Jennie
I managed, somehow, to focus enough on my work to finish it despite the constant glances I couldn't help but cast at the business card sitting on the corner of my desk. I tucked it safely away into my bag before I left for the evening, heading out to the dark parking lot, lost in thought about what the coach had said to me, about the options he had laid out for me.
I got into my car, turned the key in the ignition, and headed toward my apartment. We all have to make choices in life. I sighed. I'd never allowed myself to properly grieve what I'd lost. I'd told myself it wasn't a big deal, that these things happened to people all the time, that it's just how life was. And that it was more important to move on than the come to terms with all that I'd been through. And maybe I'd been right about that. But it still felt like I'd left a door open somewhere and now the draft coming through was blowing me away from the things I wanted because I was afraid they would hurt me again.
I'd been fired and barred from my chosen profession for standing up for what I believed in, for following my instincts, the same instincts that had allowed me to chase after the star quarterback of the Los Angeles Chargers. I'd been cheated on by my long term college boyfriend, a man I'd trusted so much that I hadn't seen the obvious signs of his infidelity even when they were right in front of me. My heart had betrayed me. Time and time again. So how could I trust it now? Now, when everything I'd worked for was on the line. My mind was in such a mess that I absolutely don't know what to do.
I had reached my apartment without even realizing. I put my car in park and trudged upstairs, tossing my briefcase and bag onto the counter and hopping in the shower. I turned the water on as hot as it would go and tried to lose myself in the steam, to let the stress melt away for just a moment before I would have to exit back into the cold world beyond.
I dressed in a comfortable set of pyjamas and made myself a low effort quesadilla. I wasn't feeling in the mood for much more than stuffing my face with fried cheese and watching some terrible reality television. But, just as I sat down with my food and grabbed the remote, there was a knock at the door. I stood back up and went to it, throwing it open to find the quarterback of the Los Angeles Chargers standing in my doorway. Lisa looked up at me through her lashes, eyes pleading before she even spoke. The way my heart leapt at the mere sight of her told me one thing for certain, one thing I couldn't deny. I'd never really had a choice and I know what I have to do.
"Mino tried to fight me downstairs," Lisa said softly, carefully. I crossed my arms and leaned against the threshold.
"Did you hurt him?" I asked.
The ghost of a smile fell upon Lisa's lips as she answered with a shrug, "Not too bad." I pushed myself off the doorframe and stepped back inside my apartment. Lisa took the hint and followed, relaxing much more now that she had made it so far as being invited back into my home. It was a clear indication that she had a chance of convincing me whatever she was here to convince me.
"Look, you're right. You aren't like those girls," Lisa said once she had entered. I raised a brow and listened. "But that's the point. I don't know a lot about relationships but I know that you fight. No matter how much you care about each other, how much you want to be together, you fight. But only because you have something to fight for."
I saw the hurt in her eyes, the fear that I was sure was reflected in my own, and something else there as well. A need, a longing, a desire for something that wasn't physical. For more. For me.
"So if this is our first fight, okay," she added, taking a deep breath before she continued. "But if it's over..." Lisa never got to finish her sentence.
I took three steps to close the space between us and reached out, placing both hands on her chest and clutching her shirt to pull her into me. I kissed her. She kissed me back. I felt every nerve inside of me ignite as one of her hands went to the back of my head, gripping my hair, and one went to my waist. She held me tightly, closely, like someone trying to hold on, fighting to keep me.
