Campus King | 18+

Chapter Forty-Seven

I woke up feeling more rested than I had in... hell, years probably. No dreams, no tossing and turning — just solid, deep sleep. 

My arms tightened around the warm woman in my arms and I buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She always smelled so good — like a mix of home, strawberry and vanilla, and something uniquely her. Despite everything, being here with her felt right and natural. I didn't know where I'd find the will to walk away again.

Knowing I had to let her go made me pull her even closer, greedily soaking her in while I still had the chance. And then for one agonizing second, I let myself entertain the thought of waking up to this — to her, for the rest of my life, and the hunger for that to be true nearly crippled me. 

So I quickly pushed those thoughts aside, knowing they would continue eating at me later. There was a reason this was only a one-time thing — I recognized that, knew that. She had her dreams, just like I did. And as much as it pained me, I couldn't ask her to stay, not when I understood the importance of a dream.

Or at least, I used to. Lately, my own dream had begun to lose its luster. Football wasn't going so well, and the pressure to perform and not let everyone down was starting to crush me. I didn't know how to shake off that feeling, didn't know how to fix things. 

Maybe I was just stressed, but the once exhilarating rush of the game had been replaced by a gnawing sense of dread, a fear of failure that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

And yet, despite that overwhelming pressure, I couldn't see myself doing anything else. Football was all I knew, all I had ever wanted. The thought of walking away from the game that had defined me for so long filled me with a sense of emptiness — a void I didn't know how to fill. I was an athlete through and through, so the thought of sitting at a desk or pursuing a different career path felt foreign and wrong.

Yet, I wasn't going to lie — I felt like I was reaching a breaking point. And deep down, I knew that something had to change, but I didn't know where to start. No, I didn't know how to start. And the thought of admitting that I was struggling made me sick to my stomach.

But she was also right about my past. I didn't like to think or talk about what happened because I didn't like the things it made me feel — so out of control and desperate, so fucking helpless. I especially hated the fear it made me relive.

I had convinced myself that I was making progress when I put an end to the partying and drinking, but if the festival weekend had taught me anything — it wasn't those things that were holding me back.

I should have known Hannah would force me to confront those aspects of myself, and at first, yeah, it pissed me off. Even I knew I got defensive and shut off when anyone tried to help. And that was exactly what Hannah did — because at her core she was a caring person, and she would do anything for those she loved or cared about. She had the biggest heart under that prickly exterior and when you got past her defenses, the woman you were met with was truly remarkable. And so she tried to help me and I pushed her away, ultimately losing her in the process.