Sometimes, it's better to wait a minute or two, or even just a second, before you act; that's what my old coach taught me. Changes happen in the blink of an eye, especially on the field, and you're faced with two choices: act or react.
I never quite understood it. Faster is better; being quick is a skill. Yet she insisted that reacting isn't everything, and once I grasped that concept, I'd be phenomenalâthe best.
As I sit in the cafe, awaiting Stephan so we can make our abbreviated daily appearance, it finally clicks. I find myself repeatedly reacting, both on and off the field. But if I took a moment to pause and consider all the possibilities instead of opting for the quick and easy solution, maybe I wouldn't find myself in the situations I do. Then again, she did say sometimes.
The door jingles, and I watch Stephan saunter as if he's not late. His eyes meet mine, and he strides over, leaning against the small sofa chair across from me. He's wearing black sweatpants, a matching black hoodie, and a white t-shirt peeking out from underneath. His hair is pushed back, a few strands escaping from his backward cap and falling flawlessly over his forehead.
"Sorry, I'm late, beautiful." And ruined. He says it with that annoying smirk of his as he takes a seat across from me.
I can't help but roll my eyes. "Can you not?" I ask, genuinely exasperated.
"Not what, Del? I'm just being charming," he replies, the glimmer in his eye unmistakable as his smirk widens.
"Try less." I retort.
"Why? Can't handle it?" He pushes.
"What, you think I can't resist you? I'll be fine," I reply with a phony smile, earning an eye roll from him in return.
"This is nothing but a PR stuntâ"
"Exactly." I cut him off, looking down at my phone and checking my schedule.
"So," he starts
"So what?" I look up to see his smug expression.
"Don't go falling in love with me, Delezar." His words laced with sarcasm.
"Yeah, cause your such a catch?" My brows cock upwards.
"Wanna bet?" He shrugs, a taunting glint in his brown eyes.
"An easy win." I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.
"A competition." He declares leaning back in his chair his smug expression riling me up.
"If over these four months, someoneâ"
"You." I interject.
"Right. If it so happens that one of us, specifically you, catches feelings during our little relationship, you lose," he explains, as though it's the most straightforward concept in the world.
"And what does the winner get?"
"You get to break the other person's heart," he says in a matter-of-fact tone."Plus..."
"You win," he finishes.
"Done and done. Not every day you get to take candy from a baby."
"Did you just call me baby? You're losing already, Del." His smile is more annoying than usual as he places his hand over his chest.
"Whatever, genius, be ready for JAB by eight." I smile as I watch his cocky grin falls, and I rise from the table, noticing the lingering looks around us, then bringing my eyes back to Stephan.
"See you later, baby,"
+++
Now that I've scoped out all the possibilities of how tonight could go, bringing Stephan was the worst gameplay, again, reacting. I owe Peter a conversation, especially after I bailed on him and somehow ended up in a relationship with Westerman. Although we're not necessarily a 'couple' publicly, you don't become one without hanging out, so maybe there's a pro, that and how miserable he looks.
I watch him as he stands at the door's entrance; it's clear he isn't in his element. No football guys are here, and he can't necessarily mingle with the ladies. I watch as he chews his gum, making his cheeks flex, and his eyes scope the room quickly, his height an advantage. They then momentarily light up, and a smile appears on his face.
"Holy shit! Do you remember me? It's Tommy?" Seemingly, his friend jokes around as they dab each other up; he's not what I thought Westerman's friends would be like; he's far too lanky to be an athlete or current one. Tommy doesn't sport the whole tight T show off your biceps fashion; in fact, he looks almost skater-like in his loosely fitted apparel, fluffy brown hair, and vans. His brown eyes meet mine, and he smiles, showing off his perfect teeth.
"Tommy," he says, letting out his hand.
"Sofia," I meet his.
"I've seen you around; you're normally here with that Asian girl," he says, snapping trying to fill in the blanks.
