Chapter 5 : Pressure

*Noah*

When I wake up, the sun hasn’t even fully risen yet and there’s a beautiful blonde still sleeping in my arms.

Jane Thomas.

She looks so content, with her hair falling over her face and her chest gently rising and falling with each breath. For a second, I just stay frozen, watching her long eyelashes flutter slightly as she sleeps, memorizing the shape of her full lips and remembering what they felt like against mine.

Something stirs in my chest and I know that if I don’t get up and move soon, that feeling will awaken something else and I’ll end up missing practice completely. Careful not to wake her up, I gently pry my arm out from under her head and let her rest on a pillow. It’s colder in the morning, so I pull up my covers until her bare shoulders are covered.

I give her one last look over, appreciating the way her curves look wrapped up in my sheets before I make my way to the shower.

As I wash up, I mentally go over the events of the night before, trying to figure out how things happened so quickly.

I can still hear those pretty sounds she made and feel how perfectly her body fit against mine. I can still taste her and I know that I’ll probably never forget the way she looked just before…

I crank up the cold water and let the shock of it jolt my thoughts clean.

This is not going to work. I need to get a hold of myself. But when I get out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, she’s awake and sitting with her legs pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees.

God, how is it possible to look that magnificent first thing in the morning?

I smile at her. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she returns, surprisingly shy. She looks nervous like she’s not sure exactly what to expect. I can imagine that if her ex was selfish in the bedroom, he was probably just as much of a dick outside of it.

“The shower’s free if you wanna use it. I have practice at eight, but I can drop you off at your dorm before then. I’m sorry there’s no time to grab any breakfast,” I say apologetically.

She shakes her head quickly. “That’s okay. I’ll be happy with just the shower. I wasn’t really expecting that.”

There it is again, that slip of self-deprecation when she declines to receive something good. It bugs me. I frown, making my way over to her. I see her eyes rake over my body, still damp from the shower with nothing but a towel to preserve some decency. She flits her eyes up, but I’ve already caught her looking and it sends a shiver of satisfaction down my spine.

I sit opposite her, taking one of her hands in mine. “Look, I know things have moved pretty fast. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I don’t,” she replies quickly. She pauses, taking a deep breath like she’s steeling herself for something. “It’s not that I regret last night, Noah. Trust me, it was one of the best nights of my life.”

I can’t stop the proud smile that tugs at my mouth, which she chooses to ignore.

“It’s just that … Well, like I said, this is new to me. I know that we kind of spoke about it last night, but it’s very different when you’re not hopped up on post-orgasmic bliss and then reality sets in.”

“It was that good, huh?” I ask teasingly, and she rolls her eyes but her cheeks go bright red. It’s so fucking adorable.

“I’m being serious. I tend to overthink things and I don’t want to make this into something it’s not,” she continues.

“Jane, we don’t have to have everything figured out right away. We had fun. We like each other. We can just start there and see where things go.” I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Her shoulders slump a little in relief. “And while I’d love to keep you in my bed for longer, I’m unfortunately going to have to get my ass to practice soon.”

She nods, leaning over to kiss my cheek before getting up and collecting her clothes off the floor to take with her. As she does, my eyes follow her every move, hunger beginning to build. When she finally catches me, a wicked grin tugs at her lips.

“I’m willing to bet this apartment has a complicated shower setup and I’d rather not break anything. Care to help me figure it out?” she asks, the tantalizing offer already sending the blood rushing from my head to parts of my body that evidently aren’t as stressed out about the time.

“I think that would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” I muse, getting to my feet as she giggles and runs into the bathroom.

***

An odd sense of sadness hits me in the gut when I pull up outside of Jane’s dorm. I draw her in for a goodbye kiss, before placing another one on her cheek.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

She gives me a wide, sweet smile that I know is going to be the highlight of my day before getting out of the car and heading into the building. I wait until she’s inside before I tear away from the sidewalk and try to make up time. None of this was exactly supposed to happen.

But goddamn if she’s not the most gorgeous curveball ever.

Now that I’m alone with my own thoughts and no distractions, I can finally think about the gravity of what’s just transpired. I was never supposed to get into another relationship, not so quickly after Jessica.

From the outside looking in, people probably thought we were the perfect couple. To some degree, I guess I believed that too, until I caught her cheating on me. That kind of threw a wrench in the works.

A couple of my friends, being overall good dudes but generally shitty decision-makers, suggested I get out there again as soon as possible. But the truth was that the last thing I wanted was to jump into a rebound. I didn’t want to date for a while, and that had been the last thing on my mind when I stepped in to protect some random girl from Preston at that party.

But when the lights flicked on and I saw her for the first time, all of that just went out the window. The first thing I noticed were her big green eyes, the exact color to send me spiraling completely out of control and damn any plans I had of my own to high hell.

Then there was the rest of her —I swear it’s like she’d been perfectly carved into the perfect derailment. She’s beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes you hurt and stop breathing and not know what to do with yourself so all you can do is pray that you don’t screw it up.

But Jessica was hot too, something I had to remind myself to stay on track only for Jane to open her mouth and turn out to be so much more than just a pretty face.

She was funny, intelligent, driven, ambitious, and genuinely fun to be around. There was something warm about her, something comforting that made me want to simultaneously ease her burdens and fears, but also trust her with a few of my own.

Like I said, a beautiful curveball.

Jessica’s betrayal put me through a tougher time than I would ever admit to anyone, including myself. At least sober. But Jane … as cliché as it sounds, Jane just feels different. Speaking with her, listening to her, being with her is just different.

