I stare down at my phone and the text message that’s currently on the screen. It’s from Jesse, of course, letting me know that he’s leaving now and if I want for him to wait for me, then I just have to text him.

But what to do?

It won’t take much to get my thumbs to move across the keyboard and answer him with a yes or no. So why am I stuck thinking of the right answer? There’s no right answer, and it would be good to take a break from seeing him today. So I go with option two and text him that I’m good without him and he should have a good night, but thanks anyway.

And then I think about him going home to an empty house and start to get sad about it.

I don’t even know how to deal with Jesse on a regular basis, and I definitely don’t know how to do that if he has some sort of crush on me. Maybe I was the easiest target, the one in his line of sight, but it’s happened, and he can’t change how he feels, and neither can I.

Now I feel hollow, like I had something to look forward to all week and my plans fell through last minute. It’s my own fault, though, so I have to suck it up. I stifle the millionth sigh of the day, get my bag from the bench beside me and leave the locker room with one of the staff ladies, Linda (actually), who waves me off and wishes me a good night.

I get outside, looking at the empty parking lot like it’s gone and physically wounded me when I don’t catch sight of Jesse, or his car.

Well, what did you expect? You told him no. Is he supposed to be a mind reader when you can’t even make up your own mind? What the hell?

I’m right, obviously, so with another stifled sigh, I get onto the shuttle and zone out for the trip to my apartment, take the stairs up, get inside my apartment and lock it behind me, all on autopilot.

I think it’s time to call my mom.

After I get changed, brush out my freshly washed hair from the locker room, and decide in the end not to take a bath, I settle in my living room, turn on the TV for background noise in my tiny apartment (is that what Jesse does when he’s all alone in his house, put on some show not to feel so alone?) and dial up my mom’s current cell phone number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom, it’s me. Your only child.”

“Good thing you’re my favourite,” she snickers, and if I did the math right, she’s three hours behind London time and might be sitting down to supper.

“Shit, did I interrupt supper or something? I can call back.”

“No, not at all. I’m having a cup of coffee and watching the sky turn pink and orange. It’s so beautiful here.” I hear her sigh, and it sounds nothing like the ones I’ve been having all day. She’s happy, content, glad, all those words wrapped up in the sound of her expelled breath.

I feel a little warm glow inside my chest, and I smile against my phone, wishing I could see her, wishing she could see me.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

I could go the route of not telling her that anything is up, that I called for no reason, but it would just be a waste of time, and I can’t muster the effort to even sugar-coat what I’m feeling right now. “Uh, so, I’m having a guy problem. Not that he’s the problem, but I think I’m the problem.”

We both know that my mom could say something like ‘nonsense, you’re perfect,’ but that would be a waste of time and energy and I really just want to get straight to the point. I’m almost twenty-one years old, and I sort of know who I am, and my mom definitely knows who I am—there’s nothing to be afraid of here.

But my heart’s beating hard, and I’m squirming in my seat, and then I finally just blurt out the whole thing in practically one word. “So I started training with this guy on the men’s team, Jesse Windmeier.”

“Oh, I know Jesse Windmeier. He’s cute, if that’s who you’re talking about,” she interrupts, and I mash my lips together to keep from squealing. My mom knows of him. Shit.

“Yeah, so we started training together. I sort of pushed him into it, you know? I just wanted to learn all his tricks, and I thought that after being injured, he’d help me get back on my feet because he’s been benched for the longest time, can’t seem to get his head straight, and we’ve been spending time together, and he told me last night that he likes me, that he looks forward to seeing me every day,” I say, running out of steam.

“And?”

“And I don’t know what to do about it, that’s what.”

I can almost hear my mom smiling. “Oh, honey.”

“No, no, no. You cannot ‘oh, honey’ me, this is not a cute situation. I’m nervous, I don’t want to see him, but I also want to see him, and he’s somehow supposed to be telepathic enough to read my brain waves. This is driving me nuts. I thought I would have time for this later, there was going to be time for this after I retired.”

“After you retire? So you mean if you get to play ten, eleven, maybe twelve seasons with the league, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, thirty-three, maybe? You were going to wait that long to experience a relationship?”