"Jordan?"
"Yeah, Alo. Your soccer girls, great last season," he says, sipping his beer.
"Thanks," I reply; it feels great to be acknowledged for the work we put on the field. However, it would feel better coming from Dean Dick. His attention turns beside me back to Stephan.
"What are you doing here? This place is gay," Tommy questions, a glint in his eye, and Stephan nudges him away.
"Fuck off, we're hanging out."
"Oh, okay, I won't interrupt-"
"Please do. I'll be right back." I pat Stephan's shoulder and make a beeline for Peter by the pool table. He stands there with a couple of his friends, drinking and chatting, wearing a smile on his face. That is until his eyes meet mine, and I can only offer an apologetic one. He says something to his friends, and they look at me before heading off to get more drinks.
"Hey," I start.
"Sofia," he greets back, and I already feel worse.
"I'm really sorry about bailing, and I should've sent a text-"
"It's okay," he cuts me off, "You have a busy schedule; I get it."
"Yeah, busy is an understatement," I reply with a rueful chuckle, feeling the weight of my guilt settling in.
Peter nods understandingly, but there's a hint of disappointment in his eyes that I can't ignore. "So, what brings you here tonight?"
I glance over my shoulder, seeing Stephan chatting with Tommy, and I can't help but feel a pang of annoyance. "Just...hanging out," I say vaguely, not wanting to get into the details with Peter, especially with Stephan lurking nearby.
Peter's expression softens, and he takes a step closer. "Look, Sofia, I get it. I won't force you if you're not ready to take the next steps. We're friends first. If you ever need to talk or if you need some space... I'm here." He gently holds my hand while his other does his familiar fidget.
His words catch me off guard, and I offer him a small smile.
"Thanks, Peter. I appreciate that, but I actually..." I trail off, looking down momentarily, when an arm is swung over my shoulder. An arm belonging to Stephan Westerman, an arm that leads me to tense up, and Peter to let go of my hand and take a step back.
"Hey, Del," Stephan says casually, and I resist the urge to shrug him off.
"Hey," I reply briefly, shooting him a warning glance that he completely ignores.
"Who's your friend?" Stephan asks, looking at Peter with mild interest.
Ignoring his expression is hard; he looks dumbfounded at first, even confused. And the guilt that I'm feeling worsens; I'm a terrible person. No, Stephan is.
"This is Peter," I introduce, trying to keep my voice steady despite my anger. "Peter, this is Stephan."
"Nice to meet you," Peter says politely, extending his hand while giving me a wary look. I can't even look at him like this, not while Stephan's arm is slung over me. Stephan gives it a quick shake before turning his attention back to me.
"We should get going," he says, giving my shoulder a light squeeze, just to show how buddy, buddy we are when in reality Id like to rip off his arm and beat him with it.
I shoot Peter an apologetic look before allowing Stephan to lead me away, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation settle in. Once out of sight, I grab Stephan with all the force my body can offer and shove him outside. I look around at the empty street before turning to him.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"Oh, I'm just supposed to stand there while you guys hold hands?" Stephan's voice slices through the tense air, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leans against the wall, arms folded.
I tilt my face, "You know what, Stephan? What you didn't have to do was interrupt my conversation by being a dick."
Stephan's eyes flash with irritation, his jaw clenching. "Me? Interrupt your conversation? Last I checked, you were the one who dragged me here against my will."
"He's a real fucking person, one that I care about," I snap back.
Stephan's expression darkens, his jaw tensing. "Clearly not enough since you've made your choice, and it wasn't him," he retorts sharply, his words hitting me like a punch.
My eyes narrow at him as I take a step closer; so close I can smell the mint gum he is chewing; so close I notice the green specks in his eyes I hadn't seen before; so close that he knows I'm not fucking around when I speak to him.
"What do you flip a switch? Does acting like an asshole make you feel like a big man?"
"No," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
"Being your only solution does."