Lessons In Losing It (Study Abroad Book 4)

by Jessica Peterson

  It’s the only time I can bear to get real about my future with Fred.

  We’ve gotten absurdly great at pretending like we have all the time in the world together. Pretending we have nothing to worry about and that everything is going to work out in our favor. I feel so high when I’m with him. It makes it too easy to ignore reality.

  Now we can’t ignore it anymore.

  So I open my email this morning and there it is—a short but kind rejection from the physiology team at Fred’s football club. I knew the second I saw the line item, in bold, at the top of my screen that I didn’t get the internship. If I had, they would’ve called with the news.

  A hot rush of sensation moved from my chest into my head, settling behind my eyes. My throat closed up. I tried to breathe, tried to get a hold on the panic and disappointment and fierce sadness, but I couldn’t.

  I started crying. Big, fat, warm tears that were impossible to hide. I ducked out of class and tried to call Fred, but by that time he was in training. I didn’t know what to do.

  I came here, to my dorm room, where I’ve been crying on and off all afternoon. For the first few hours, I couldn’t move. I just curled up in the fetal position on my bed and lay very still. Maybe getting that email was just a dream, I thought, half delirious. Maybe this is all a bad dream and I’m going to wake up and laugh very hard about it.

  But after that I couldn’t sit still. Now I’m pacing, my chest hollow, eyes swollen, my thoughts coming and going so quickly I can hardly keep track of them.

  I did not get the internship at the club. Maybe Fred can pull some strings and change that. But my gut is telling me the door’s shut on this opportunity. I did a quick Google search on that guy Antonio Gonzalez. Not only does he own the club; he practically owns all of Madrid. Fred’s an important guy in this city, but he’s small beans compared to Antonio.

  And if that’s the case, then what? Do I give up my other dream internship—the one at Meryton—to stay in Spain with him? To be Fred’s forever girlfriend?

  I guess I could try to find another job here in sports medicine. But what if I don’t find another one? Or what if I do but it’s not nearly as great as the one back home? I’d be passing up what could be the professional opportunity of a lifetime to be some dude’s girlfriend. I’d essentially be putting my life on hold. Maybe even doing irreparable damage to the résumé I’ve worked so hard to build for the past couple years.

  I mean, Fred and I have known each other for three weeks. Twenty-two days. That’s it. Am I crazy for even thinking about staying in Spain?

  I think I’m in love with him. We have the best, the best, the best time together.

  Then again, this could just be a honeymoon phase. We haven’t exactly been living in reality. What happens when the sex stops being exciting or he gets bored or I get resentful—what then?

  I’ll have given up everything for nothing. I pretty much put a stake through my relationship with my mother to pursue my dreams—pursue sports medicine. What little goodwill there is left between us will be destroyed if I decide to stay in Madrid with no real plans for my future.

  I’ve been braver than I ever have before with Fred. But I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do this. To take this leap of faith. We have to be reasonable. We have to think like adults.

  I know it’s not reasonable to ask him to move with me back to the states. He’d be giving up—well, I don’t know how much money he’d be giving up, but it’d be a lot. He’s also sacrificed his relationship with his family to get where he is now. He’d be an idiot to move with me. There will be other girls for him. Nice, pretty girls who can stay.

  I suck in a breath. The thought of Fred with someone else—fuck, that hurts. It physically hurts, in a spot somewhere between my heart and stomach. The spot in the very center of my being. Fred touching someone else like he’s touched me—Fred finding someone the way he found me—I can’t.

  I can’t go there.

  Does this mean I’m really, truly in love with him? I don’t know.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I look up when my phone chimes. It’s a text from Fred—he’s outside. I take a quick glance out the window. My stomach dips. He’s standing at the front door. He’s still in his practice clothes, just like he was that first afternoon I took the tour at the training facility. His face is a little red when he turns it up to look at my window.

  He’s taller and handsomer than ever. Right now I wish he wasn’t so handsome. Maybe this would hurt less. Maybe I’d want him less.

