food.
I hated men.
Ok. I didn’t hate them, but some of them were assholes who didn’t deserve women spilling their tears over them. Yet, I had lost count of used tissues because I cried all night long for Liam.
I couldn’t go to work courtesy of my stupid brain, which kept returning to Liam and reminding me that I fell for him too hard and now I had to deal with the consequences.
I had thought, foolishly—I knew—that despite his circumstances, he felt something for me. How could I explain all those tender glances he cast at me or the intimate moments we shared in his or my place? We had connected, and for the first time ever it was like I’d finally found my soulmate. And no, I wasn’t being sappy. There was something in the time we spent together that reminded me of how lonely I had actually been.
Now, I didn’t know what was worse. Not experiencing that special connection at all or having experienced it but losing it for good.
What a mess. Oh well. Hello wine, my old friend.
I grabbed the bottle and poured more wine into my glass.
“You look like you’ve been slicing a whole bag of raw onions,” Marissa said, seated on the couch across from me.
Ugh. Raw onions. One of my worst nightmares.
“This is worse than onions. Worse than period cramps, even.”
“Impossible,” Claire responded, sitting next to me. “Period cramps are the worst!”
Marissa grinned. “I don’t have period cramps at all, so I don’t know what you’re ta
lking about.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky?” I muttered and put a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
Claire and Marissa had come to my place to cheer me up, but so far they were failing miserably in their mission I called “Forget Liam, be happy”.
“I feel like crap,” I said.
I had told them about our fight yesterday, but so far they hadn’t put their two cents in. I took a large gulp of my wine, intending on getting tanked. I didn’t want to feel like this, and I counted on the alcohol to erase these stupid feelings, at least temporarily. I was tipsy, but it wasn’t enough.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Marissa asked me. “Those eye circles look creepy enough to scare any thief that might come to your door.”
“Nope. I couldn’t sleep a wink. Cheers to that.” I took another swallow, appreciating the rich taste of red wine.
“Get some rest,” Claire, always a wise one, advised. “I’m sure you’ll get better then.”
Yeah, right. If a good rest could solve everything, we wouldn’t have crippling depressions and other equally gloomy conditions.
“Do you have any other advice, Dr. Phil? Because I see you’re on a roll here.”
“Just that the two of you should have a nice, long conversation. Not an argument but a conversation. You’ve told him he doesn’t care about you, but how can you be so sure? What if he is conflicted? What if he actually likes you but has to go back to England, which stresses him out?”
I bit my lip, my doubt fighting for supremacy. I had reacted harshly, without giving him a chance to explain himself, but could things be different between us if he truly felt something for me?
“I don’t know.” I ran my hands over my face. “Now that I think about it, I know I reacted completely the wrong way. He’s dealing with a lot of things at the moment, and I was supposed to help him out, not make it harder on him. But then again, what about my feelings? How important am I to him?”
If it turned out that our time spent together meant nothing more to him than just a temporary pastime until he was back home, then… Then I didn’t know. Then I would have to find a way to move on. I would have to forget the fact that no matter how short it was, I felt something real, something raw that only he had made me feel.
“Give him some time,” Claire said. “He is too confused at the moment, which is only normal since he’s experiencing a major setback in his career. Anyone in his place would feel lost and insecure.”
“So you think I overreacted?”
“I think that he needs time to deal with his feelings. He can’t focus on his feelings for you—in case he has them—because he’s dealing with other things. In fact, and don’t get me wrong, I think you probably made things worse for him.”
“Worse?”
“Yes because not only he lost his place in the Euro cup, but he also lost you, and I’m sure he has no clue how to deal with all these problems in his life at the moment. I understand this isn’t fair for you because you deserve to know where you’re at, but you have to take into account that all he lived for until now was his career. Then you came along, and if he feels something for you, he has to adapt to this and reconsider his options.”
“I agree with Claire,” Marissa said. “I think he wouldn’t spend that much time with you if he hadn’t felt something for you.”
“He spent time with me because of his post-surgery rehab.”
“He could’ve picked any other therapist for the job. He picked you. I don’t think that’s meaningless.”
“So you both think he really cares for me?”
Marissa nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, girl. You might not have noticed it, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t see you just as a fling.”
“Then what can I do? Come on, I’m losing my mind here. Give me some advice.”
“Do you care for him? Like really, really care?” Claire asked me.
“Of course, I do. Why do you think I’ve bawled my eyes out for him? I’m wouldn’t waste my tears on someone that easily.”
Claire sighed, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Then fight for him. He needs support now more than ever, and you should be there for him if you really care for him.”
“Communication is super important,” Marissa added. “That’s the key each time Daniel and I encounter problems in our marriage. We talk it out and our relationship becomes stronger afterward. So if you want to get somewhere with Liam, you two should learn to be honest with each other.”