“Baringer, you are the world’s biggest moron,” I mutter to myself as I finally find a vacant spot, park, and rush to the locker room.

It’s basically empty except for a few guys who’ve just finished changing. They greet me before leaving and just as I approach my locker, I see Preston lurking off to the side. He’s sporting a very nice-looking black eye that’s swollen to boot. Lovely.

I grin at him.

I can literally see the rage wash over his face as he storms over to me, practically spitting with anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, getting in my business, Baringer?” he shouts right in my face. “You should’ve stayed out of it!”

I shove him back against the locker with my forearm locked under his throat. His head slams against the metal with a clank and his eyes pop wide with surprise and fear. I keep my voice level, even though every single word is deliberate.

“You know, if you weren’t such a creep, I wouldn’t have to.” His throat bobs against my arm as he swallows hard. “If you ever even so much as look at Jane again, you’re officially off this team. And that’s the kind alternative. Understand?”

Preston snarls before pushing away from me and stalking out, though we both know that he understands perfectly. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll take the message to heart. I take a breath to calm down and temper my anger when I hear a familiar voice call out from the entrance.

“What the hell was that all about?” Oliver Lankin, my best friend and usual buffer of my own poor life choices, looks shocked. “I mean, I don’t exactly like the dude but that was pretty intense.”

“He’s a grade-A prick.” Remembering that Oli wasn’t at the party and that I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Jane yet, I decide to start at the beginning. “He got drunk and tried to force himself on a girl at the frat party a few days ago. I got there just in time to sock him one.”

Oli gives a low whistle. “Okay, yeah. He definitely had it coming then. I wondered where that bruise came from and now I see it’s well-deserved.”

“You have no idea,” I say, turning to get the last of my things from the locker. “Jane was pretty rattled. I don’t even wanna know what would’ve happened if I got there even a minute later.”

“Jane?” Oli asks with a curious look.

“The girl I saved,” I explain.

Oliver wiggles his eyebrows. “And you know her first name? I’ll bet she was pretty grateful for the help.”

“Shut it, Lankin,” I snarl, although I can feel the dumb smile forming on my face despite my words.

“Well…?” he asks, folding his arms.

“What?”

“Are you gonna give me any details? An explanation? Nothing?”

“No.” I slam the locker shut and walk past him. “In case you forgot, we’re running late for practice.”

“I bet I know why you’re late,” he teases, but I just laugh and run out onto the field.

Warmups consist of running a few poles, then some basic stretches and finally playing catch, scooting further and further apart from one another. I can feel the familiar revving up of my muscles as my body falls into the familiar patterns of movement.

By the time Coach Parker calls practice to an official start, I’m ready.

I play like every round is the real game, hitting and catching every pitch. Everything else goes mute when I’m on the field. When you’ve spent your entire life training for something, there is no such thing as practice, not really. Everything is a performance, a test to prove yourself over and over again.

And I try my best until there’s nothing left behind but sweat.

Coach calls it for the day, but not before waving me over to the dugout for what I assume is feedback. If that’s what you call it. I’m still riding the high of practice when I make my way there, despite the knot of anxiety that drops like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

“What’s up, Coach?”

From the look on his face, I know it’s not good. There’s nothing surprising about that, I guess. It’s something I’ve gotten used to, the nitpicking regardless of what I leave on the field. There’s always something I could do differently.

“That was good enough. But I don’t need good, I need you to be better. We don’t have time for any kind of slacking this season, and if you want to pull your weight, I suggest doing so before the big game,” he says. “We’re counting on you not to let us down, son.”

I have no idea what that means.

He offers no specific direction, no changes, no improvements. Just endless vague criticism that I don’t even know how to begin to address.

And I hate it when he calls me “son.” It reminds me too much of my actual father.

“Yes, sir.”

He nods, heading off to go and find another player to snipe at.

I feel deflated, the previous rush of adrenaline siphoning out of me as I make my way out of the dugout. It’s a bit too close to home—cutting me down before I can really even enjoy feeling proud of myself.

In moments like this, it just takes one single comment to strike a crack through the wall I’ve built against countless others. Because I know that if the dam breaks, I’m probably never going to be able to fix it up again.

Just then, my eyes catch a glimpse of Jane in the bleachers. She sees me and smiles, waving excitedly. I’m still so mad at the Coach, partly angry at myself because apparently my best still isn’t good enough, and upset at the way my family still manages to haunt me despite me being hundreds of miles away from them.

I’m not in the mood to see anyone, especially Jane. I don’t want her to catch the fallout from that.

But I can’t bring myself to even fake a smile, not even for her. I walk up to her, and she immediately begins complimenting the way I played.

“I caught some of the session and you looked amazing out there, Noah,” she says sincerely.

The words bounce off me like rubber.

“Thanks,” I reply, barely focused on the conversation. “But it’s not good enough. I need to do better.”

Jane looks confused, her brows knit together. “But you did great. Why would youー”

“Look, I’m really sorry, but I have to take a shower. But I’ll text you later, okay? Promise,” I interrupt, eager to get out of these practice clothes and away from anything to do with practice for a bit.

She looks a little hurt, something that immediately sucker-punches me, but she nods anyway. “Yeah, sure. I understand. I’ll talk to you later.”

When I walk away from her, guilt immediately consumes me. The last thing I wanted was to take out any of my frustrations on her. But I’m too messed up right now to do anything else but be alone where I can’t hurt her any more than I already have.