  He looks worried. Fred’s always been a steadfast guy. Confident in the way he moves. But now he’s jerking back and forth, checking his phone, swaying side to side.

  Oh my God, I think. What have I done to this guy?

  What have we done to each other? Fucking idiots, the two of us, thinking we ever had a chance of making this work.

  I don’t remember walking down the hall and down the stairs to get him. The next thing I know I’m opening the front door and he’s looking at me and it’s like my heart falls five stories to land on the concrete between my feet.

  His eyes—they’re full. Sad.

  “Hey,” he breathes, taking the four front steps in a single leap.

  “C’mon in,” I say, and he follows me back up the stars and down the hall.

  He closes my door softly behind him.

  “Hey,” he says again. “How are you doing?”

  I turn around to look at him. “I had no idea I’d be this upset.”

  “I’m so sorry you didn’t get the internship. I know how much you wanted it.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” I say, lifting a shoulder to wipe my eye. “I guess I kinda thought it was in the bag. Landing the internship, I mean. I was confident after getting the one back home, you know? I also didn’t want to consider the possibility of not getting it. And what that would mean for us.”

  My voice gets thin on that last sentence.

  Fred’s face falls. “Rachel—”

  I fold my arms across my chest to keep him from approaching. I want him to take me in his arms. Jesus Christ, do I want to let him hold me. But if I do that, it’s only going to hurt worse if I leave.

  Has he touched me for the last time, I wonder? I don’t even remember when I touched him last. Sometime this morning, probably. When we kissed goodbye, maybe? I had put my finger on his chin, just to see what he felt like there. His stubble poked my fingertip. He has a cute chin. Handsome, just like the rest of him.

  Is that the last time I’m ever going to touch him?

  I close my eyes against the burn of tears.

  “I made some calls to the club on my way over here,” he says.

  “Yeah?”

  “They won’t budge. Not yet, anyway. I’m angry as hell, and they know that. But Antonio Gonzalez is a powerful bloke. Wants his nephew to have ‘the best experience possible’ or some rubbish like that. So they’re not budging on creating another spot for you. Yet.”

  I shake my head. “Fred, it’s over. I didn’t get the internship.”

  “It’s not over,” he replies forcefully. “I still have calls to make. My manager won’t be happy I’m upset. Neither will my sponsors…”

  I open my eyes. Meet his.

  “You’re not going to outmaneuver a billionaire, Fred. He owns the club. He owns you. He could care less about me.”

  “That’s not true,” Fred says. “He cares about me. Cares about keeping me happy, because I’m an asset to the squad. Which means he cares about you. Or he should.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But c’mon. We have to be real. The chances of me getting a place at the training facility are slim to none.”

  His face falls. He knows I’m right.

  “So where does that leave us?” he asks, quietly.

  I look away. Swallow. I wish things had worked out differently. I wish that more than anything.

  I was so happy before, when things were perfect. But who am I when things are deci
dedly not perfect? What do I do when things don’t work out like I want them to?

  “I’m not sure,” I say.

  “I want you to stay, Rachel. I want to be with you.”

  “I want to be with you, too. The past month has been…it’s been wonderful, Fred.”

  It’s been the happiest time of life.

  But that doesn’t mean staying in Madrid is the right choice for me right now.

  “Maybe you can get an internship with one of the other football clubs in Madrid—there’s three of them.”

  I shake my head. “Too late. And too uncertain. The internship back at Meryton—Fred, it’s be a game changer for me. They help place you in the best grad schools, and they give you scholarships if your grades are good enough. It’s an important step for my future. I’ve worked so freaking hard to get it.”

  Fred lets out a breath. “But what if your future is with me?”

  “What if it’s not?” I look at him. “What if we’re just not meant to be, Fred? We’ve known each other for all of a month. You have to admit it’d be crazy for me to give up my dream job for a guy I’ve just met.”

