nineteen | misery loves company

SHARING A BED FOR THE WEEK HAD BEEN MISERABLE. Being in such proximity was miserable. Everyone thinking she was his—congratulating him on how well he'd done with her—was miserable. Kissing her and touching her, knowing none of it was real, was miserable. His mother raving to him about how much she loved her made him so fucking miserable. 

He'd never push her into something she didn't want but, god, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly. You can't expect someone to go back to the off-brand once they've had a taste of the designer.

When she'd made a pillow fort between them on the first night, he'd felt a massive pang in his chest. He loved physical touch. He loved cuddling in bed. He loved being able to wake up in the middle of the night and feel someone else's presence. Jordan had always been the type to wake up in the middle of the night just to watch his partner breathe. . . in a not-weird way.

They didn't win their game, which sucked (especially when his whole family had packed into the stadium). Of all games to lose, why'd it have to be this one? The one he finally got the chance to show everyone all their sacrifices were worth it—to make them proud. And he fumbled.

The family dinner afterwards had been somber. There was a cloud raining over him that no one wanted to prod at it too hard. All he'd wanted to do was go back to the hotel and sleep.

"Do you want the shower first or. . . ?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at Ali, who was standing in front of the ensuite door holding a towel and her toiletries bag. She'd opted for a flowing white skirt and a Broncos hoodie that she'd cropped herself with kitchen scissors. (And no, the cut was not straight and the bottom was already fraying a-lot.) Her hair was out, the curls she'd complained about doing that morning having fallen out. The makeup he'd had to sit through her do every morning of that trip seemed to have half wiped off—as if someone had put a blur filter over it.

He'd been sitting at the end of the bed, staring at his blank phone screen. "I showered after the game, you go," he muttered, flopping backwards on the bed.

"Okay," she replied softly, shutting the door behind her. Not long after he heard the shower start.

He was exhausted, he'll admit. For the entire duration of her shower, he didn't move from staring at the roof. He just stared at the mosquito that flew laps around the lightbulb.

When Ali emerged, she let out an 'oh' under her breath. This caught his attention and he raised his head slightly to stare. She stood in front of him in nothing but a towel, hair dripping a trail behind her. "You've been off all night, are you okay?" She asked, taking a seat next to him.

Jordan's entire body tensed as he felt the mattress dip. A few droplets of water from her hair splattered against his tattoos. "Just disappointed, I made so many errors—"

"It's impossible to win everything," she replied, one of her acrylics following the patterns of his tattoos. More droplets were left in her wake as she continued down the track. "Still, I don't think that's the only thing bothering you."

She wasn't wrong. "Can we not do the pillow fort tonight? It's our last night here and you know, I'd like to use the whole bed. . ." His words got lost in his throat as her fingers stopped moving.

"Oh, um. . ."

"If you're uncomfortable with it, just forget—"

"No, it's okay, I just thought you preferred it this way."

"What gave you that impression?" He replied way faster then he'd intended.

"It's always been your idea to sleep in seperate beds—I just thought you liked your space—"

Jordan shook his head. "I was trying to accommodate you."

Ali laughed emotionlessly. "My ex used to yell at me until I had sex with him, it takes a lot to truly make me uncomfortable."

The frustration and misery drained from Jordan's body—along with the colour from his face. All replaced with guilt. He was selfish. He was so selfish. She'd been open that a real relationship was the last thing she wanted. But a part of him always had to push and push. Selfish.

"Ali. . ."

The blonde shook her head at him as a singular tear slid down her cheek. On instinct, he reached up and wiped it away. As he retracted his hand, she covered it with her own and held it against her cheek. "No pillows," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

💌

(@aligreer via snapchat stories!

ALI HAD NEVER NOTICED THE WAY JORDAN WOULD WALK INTO A ROOM AND EVERYONE SEEMED TO ORBIT AROUND HIM. The way his smile could charm any person he came into contact with and how everyone he spoke to clung onto every single word he said—as if he was reciting the answers to the universe. Smiles would wash upon onlookers faces if he so much as glanced in their direction.

Of course she'd noticed the other things. Like how his biceps rippled under white t-shirts, begging for an escape. Or the way his lips curled when he spoke about something he was passionate about. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he laughed heartily about a joke his friends had made. His teeth, so straight and white, would catch his tongue when he was deep in concentration.

You observed a lot about a person when you were in proximity with them. Day after day after day of them.

She tried to ignore the way her heart would race when his skin brushed against hers—this was new. She pretended that she didn't go back to the drunken nights together when she was by herself under the boiling shower-head. She averted her eyes when he'd change his top in front of her, always finding a deep interest in the chips of the painting on the walls. She'd play it cool when he'd casually drop a compliment on her direction, acting as if the words didn't echo around her brain for the rest of the day.

Proximity was a strange thing. She tried to remind herself of a TED Talk she'd seen once where a speaker had denied the existence of 'true love' and boiled it down to proximity. When people are closer to you (in a physical sense) it breeds familiarity, which breeds attraction and so fourth. They paired this with the word 'convenience'. Why would someone drive across the city to a 7-11 when they could go to the one down the street? Proximity and convenience went hand and hand. Jordan was convenient. He was there, always.

"Earth to Ali, hello?" Came Silvi's voice. "We haven't seen you in over a week and you're just gonna daydream the whole time?"

The blondes face heated up under the gaze of her best friends. "Sorry, just thinking," she replied softly, flicking her bangs back into place.

Mira shook her head, stirring her tea. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing," Ali insisted.

Her two friends exchanged looks, unconvinced. "Oh, please."

"Seriously," she replied, racking her brain for a way to change the subject. "How's your. . . boyfriend?"

Silvi snorted. "I wouldn't go that far," she said, sounding slightly bitter.

"Has something happened?"

Silvi shrugged theatrically. "Who knows, he barely answered my texts the whole time he was in New Zealand—couldn't have killed you to keep an eye on him?"

Ali's face heated up once again. The thought to keep an eye on what Reece got up-to while abroad hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd been so. . . preoccupied. "There was only like one day of downtime for the players the whole trip—I had to hangout with Freda. . ." Ali caught herself, immediately realising.

"Oh, did you now?" Silvi responded, sarcasm oozing from her words.

"Silvi. . . they've got a kid together, of course she's gonna be around." Mira butted in, trying to rationalise with her kid.

"Last I checked, my parents didn't go on overseas trips together after the divorce," the brunette snapped, flicking a crumb with her nail.

"She genuinely seemed to have no interest in getting back with him," Ali tried to reassure her friend.

"Doesn't mean he doesn't," she retorted.

Mira sighed. "Have you actually spoken to him about it or are you just jumping to conclusions?"

Silvi huffed and crossed her arms across her chest tightly. "Easy for you to talk, you're dating captain communication."

"I—we're. . . we're not dating, we're just going with the flow and stuff. . ." Said Mira, her ears reddening.

"Here's to situationships," Silvia toasted, raising her glass as they all clinked together.

💌

(@aligreer via snapchat stories!)

HERBIE FARNWORTH REPLIED TO YOUR STORY!
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🌸 KK SPEAKS!
can you tell i love writing internal monologues? dialogue has been so hard for me lately, i feel like it all comes across unnatural.

gonna start setting comment/vote goals for every chapter in order for the next one to be released (gives myself time to pre-write too lol). so let's aim for 20 votes & 40 comments (we've done it on other chapters so surely this won't be too hard).

does anyone know if herbie is in america separately to the players who are there or not? i'm nosy lol

thanks for your continuous support xxx