The last couple of matches I'd played for Stanford, I'd been off form. And the pressure on me to do better as I was here on this volleyball scholarship made things even worse. Usually, I thrived under pressure – but the thing was, it wasn't only this pressure in the mix.
There was the heartbreak, too, which just made things that much worse.
I'd known, of course, that getting over Wade would be difficult. I just hadn't realized just how difficult it would be.
I had dreams about him, like the one I'd just had. He popped into my thoughts all the time, no matter what I was doing – whether I was in class, or playing and training for volleyball, or walking in the park, working out, cooking, whatever. He would just show up in my head unannounced and uninvited and getting rid of him was no easy task.
I sighed. I wondered if I would ever get over him. I mean, here I was, supposedly living my dream, having been given this exclusive scholarship to one of the best universities in the country, playing volleyball with some of the best athletes of my age in the whole of the United States…yet, I wasn't happy.
The more I tried, the harder it became to convince myself that I could be happy without Wade. And, that just drove me even crazier because I knew that being with him was simply not a possibility.
At least sipping on the coffee brought a sense of fresh clarity to my mind. I felt a bit more awake and less stuck in a dream world after imbibing some of the hot, bitter liquid.
After a few minutes, Leena walked into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around her and her hair still wet from the shower. “Good morning, my bestest friend,” she said with a smile. “You ready for the big game today? I hear the UCLA lineup is killer. We're gonna have our hands full, for sure.”
“I know. And, I'm really hoping I play a little better today than I have the last couple of games.”
“Awww, don't be so hard on yourself, Eryn. You've been playing well enough.”
I shook my head. “No, I haven't. There's no need to sugarcoat it, Lee. You've been killing it, but I think we both know that I haven't been on top of my game recently.”
That was the truth. Leena had taken to Stanford l
ike a fish to water. She'd been playing better than she ever had and had been getting fantastic grades in her courses, as well. Me, on the other hand – well, I'd been passing my courses, but not spectacularly by any means. And like I said, I'd been feeling pretty off on the volleyball court, too.
I knew that it had a lot to do with Wade, but who could I talk to about that? And how could I get over it?
Leena, in line with all of her other successful adjustments over the past two months, had also adjusted just as well in the love department. She'd broken up with her boyfriend in Florida the day before coming out to Stanford, and had met a new guy, Callum, just two weeks after being here. She seemed perfectly happy with him. No signs of sorrow or heartbreak from her previous relationship.
I wished I could just get over things that easily. Specifically, Wade.
Still, all I could do now was to somehow try to force the memories out of my head. I had to be on for this game today. I really did. The coach had taken me aside the last practice and told me that my place on the starting lineup was in jeopardy, and that it very much depended on how well I did today.
I got up, downed the rest of my coffee, and walked past Leena.
“I'm gonna shower,” I said flatly. “See you in a few minutes.”
*****
A bead of sweat trickled its way down the back of my neck, tracing a maddening itch along the surface of my skin. No. I would ignore it; it was just another distraction trying to pull my focus away from the game. I stared intently at the ball as the UCLA server tossed it up in the air to serve.
I was in the zone, at last. It had taken a long time to get back here, but finally, I had arrived. I don't know what it was, but I'd finally snapped out of the funk I'd been in, and had been playing like I was on fire.
The serve was good, but Leena defended it perfectly and set up an attack for me – a perfect attack. I sprang high into the air and smashed the ball earthwards in a perfect, missile-strike spike. It blasted through a gap between two UCLA players and bounced hard off the court.
That was another point for us. The home crowd went wild, but I didn't even hear their roars and cheers – it was all just a vague, fuzzy background sound in my mind. All I could really hear was the steady beating of my heart and the slow, measured breaths that entered into my lungs and then were pushed out.
It was match point, and we had the serve. Leena served a great one, but a UCLA player managed to defend it with a pretty spectacular dive. They sent the ball back over the net into our court with a savage attack, but I jumped dramatically through the air and defended it, setting up an attack for my team as I did. Again, UCLA defended, and I'd only just gotten to my feet again when the ball came zipping right at me as they tried for a spike.
I dove hard and saved the ball just inches from the ground, setting up yet another attack. Leena smashed the ball over the net, and I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard. This time, I knew what I was going to do – something I hadn't done for a while.
The sneaky, little trick I'd used to fool Tammy so many times.
Everything was set up perfectly. The ball came over the net as they attacked, and I made as if to smash it back at them with all the force I could muster – but, instead, I slowed my arm at the last possible moment, and simply brushed the ball gently over the net, where it dropped and hit the ground to give us the point that won us the match.
I dropped to my knees, panting from the efforts of the last volley, and heard the crowd going mad in the background. I felt my teammates hugging me and clapping their hands on my shoulders and back, but it all seemed like it was happening to someone else, like I was watching it on a movie screen or something.
I heard my coach's voice in my ear as she clapped her own hand on my shoulder.