A Different Slice

19 - Curveball (Naomi)

With almost no spots left in the parking lot, Naomi pulled up next to a black SUV like the one Tara drove. Perhaps Ian's temperamental car was in the shop. When she glanced at the passenger window, the blood drained from her face. Her hands threatened to strangle the steering wheel. Salty tears burned her eyes.

Should she peel out of the parking lot? Call Kieran and spend the night crying into his arms?

Breathe, breathe again.

You're a grown-ass woman. You've been hurt before and survived. This is the same.

Moving on was harder when her ex was making out with the woman he claimed he liked less than Naomi. How could he claim he and Naomi would be end-game and return to Tara like nothing happened? It had only been two weeks!

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as her nails dug into the rubbery material. One detail about her sexuality had unsettled their entire history and relationship. Was Greg rubbing it in her face by showing up with Tara?

Quit dwelling, the game will start, and you haven't warmed up. No sense in getting injured by jumping in cold.

With a trembling breath, Naomi stepped outside, shutting the door with more force than usual, not a slam but a noticeable sound. Her gaze shot to the SUV's passenger window, where Greg pulled away from Tara. Naomi hurried to grab her equipment, but in her haste to leave the house, she'd strewn half her articles across the backseat. She shoved her water bottle, jersey, and snacks into her bag then shut the door, only to meet Greg.

Thanks a lot, Past Naomi.

He stood with wide eyes like a deer in the headlights.

"Nomi."

She shouldered her sports bag and acknowledged him with a simple, "Greg," like he hadn't shattered the fragments she'd cobbled together of her heart.

Tara rounded the vehicle and froze upon meeting Naomi's gaze. "You didn't come early? Ian was determined to beat you to practice today."

"Looks like he did. Tuesdays are my late training sessions. Speaking of time, I need to get on the field."

"Unfortunately, so do I," Greg said to his new significant other.

Naomi stalked off before she heard more, but his footsteps caught up to her twenty seconds later.

"Nomi, I'm sorry. That wasn't how I wanted to tell you about Tara."

"It's fine. It's not a surprise." Naomi pressed her lips together.

His tone climbed. "It's not?"

She tried to keep her answer in the logical realm to spare herself pain and embarrassment. "You weren't over her. What happened between us cleared up any confusion about your feelings."

He quieted, and when she dared to look in his direction, his Adam's apple rose and fell. "I'm not the bad guy here. You turned me down."

Why was he blaming her? He'd made his choice.

"Does that make me the villain? For having the self-respect to not date someone who'd want to change me."

"Who said I wanted to change you?"

It had been written all over his disappointment at hearing how often they would have sex or that she'd never find him sexually attractive. In the way, he asked if she was sure about her identity as if her uncertainty would 'cure' her.

"I've been through this before, Greg. I know the signs. We would have hurt each other worse as our expectations didn't line up."

He stared at her like she'd stuck him. "You're basing that on your exes and wouldn't trust I'd be different."