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I see someone unblocked me on socials

Yeah, kinda regretting that at the moment, though.

Damn, already?

Remember her?

A picture comes through of me and two girls I was tagged with my freshmen year. I immediately realize why this particular picture bothers her.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t like that.

Yeah, ok.

I’m serious, Berkley. I never touched her.

Honestly, seeing Nikki at Texas Tech made me sick to my stomach. She was so insignificant, but her presence served as a constant reminder of the night that everything spiraled between Berkley and me.

Clearly, based on this picture.

You know what I mean. Never more than a friendly hug.

I’m trying here, Nate. Trying to believe everything you tell me. Trying to remind myself of the ways you’ve shown me you care since you’ve been back, but then I see shit like this. And my mind is racing. It's just hard for me to believe a girl who you happened to meet the night we broke up has you tagged in multiple pictures, and nothing ever went down between you two.

Where are you? Can we meet up so I can explain? I promise it’s not what it seems.

I’m going to class.

Fuck. If she only knew. Part of me contemplates showing her more of my thoughts I wrote in my playbook during that first year, wondering if the rawness would help her process or make things worse. This is all so fucked up, and it’s my damn fault.

I know it seems sus. And she did seek me out. I was initially nice to her since I had met her before, and I felt obligated to be kind. But if you notice, the pictures stop fairly early into the first semester.

The first night she came on to me, I passed it off as her being drunk. The second time, I told her it would never happen between us and to keep her hands off me. She never tried again.

I was a total dick to her, if I’m being honest.

We still have so much to talk about. I want to answer anything running through your mind.

Her silent treatment unsettles me enough that I find myself searching back through the first journal my dad gave me.

Rereading the entry makes my gut churn and briefly takes me back to a headspace I don’t want to be in again. I contemplate ripping it out and leaving it on Berkley’s doorstep, but I’m not sure it will have the effect I want it to.

“I hope we have this weather for Saturday’s game,” Graham says as we take our food out into the courtyard.

“Me too.” The campus really is something beautiful, especially this time of year as the leaves start to change. We don’t usually have time to relax like normal college kids on campus, but Coach told us to take an extra hour today for ourselves in preparation for our home game in a few days.

When Graham asked if I wanted to eat with him, I knew I could use the distraction after my last text to Berkley went unanswered.

“You good?” Graham asks, examining me in a way only he does.

Glancing at the UTZ bag of chips I bought myself for a taste of nostalgia, I nod. “Yeah, brother.” Not wanting to unload my shitty mood on him, I lie. “How about you? Lots of chatter about who’s going to pick you up in the draft.”

He sets his sandwich down and smiles at me. “It’s surreal, ya know.”

I can only imagine what that feeling will be like for myself after next year.

“If you could go anywhere, who would be your first pick?”

“The kid in me says The Commanders. You remember how obsessed I was with them.”

I smirk, because I do. We used to talk so much shit to each other.

“But honestly, I think I could really help build something with The New Orleans Phantoms. I like their style a lot, and I think they’re building a dynasty down there,” he shrugs. “But we’ll see how the combine goes in February.”

Patting him on the shoulder, I say, “Middle school us would be fucking proud.”

He chuckles. “Fuck yeah, they would.”

Across the lawn, blonde braids grab my attention, and the pit in my stomach grows into a gaping hole at the sight of Berkley smiling up at Carter.

“Speaking of middle school,” I growl, resting my elbows on the table as I bury my face in my palms. But because I’m a glutton for punishment, I look in their direction again, right as she throws her head back, laughing.

What hurts the most is I know this isn’t for show. I have stupidly convinced myself that the other times I’ve seen them together have been part of her ploy to torture me. Apparently, delusional is my middle name. Because I know that smile and this is her being naturally happy in her element with him. And I feel physical pain watching them together.

She smiles when he tugs on one of her braids, and I’m almost certain my heart is bleeding into my throat. I’ll choke on it at any minute.

“Breathe, dude,” Graham says gently, placing his hand on my shoulder, and I do my best to listen, but I can’t take my eyes off them.

There’s no way he loves her the way I do. Maybe I didn’t make the right decision two years ago, but without a doubt, I did what I did because I love her, not for any other reason.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking.” Graham turns his attention away from there.

