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I need to get this phone to her fast before I do something catastrophically stupid like ask her if she wants to see the room.

Staring at her in the shadows of the streetlight, just steps away from my front door, I can’t help picturing what that would be like. I’d lead her up the creaky stairs, and we’d laugh as we tried to be quiet. I’d turn the little lamp on my dresser on to keep the lighting low. She’d tell me she likes the quilt on my bed. We’d walk over to look out the window. Our arms would touch.

I’d look at her.

She’d look at me.

We wouldn’t need to say anything else.

“Here.” I can’t meet her eyes as I thrust the phone into her hands. I feel her fingers brush mine for a second, and it’s pathetic, but even that seems like it could make me gasp if I let it.

I don’t know what happened that night Ethan broke up with her, but it woke something in me that I can’t put back in the dark. I’d always noticed her before. Anyone would. She’s hot and cool and funny, and the way she moves on the field is breathtaking. It’s a combination of grace and aggression I’ve never seen in a player before. She’s triumphant.

It’s never a surprise to see her score an impossible goal; all anyone can ever think when they watch her play is of course. Of course the ball went in the net. Of course she made that pass. Of course she got around the defence. Her movement seems inevitable, free from dependence on anything around her.

Just like the sea.

I always noticed her, but I never let myself want her like this. I cut myself off. I kept distance between us. I barely even spoke to her outside of practice because I knew from the second I saw her just how dangerous the pull I felt could be. I fought it for so long I could convince myself it wasn’t there, but now it tugs on my limbs even when she’s not around, dragging me closer to her shoreline.

“Thanks. So, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

I nod and swallow down the lump in my throat. “We hit the field at eight.”

“I’ll be there. Sorry again about tonight.”

“Hope, it—” I falter for a second when something shifts in her face at the sound of her name. “It’s okay.”

She nods.

“Have a good sleep.” Her lips twitch. “In your shack.”

I laugh for a little too long. I’m so tense my muscles are starting to ache.

“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

She heads back the way she came, bobbing along with her hands in her pockets just like she did on the way here. I shouldn’t stand here watching her until she’s out of sight. I should turn around and head inside to close the door on all of this as I pull it shut behind me.

But I don’t.

I’m still standing there long after she’s gone.

* * *

My alarm goes off at a quarter to six. The soft chimes are supposed to gradually wake me up, but my eyes fly open long before they’ve reached their full volume. I fumble for my phone and shut the sound off so I can lay on my back in the quiet for a moment.

The grey light outside filters through my curtains, giving my room a dim glow. The space is small, just big enough for a twin bed, a desk, and two dressers sandwiched together, but it was close to campus and fit my nearly non-existent housing budget.

The house is silent as I lay there and watch the quilt my grandma made rise and fall where it’s pulled up over my chest. With so many people packed into the units, this is about the only time of day there isn’t some crashing and banging coming up from the lower floors.

I stay under the warmth of the blankets for another minute before I force myself out of bed. I pass the collection of art prints I got at a Halifax craft fair and the big mirror I have propped against one of the walls to make the room look bigger as I head for the bathroom.

I have my morning routine so down pat I’m pretty much on autopilot until I get out the door: brush teeth, drink smoothie, eat weird protein muffin thing, change into running clothes, tie shoes, grab keys, leave house.

It’s an overcast morning, so there’s no dramatic sunrise to greet me, but the temperature is hovering right around perfect for a morning run. I smile to myself as I start stretching in the front yard. It’s the first day of the first ever lacrosse summer training camp—the training camp Coach Jamal and I worked so hard to organize and get approval for.

When I got a scholarship from the Canadian Women in Sports Association after being accepted at UNS, I also won an annual donation to the team’s funding. That’s a big part of what took us from being barely more than a glorified intramurals team in my first year to where we are now: poised for a real shot at winning the ECULL Women’s Championship this season. Just the thought has me tearing up the sidewalk at a speed way too fast to maintain for my whole run.

I know we’re not playing in some huge, internationally regarded varsity league like I would have been if I’d accepted the invitation I got to go to school down in the States, but that’s never stopped me from giving this team my all.