“Shit, Mom, it’s not like I’m going to die without it. Darwin said so, or somebody equally as important. I don’t need to fall in love to experience life to the fullest right now. I need to get better, I need to be the best.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“Why what?” I scroll back in my head to see what she’s picking on now.

“Why do you have to be the best?”

I sigh. This is an old conversation that I wasn’t expecting to have tonight. “Mom. I just need advice on what to do with Jesse.”

Mom’s quiet for a whole minute, but I can still hear her breathing against her phone, so I know I haven’t lost her. “Be honest with him, but don’t lead him on, either, because that’s not fair and no one deserves their feelings to be played with like that.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Mom.”

“And be careful. Please. I don’t know what it’s going to mean for you since he’s a famous footballer, and you’re on your way, if people will recognize you, but it’s something to think about. Falling in love with another person is hard enough, but you don’t need to do it in front of millions of people who can’t mind their own business.”

“So, what should I really do?” That’s code for that’s not the answer I’m looking for, try again.

“Tell him where you’re at, honey. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But what if he gets angry?”

“Then you kick him in the balls with those record-breaking legs of yours and make sure he can’t breed his asshole genes into the next generation.”

I laugh, hard enough that it becomes a weird witch’s cackle, and I snort and laugh all the harder. “Mom, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Maddie. I’ll come visit once you’re back on your feet, okay? You let me know when your first game is and I promise you I will get front row tickets.”

“You know I can get those for you.”

“Front row, though, Maddie. I want to see you up close, not up in the nosebleeds.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks for talking with me, Mom. You’re the best.”

“And I gave birth to the best, don’t you ever forget it.”

I grin hard enough to hurt my cheeks. “I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m beat, so I’m going to let you go and I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye, kiddo. Give him hell.”

I hang up the phone, laughing to myself in my small apartment, looking at the TV screen without seeing the episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, when my phone vibrates in my hand, and I see I’ve gotten a text message from the devil himself, aka Windy.

Windy: Did you get home all right?

Me: Yup. On my couch right now. You?

Windy: In the living room, on the couch. Can I call you?

Me: Uh, sure.

And then my phone vibrates in my hand, flashing WINDY (with a little blowing wind emoji because it’s apt and not because I like it there or anything) on the screen, and I have a moment of panic before I tamp it down and swipe to get the call connected.

“Hi,” I say, and damn, does my voice sound like that, all breathy-like? I clear my throat, chasing it away.

“What are you watching?” Jesse asks, his voice in my ear, closest that he’s ever been to me, even if we’re separated by a whole phone connection. I shiver and I’m so glad he isn’t here to see that.

“Are we going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“Weird.” I lay it all out there, looking around my empty apartment as if someone else will be witness to this awkward as hell conversation.

“I’m not the one being odd. I’ve asked you a question, you’re the one that hasn’t answered.”

I sigh, nice and long and full of suffering. “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Figures.” I say, ready to start putting mental tally marks in the pros versus cons list I should write up for Jesse as a potential boyfriend, with a huge amount of emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’. “Thanks for offering me a ride today. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I don’t mind, you don’t live that far from me, and we finish late enough that I worry.” It does get darker earlier and earlier now.

“You worry? About someone else other than yourself? Wow. Who knew?” I hear him laugh, and I settle on my back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, snuggling into the blanket I have draped over me.

“I do worry. I’m not all that bad.”

I’m quiet long enough for the silence to stretch out long and thin enough that it’s going to break by me saying something dumb.

“I’m really not,” Jesse says, his voice almost a whisper, and he’s so close to my ear, that if I close my eyes, I can pretend that we’re lying next to each other, side by side, close enough to share a secret.

My whole body flushes at the thought of having him so close, so close to me. I wouldn’t know what to do, how to be, especially with someone like him. The guy’s probably tumbled half of London right about now, which is fine, since I know women want him, and as long as no one’s trying to rope in someone else, whatever.

But I wasn’t going to do this now, I don’t have the time or energy to be with someone while I’m trying to be the best. How can I?

