Chapter 2

There are only a few things I hate more than checking a game on my phone — It’s so stressful!

Dortmund are currently down to ten men after a silly foul and an over reactive referee. It’s not looking good... The game is still 0-0, but they've had to put so much extra to compensate.

I bite my nails as I get ready and start losing hope that Mats will make it to my graduation once I see the game will go to extra time.

It takes two hours to get from Dortmund to here. He will be exhausted once he’s done.

I just know this — he won’t come.

I flinch and bring the screen of my cellphone closer. That was a bad fall. Lukasz is down, grabbing his hip, cringing in pain.

Oh God...

They have no more substitutions.

Shit...

“Cee Cee, you ready?” My classmate opens the door, distracting me from my phone.

It’s time to go.

I turn off my cell and grab my gown from the chair. “Yeah, let’s go.”

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I’m already at my department’s party when my phone rings — Mats.

“Hey, how did it go?”

“Hey, Cee Cee...” He sounds distracted. There’s a lot of commotion in the background. “It went well. We’re through. We won on penalty kicks.”

“Wow... Congratulations! I saw it went to extra time, but I hadn't been able to check the score. I just got here. Are you on your way?” I try not to sound too hopeful, but there’s a chance he can still make it.

“Cee Cee, I...” I hear him take in a deep breath, exhaling through a groan. He’s exhausted. I know this.

“Mats, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal.” Except is it’s my freaking graduation!

“I’m sorry.”

I can hear someone else through the line, but the sounds are muffled. “Dude, I can’t even feel my legs right now, and it’s a two-hour drive,” I hear Mats say, even though it seems he’s tried to cover the phone. I let out a small sigh. He’s not coming. “What for?” he asks to whoever he’s talking to on the other side of the line.

He seems to do a better job covering the receiver, so I can’t catch any of the rest.

“Cee Cee?” Mats’ tone shifts, he’s not apologetic anymore.

“Yeah?”

“I’m on my way, okay? I’ll see you there.”

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

As soon as I see him I can’t keep the smile off my face. Mats stands close to the door, in dark jeans and a grey v-neck sweater, the collar of his button up peaking from underneath. I approach him excitedly, my heels clicking on my way.

“Baby, you look beautiful.” He kisses my cheek and half hugs me with one arm, bending over to meet my height.

“Are you okay?” My hand clasps around his shoulders, my eyes examine his. He looks tired but seems okay.

“Yeah...” He shrugs. “Just a bit sore.”

“Thanks for coming.” I run a hand down his arm while a smile spreads on my face.

He made it after all. He came here, for me, for my graduation, even after his game.

“Where’s the bar?” He asks, his eyes roaming the room. “I need to wake up. That two-hour nap might not have been the best idea.”

“Nap?” I ask, while he’s already moving out of my sight.

“Oh... yeah. Lukasz drove,” he adds nonchalantly, stopping on his way to the bar. “You want something to drink?”

Lukasz?

“Oh... no, no.” I wave him off dismissively, still confused about what he just said. “I’m... I’m fine.”

As Mats retreats, I look back in the direction of the door to find Lukasz, his back against the wall, looking straight at me. He’s in a dark navy long sleeve shirt, his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

A nervous feeling sets in my stomach. I don’t even know what to think. Why is he here?

My feet move uncertainly in his direction. My fingers twitch as I clasp my hands together.

He stretches his pose when I stand in front of him, a small but polite smile stretching on his lips, but he says nothing.

“Hey,” I say.

“Cecilia, hi.” He nods. “Congratulations.” He extends his hand to me for a shake, and I smile, embracing him in a hug instead.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I release him, noticing he did not hug me back.

We stand awkwardly in front of each other for a few seconds. He glances over my shoulder a couple times, searching for Mats, I presume. “He’s getting drinks,” I say. “What... um... what are you doing here?”

He scratches the back of his head, stalling on words, his eyes guiltily peeking at me.

Then it all makes sense. He was the one talking to Mats while I was on the phone with him. He is who persuaded Mats’ mind about coming.

“He wasn't going to come, was he?” It should have been obvious from the beginning. Lukasz’s the only reason Mats is here.

“He was...” Lukasz shakes his head, his hands up in front of me. “He wanted to,” he corrects.

“Don’t lie for him, Lukasz.” I palm my forehead, saddened in realization. Mats was never going to come.

