You win

Sofia - solutions

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 phenomenal—the 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 stunt—"

"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, someone—"

"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.