Maybe that person would have to understand what it’s like chasing that same dream, huh?

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I say, opening my eyes because his voice alone is giving me the shivers. I don’t even know what it would be like to have a guy hold me close, not even in a sexual way because that scares the crap out of me, but just to be close, for comfort, to know that someone cares enough about me to hold away the loneliness. I think he wants to be that for me, or he wants me to be that for him.

Would that be so terrible?

I don’t have to fall in love, I can keep a part of myself for me, keep it behind a closed, locked door where no one can touch it. And when he gets tired of this, when I get tired of this constant strain on my time, on my training, on my mental health, I can let him go, and I can unlock that door and take that piece of me back. I’m not going to be so dumb as to give it to him—that would be torture, to have a guy like Jesse Windmeier holding my heart.

I didn’t intend to snort out loud until it actually happens, and Jesse asks me what’s up, and I mumble ‘nothing’ because what else am I going to say? I’m going to give this whole crush thing a go? How do we start?

Nope. Not today. Not right now.

“I can do that. Do you want a ride to the stadium tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t that cause problems for you?” I’m blowing smoke up his ass, my ass, I don’t even know. I’m shuffling backwards and forwards, toeing the line and getting psyched up to crossing it but never following through. You gotta risk it to get the biscuit, right?

“I don’t know what kind of problems bringing a friend to work would cause. Isn’t carpooling good for the environment?”

I grin up at my ceiling. “Right. I’m game if you are. What time should I be ready for?”

We make plans to meet up the following morning at my place, and then that’s it, plans are made, and I’ve decided on a course of action.

I’m stubborn as hell, and no matter how this turns out, I’m going to be seeing it through to the end. If I look back on this decision years from now, will this be the crossroads that makes or breaks me? Will this be that moment I can definitely say where it all started, or where it all ended?

Is this the beginning of the end?

I close my eyes, frustrated with myself for giving this too much headspace.

I’m sure guys never have to think about this shit, the lucky jerks.

I want to be the best, I also want to fall in love someday with someone who appreciates me and isn’t trying to steal my money, I want to be a mom someday, and I can’t do that right now if I’m going to be the best—there’s only so much time in the day, so much energy. Something has to give, always, and for me, that just happened to be the whole relationships part.

I was always training in high school, and I didn’t have time for boys, not if I wanted to get better, be stronger, be faster. I needed to be the best, and when I was, I had to go and be the best somewhere else. The mountain I was supposed to climb got climbed, only for me to find another mountain to trudge up. I’ve always been like that, so why am I considering this right here, right now?

Because Jesse told me about being lonely? Was it really that simple, that easy?

Yeah, Jesse Windmeier is kind of beautiful, and he’s incredibly talented, which makes him even more attractive. If only he knew how to talk to people, to stop keeping everything behind a wall of his own making. Jesse’s got the talent, he has the money, he has the good looks. For most women, that’s a keeper, and for some reason, he seems to like all my pestering jokes and my hilarious sense of humour, even when I’m ragging on him ninety percent of the time.

I guess he’s got it bad for me, because I’m a lot to put up with; he will always come second to my sport, to the first love of my life.

Am I really going to do this?

You gotta risk it to get the biscuit.

Now I just have to figure out how to be the best damn girlfriend ever so once I do that, and that’s over, I can move on. I can say I tried it and it wasn’t for me right now, that there are more important things to consider—aka my career. Once I accomplish this goal, there’s always going to be something else I want to accomplish, something bigger and better that I have to be the best at.

So Jesse’s just a stepping stone really, and I think I can live with that. I can safely stow away my heart in a vault, giving a spin of the wheel to lock it, keep it there until this plays out, until I see this through.

Why do you need to do that, though?

Because seeing Jesse at the end of training is the highlight of my day, too. I would be crazy not to see how this would go.

Just once, I’m going to see how this goes, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll know I tried, right?

I sigh again and drag myself to bed, trying to ignore the thunder of my heart and the lightning in my veins and the way I’ve definitely crossed a line this time and there’s no going back.

Not for me, and not for Jesse.