“It was a tough game,” Lukasz adds. “That’s all.”

“Right...”

He exhales through his nose as his gaze penetrates me. I’m grounded to my spot by the intense blue of his eyes which try to say so much even though he remains quiet.

I look down at my hands and notice his are in tight fists at his sides.

Before I can ask him what’s wrong, Mats returns.

“Beer?” Mats offers Lukasz, who shakes his head.

“Oh right...” Mats sets one drink down as he sips from the other one. “Not good to mix with those pain meds.” Mats’ hand finds my shoulders, exposed under my dress, and he runs his fingers from my neck to the small of my back, a devious smirk on his face, peeking down at me.

I’m not sure if my shivers arise from the coolness of his fingertips after holding the beer, or from how uncomfortable it feels that he’s being this intimate in front of Lukasz whose eyes won’t leave mine.

“I should probably get going.” Lukasz steps away from the wall, hobbling a bit, keeping the weight off his right leg. His fists tighten infinitely more.

My stomach sinks — he’s hurt.

“You don’t have to go,” I blurt out.

“Yeah, man. Stay. We’ll drive back tomorrow morning.”

He shakes his head minutely, disapprovingly. His eyes remain on me.

Mats’ arm is off me and over Lukasz’s shoulder in the next second. “C’mon, you don’t want to take that two-hour drive back by yourself, do you? This won’t be long, plus Cee Cee has a couch. It’s fine. Right, baby?”

“Yes, of course.” I smile timidly at Lukasz. He agrees, although his face does not show relief.

It’s not too long before we are being called over the system. I give them both a small smile as they both walk to their seats. I head in the opposite direction, joining the rest of the graduates.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Once Mats is snoring, I sneak out of the room.

I haven’t been able to talk to Lukasz all night, and I just want to check if he’s okay... and thank him for coming... and bringing Mats.

I walk in the living room tentatively, quietly, not to wake him up in case he is asleep. My eyes adapt quickly to the faint moonlight coming in through the blinds.

Before I take the next step, I hear him groan as he turns on the couch. “Stupid, stupid, stupid... Shit.” He groans again.

“Lukasz?” I whisper.

He sits with a jolt, startled. His hand flies to his hip and he winces.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you okay?”

When his eyes find mine, he stops rubbing his hip and composes his face. “I’m fine.” He nods briefly, extending his leg, as he struggles to find a comfortable position on the couch.

“You sure?” I insist.

“Mmmhmm...” He exhales through his nose.

I decide not to push it, even though I don’t believe him. Something I’ve learned to do quite well because of Mats. So I stand there awkwardly, in the middle of my living room, regretting having left my bed.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after a while.

“Umm... Yeah...” I reach for the chair next to the couch, taking a seat. “I just wanted to say thank you, for coming here, and bringing Mats. You’re a good friend, Lukasz.”

He snorts, dropping his head back on the couch. When he looks at me again, he’s frowning.

“What?” My question comes out in a whisper as his blue eyes land on mine.

“Nothing...” he says dismissively, his hand on his hip again.

“Okay...” I breathe out in exasperation. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong? Because you are obviously not okay.”

“It’s just a little sore.” He shrugs.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No... it’s fine. I actually have the meds in the car.” He starts getting up from the couch, keeping his weight off his leg. I rise from my chair at the same time he stumbles forward, and I catch his arm, steadying him.

He breathes out harshly, his chest right in front of my face, pumping up and down under his white tee. My fingers tingle with a strange current that the touch of his skin provokes in  me.

I drop my hand, still unable to look him in the eyes, and take a step back.

What the hell was that?

“Um...” I stare at my hands. “If you give me your keys, I’ll go get it for you.”

“I just didn't want to wake you guys...” He stalls, his tone changing at the end. “But now that you’re up, I can go get it. It’s fine.” He hobbles forward again, and I look up. I’m trapped between him, the couch, and the coffee table. I ponder whether to help him or just get out of the way.

In fear of feeling whatever it was I felt before, I move out of the way. I can see he’s trying not to limp, as he hobbles past me. “Lukasz, really, I can go get it for you.”