I grabbed another handful of popcorn and shoved it into my mouth. “I care for him, and I really do want to make things better between us, but what is the point if he’ll leave eventually? It’s obvious that soccer is what is most important to him. I’ll always come in second place.”
“You can’t know that,” Claire said. “He’s pretty confused right now, so I’m sure he himself can’t figure out his feelings, but if you give him a chance and let him reach the conclusion at his own pace, you may find an answer you hadn’t expected.”
“Will you lend me some of your optimism, please? Because I really can’t find a solution for this. To be honest, I’m not sure if I should continue seeing Liam. After all, our ‘relationship’ won’t lead anywhere since he has to go back.”
Marissa tilted her head to the side. “But you heard him—he’s out of the competition. So, this means he’ll stay in the U.S. longer. That is enough time for you to find a solution.”
“But what if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? I mean, I pretty much blew everything up when I railed against him.”
“Don’t be so negative, girl. That is so unlike you. Cheer up and take the bull by the horns. If you don’t even try to help your situation, you’ll only regret it sooner or later and ask yourself ‘what if’. If he rejects you or tells you he’s finished with you, at least you tried.”
“So you’re telling me that I have to make the first move?”
“Obviously. You’re the one who attacked him and didn’t even let him explain himself. So at least apologize to him.”
“Ugh. That is going to be so embarrassing.”
“But at least you tried,” Claire reminded me.
“Fine. I’ll call him.”
Luckily, I was drunk enough to make the call right away, burning under their attentive stares. It rang and rang, but there was no answer and my call went straight to voicemail.
Embarrassment and nervousness curled into a tight ball in the pit of my belly as I cleared my throat.
“Umm, hi. It’s me, Alison. I know that I blew a fuse yesterday, and I’m really sorry about that. Can we talk about it? Umm, call me. If you want. Bye.”
Now, that sounded awkward. With a slight blush, I ended the call and met their gazes.
“So what now?”
Marissa clapped her hands together. “Now, we’re ending this pity party and we’re going to have some fun together. Come on. Life is too short to waste time on heartaches.”
Amen to that.
11
The next day passed in a flurry of repeated calls and messages that Liam never answered, and worry was starting to settle in. What if he was already gone? Cold fear chipped away at me, and I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
I had convinced myself that was okay, went out to a club, and returned home at two in the morning hammered, only to come to the conclusion that it was one of the worst nights of my life. I had rejected several men, who offered to buy me drinks or wanted to dance with me, always comparing them with Liam.
Liam was taller. Liam was more handsome. Liam didn’t sound so lame. Liam’s lips were way more sensual. Liam, Liam, Liam.
His name was like a broken record, and by the time I finally gave up on pretending clubbing would do me any good, I was in the worst mood of my day.
Claire called to check on me, reprimanding me for chickening out that easily and giving up.
“What can a girl do?” I whined, sounding so unlike myself. Obviously, I
had fallen too hard for him. “I called him and sent him so many messages that it was bordering on psychotic, but he’s giving me the cold shoulder.”
“Look, I won’t let you give up on him that easily. He’s obviously in a pinch and doesn’t know how to feel or what to do. So, I’ll talk with Jared and ask him if he knows where Liam is. Then you can go and talk to him.”
It was easier said than done. I was a bundle of nerves the next time Claire called me, and I had to remind myself twice that I was a strong, independent woman and I wouldn’t let this minor hurdle stop me from going after what I wanted. If he hadn’t left the U.S., I would talk to him and see if I could solve our issue. If not…
“I’ve talked to Jared,” Claire informed me.
“And?”
“Liam is currently at the soccer field. You may still find him there if you go right now.”
My pulse turned erratic. So he hadn’t left the U.S. “Thanks. Did Jared tell you anything else? Like, is Liam okay?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself? Remember, you can do this.”
I repeated Claire’s words of encouragement as I dressed—a pretty navy blue sheath dress with the lace embedded at its sides and black wedges, which was definitely not the right outfit for the field, but I needed all the weapons I could get to win this. I left my messy curls the way they were, remembering he had once told me he was crazy about them.
I arrived at the soccer field just when the match was coming to its end. I found him in the first row, intently watching the game, and just seeing him focused like that brought me pleasant shivers. He was too beautiful, freezing me in place, and I needed a few moments to make my legs move.
I didn’t remember when the last time was I had been so nervous about speaking with a guy, which was quite ironic since guys were the ones who had been doing the chasing, not me. I never cared that much, always so poised during breakups that one would think I felt nothing.
Torn: A Contemporary Sports Romance (Pathways Book 3) Page 6