“How can I not, Graham?” I trace my finger across the soft velvet scrunchie on my wrist, using it as a reminder of the progress I’ve made with Berkley.

I’m a selfish fuck, but I want to be the one making her smile, taking her to lunch, holding her at night. Not him or anyone else.

Finally breaking my view of them, I look at Graham. “Imagine loving a girl more than anything. More than football, more than yourself. And then picture you have to break up with her because some bullshit your parents created, and now you find out it didn’t protect her from the pain like you assumed it would, and you’re back in the same town, but she’s dating a guy who’s hated you over some dumb shit since middle school. A guy whose eyes always lingered on her a little too long when you were dating.”

Graham’s expression morphs into one of surprise. “Ya know, that’s the most you have ever shared with me about you and Berkley’s situation?”

I do know this, and now that Berkley knows, I don’t have a problem telling him everything, but not right now, not when I can barely control myself from walking across this courtyard.

“I’m not going to ask you to elaborate, but I am going to tell you what you’re seeing over there isn’t what you think.”

My gaze flits back in that direction. Berkley tosses a piece of food up in the air and Carter tries to catch it, making them both laugh. They look pretty fucking chummy to me.

“You forget, I used to make her laugh like that. I used to be the one she gave that attention to.” My hands shake as I grab my Gatorade to take a sip, trying to calm my nerves down.

“No, you forget I was there for that. And I’ve seen this relationship she has with Carter since the beginning too. Trust me, he has always wanted her more than she wants him. They were truly just friends for a long time, and what you are seeing right now is them as friends.”

I don’t want him to be anything to her.

“Well, I fucking hate it.”

“I get that, but you can’t just come in here and expect her to drop everything for you after all the shit y’all have been through. Give the girl some time.” He pauses, looking back at her before back to me. “I have a strong feeling she’ll find her way back to you.”

His words ease the turmoil brewing inside of me. Only slightly.

“I know you’re right, that she needs time and space. It's just hard for me. Now that we’ve talked about everything, it's hard for me not to want it all to go back to how it was, because I’ve never stopped loving her.”

He rolls his lips like he’s contemplating his next words. “Take a closer look at them.”

My stomach twists, scared of what I may see this time, but I do as he asks. They each sit on separate benches, seemingly eating their own lunches now.

I focus back on Graham.

“If that was the Berkley I witnessed in love, she’d be on the same exact bench as him, barely giving each other any room. Literally feeding each other, whispering words in between bites. And don’t forget the unforgettable PDA you two always put us all through. Neither of you could keep your hands or your eyes off each other.”

I watch them for a few minutes, letting his words settle. A renewed hope stirs inside of me, and I stand, grabbing the bag of chips off the table.

“Oh fuck, that wasn’t your invitation to go do anything,” Graham says with wide eyes, grabbing my arm.

“I’ll play nice.” I shake out of his grasp, but I hear his big frame shift out of the picnic table and follow me.

My long strides take me across the courtyard faster than I can think this through.

A surprised Berkley meets my stare.

“What’s up, Outlaw?” Graves tries to act casual, but I hear the bite in his tone.

“Looked like you two were having a friendly lunch, didn’t seem like we were interrupting anything,” I retort as Graham walks up.

And I’m going to punt your ass right back into the friend-zone.

“I was craving this flavor so bad…” I open the bag and pop one in my mouth, savoring it. “Mmmm,” I moan at the taste, and I don’t miss the way Graves’s eyes zero in on my hair tie-clad wrist.

Take a long, hard look, motherfucker.

I set the bag of chips down in front of Berkley, smirking when she looks up at me. “But since it's your fave, I’ll share.”

The look in her eyes tells me, if we were alone, she would give me a piece of her mind, but she’s treading lightly with Carter and me in close proximity.

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

“You guys enjoy the rest of your lunch,” Graham, ever the peacemaker, says, squeezing my shoulder.

Only because I don’t want to piss her off more, I relent.

“Have a good day, BB.” I wink and follow Graham back across the courtyard.

A few hours later

Your little stunt at lunch wasn’t necessary.

What? I was just being sweet. Did you enjoy the chips?

Yes, thank you, but I’m serious. I told you I needed time.

I’m trying, BB.

I am too.

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