He stops in front of me, his hand reaching for my face. “I’m fine.” With his thumb, he pulls gently on my chin, effectively releasing the bottom lip I didn’t know I was biting. Something must have changed on my face then, because he drops his hand suddenly. “I’m fine,” he says again, shaking his head. “It actually hurts more when I’m sitting.” He turns at the door, a timid smile on his face. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch the door close from my spot in the living room, paralyzed. My fingers touch my bottom lip, where his thumb brushed my skin a few seconds ago. It was nothing, but it felt like so much — like too much.

I set a kettle to offer him some tea when he returns. As I wait, I can’t help but think about him going down the stairs in whatever state he’s in. Or him driving, two hours to get here, when he just said sitting hurts. 

Curiosity eats at me, and I end up peeking through the blinds out on the street.

I see him open the trunk of his car, fish for something in his bag, until he extracts a bottle of water with which he downs the pills. He remains by the car then, after he’s shut the trunk. Both hands on top of the car frame, his head down.

What is he doing?

Before I can worry any more, his head snaps up and he glances at my window. My fingers release the blinds immediately.

Caught red handed. Ugh.

There isn't enough time for me to think about it because next thing I know, after hearing the door open and close, the car starts, and I’m rushing out the door.

I make it to the street in time, thankful that the car is still here, albeit running, with the windows up and him inside. He is in the driver's seat, his face hidden in his hands as he slouches forward, resting against the steering wheel.

“Lukasz?” My knuckles tap softly on the window.

His head snaps in my direction and he rolls the window down.

"What are you doing?" I stoop down, leaning on the window frame.

"I... I'm not sure." He doesn't look at me, but straight ahead instead while his hands rub over his face.

"Are you leaving?"

"I should go," he says into his hands.

“It’s two in the morning. You’re not going anywhere like this.” I tentatively reach for his shoulder and clasp my fingers around it. “We’ll drive back tomorrow morning.”

He takes a deep breath and kills the engine as I remove my hand from his shoulder and step aside.

We walk in silence back to my building, side by side. I feel more than see him tense up on the first step.

“How long ‘til the meds kick in?” I ask to try to distract us. I don’t want to draw more attention to the fact that he’s uncomfortable, but I wish I had a way to help him. If only I knew what was going on…

“Just a little longer.” His tone is causal and his face is composed. He even smiles at me a little as he shrugs.

“Is this from the fall you took?” The wooden door of my building creeks with the movement. Lukasz stays behind me, his arm, right above my head, holds the door open to allow me to go in first.

“Partially...” he elaborates as we go inside. I notice how his hand reaches for the stair railing as soon as we start going upstairs. “I have a recurring hip injury. The fall just added a bruise on top of that.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting then? Why did you play today?” I fail at not sounding worried. I want to ask him a thousand questions.

“It’s not going to get better with rest. I need surgery.”

“When are you having the surgery?”

“In May,” he states, as if May is next week.

“In May?! That’s five months away.”

“I know...” He smiles unapologetically, with that no big deal attitude, but his hand still grabs the rail tightly in contradiction. “We can’t afford to have the surgery now.”

I stare at him in disbelief. How can they not afford it?!

“Who’s going to play right back? Kevin?” He snorts playfully but I don’t find it amusing at all.

“So you’re going to play in pain for the rest of the season? What if it gets worse?”

“It won’t get worse.” He shrugs, but I catch his relieved exhale as he makes it to my floor. “It’s not that bad, honestly. Today was just... intense.”

“I don’t know,” I start, walking to my door. “Delaying a surgery just doesn’t seem smart.”

“It will be fine.”

His voice is lost in a whisper as we stand in front of my door. Clanking and the whistling of the kettle can be heard from inside.

Oh shit...

I find Mats in the kitchen, in only his boxers, taking the kettle off the stove.

As I close the door, he turns to me... to us.

His hair is falling over his face — his eyes half open. I can see bed sheet marks all over his torso. The sight makes me smile.

“Cee Cee, what the hell?!”

I take the kettle from him and set it on the counter. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“What are you- why were you...” He runs a hand down his face and groans. Then he just walks out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, refusing to care about anything else. I wouldn’t be surprised he was half asleep.

With a sigh, I turn to Lukasz, who is still standing by the door, one hand on his hip, the other scratching the back of his head.

I glance at the bedroom quickly; I can already see Mats’ feet hanging from the edge of the bed. “Would you like some tea?” I ask Lukasz.

His eyes are on me when I turn back to him, he seems surprised by my offer, but nods nonetheless. I make chamomile tea for both of us. Lukasz remains quiet in the kitchen, while I serve two cups of the tea. As I hand him the cup, he gives me a tiny grin and we move out into the living room.

He sits carefully on one side of the couch, eyeing me sheepishly before stretching his leg over the couch and exhaling in relief.

I take a place on the chair next to him, hugging my knees to my chest and blowing on my tea.

“Thanks...” he starts. “For the tea.”

“Maybe it would help us go back to sleep.”

He shakes his head, taking a sip from the mug. “I can’t ever sleep the night after a game. I don’t know... too much adrenaline... stress. Can’t even keep my eyes closed long enough.”

“Funny… Mats is the same way, but the night before the game.”

He looks down at the mention of Mats’ name and we fall into silence again.

“So...” he says. “What’s keeping you up?”

“Hmm... nothing really... everything.”

“I see...” The corners of his lips stretch in a smile, a couple lines digging in his cheeks flanking each side. 

“You’re done with school now, though. I’m sure that’s gotten some things off your head.”

“Well, yeah... and added about a thousand more.”

“An M.S is in Child Development, impressive.” He turns the mug in his hands, his eyes crinkling. “What’s next?”

My eyes scrutinize him in surprise as my teeth attack my lip. I don’t think Mats even knows what my degree is in. “Um...” I move away from that thought quickly. “I’ve been applying for jobs. Actually have two offers already.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Yeah, one is in Dortmund, for a small organization that deals mostly with local kids.”

“Do you like that one?”

“Yeah... I mean it’s in Dortmund.”

“What about the other one?”

“The other one is in Munich.” I feel my cheeks burn with the excitement of that possibility.

Lukasz notices right away. “And you like that one better?”

I nod at him. I do. I do like the other offer much better. “It’s for IBG, I’d be coordinating the outdoor activities department.”

“Wow… IBG? That’s huge!”

My eyes stay on him as I sigh. “Yeah...” I shrug. “But it’s in Munich.”

“So what?”

“It’s too far. If being here has been a hassle for me and Mats, imagine living five hours away.”

“I’m sure he’d understand. It’s an amazing opportunity; IBG does some really great-”

I’m the one who snorts now — there is absolutely no way that Mats in Dortmund and me in Munich would ever work out. “How do you and Paula do it?” I blurt out. I don’t know much about them, but I know she spends most of her time in Poland, where he’s from.

His eyebrows raise, and he swings his leg off the couch to scoot forward and set the mug on the coffee table. He runs a hand on his hair before he rubs his palms on his thighs. “We don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s over. It’s been over for a while.”

“Oh... I didn't know.” I can’t read the expression on his face, he won’t let anything show.

“No one does. I like to keep my private life private,” he adds dismissively. It’s obvious he does not want to talk about this.

“I’m sorry.” I look down in embarrassment, regretting bringing her up.

“It’s okay...” He shrugs, resting his back on the couch and exhaling loudly. “It was too hard for her, this life. Not everybody can deal with it as well as you.”

“You think I deal well with this?” A small laugh as I look back at him.

“You clearly do. And Mats deals with a thousand times more press than I do. Still... You both seem to handle it well. You make him happy. You seem happy...” He pauses for a second, his eyes peeking through his lashes. “Are you happy?”

I try to subtly squeeze my hands between my thighs. I'm glad it's kind of dark so he doesn't see how nervous his question made me.

Why?

Why would he even ask that?

"I love him. Does it matter if I'm happy?"

He looks at me as if it’s the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "Cecilia, it has always been about you being happy."

I stare at him again. “What do you mean?”

He groans, shaking his head. “Nothing... It’s late. We should try to go back to sleep.”

His eyes beg me to drop it, to not ask any further, and so I do, because I don’t know if I really want to be digging for answers.

I take our mugs to the sink and stop in the living room again, on my way to the bedroom. He is still sitting, his hand rubbing his stretched leg.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah...” he says reassuringly, dismissively, scooting forward and laying back on the couch. He doesn't seem to be in pain anymore, so I relax, and with a smile, walk back into my room.

The chamomile tea didn't help. I still find myself turning in bed, trying to remember if in the four years that I've known Lukasz, I've ever felt anything as close to the things I felt for him tonight.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~