  “Is that all I am to you?” he says, stepping toward me. “A guy you’ve just met?”

  I don’t know how to answer that.

  “What about trying long distance?” I ask. “I don’t love the idea. But we could try it out, see if we can make it work?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m on the road every week. I’m all over Spain with the club. And when I’m called up for international duty, the travel is even worse. Flying back and forth over an ocean—I’m not going to have the time to do that.”

  “Which means I’d have to come here all the time,” I say. My heart sinks. “I have a full course load next semester. And then my internship starts in April…I mean. Yeah. I guess we’d just be prolonging the inevitable, wouldn’t we?”

  “Fuck,” Fred says, tugging a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Silence settles between us, heavy and unpleasant. We’re hammering our coffin shut, one nail at a time.

  “So it’d be your job or mine,” he says. “One of them would have to go for us to be together.”

  I nod. My throat’s closed up again. This is awful. My gut’s twisted in knots. I don’t know what it’s telling me to do.

  I do know that the rational decision is to take the internship at Meryton. I have to focus on building my career. A career I’m crazy passionate about. It’s the smart choice. The adult choice.

  Maybe that means it’s the right choice, too.

  “I can’t give up the internship,” I say. “Fred, I’ve busted my ass for years to get good grades and build a solid résumé. I can’t pass up this opportunity. I’m sorry.”

  Fred’s eyes are wet. Dark.

  I’ve hurt him. But what can I do? We have to be adults. There are important things at stake. Life changing things.

  I just hate seeing him look at me like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t know who I am anymore. The warmth in his eyes is gone. The happiness is gone.

  The lonely boy underneath the stairs is back.

  And it’s all my fault.

  Chapter 19

  Fred

  I blink, hard, struggling against the sting in my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I need to hold it together. Stay calm. Convince Rachel to fucking stay.

  It’s hard to stay calm, though, when I feel her slipping away from me.

  The late afternoon gloom makes her dorm room feel dark and claustrophobic. The edge of a beat-up suitcase peeks out from underneath her bed. Has she already started packing?

  Was this decision really so easy for her?

  “You’re sorry?” I say, shaking my head. “For what? For leaving? Or for not even considering staying with me in Spain?”

  Her black eyes flash with anger. “Would you consider leaving Spain for me?”

  “How can I? I gave up loads to get where I am. My contract is being renegotiated. I’m making an impact here.”

  “But you see how unfair that is, Fred—you asking me to give up my career when you won’t even consider making that sacrifice yourself. That’s bullshit.”

  “It’s just not done!” I blurt. “Footballers who play at my level—they don’t give up their careers. Not for family, not for girls. Not for anything.”

  Rachel holds up her hands. “God forbid the world stops revolving around you and your career. A career that’s clearly so much more important than mine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, Fred. You’re better than that.”

  I am being an asshole. I know it. But it’s the truth.

  “I can take care of you,” I try. “You don’t have to work at all if you don’t want to.”

  Rachel spears me with a look.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” she replies. “It’s insulting for one thing, and patronizing for another. You, more than anyone else, know how important my career is to me. And it’s never been about the money. If it were, I’d be heading home to take the MCAT and shadow some anesthesiologists for the summer. It’s about creating a happy life. A balanced life. And I think this internship is going to help me do that.”

  I look away. Look out the window. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  Rachel won’t give up her internship. I won’t give up my spot on the squad.

  Which means we can’t be together anymore. We’re choosing our careers—our dreams—over each other.

  “We have to be reasonable,” she’s saying. She’s right, of course. “And who’s to say our paths won’t cross somewhere down the road? I don’t know. Didn’t David Beckham play football in California or whatever? If we’re meant to be together, Fred, we’ll be together. Eventually.”

  I meet her gaze. She’s crying.

  “You really believe that?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says, firmly. But her eyes aren’t quite so confident.

  I wipe away a tear and look away again. The last time I cried, I was leaving home to go to the academy in Munich. I felt such a keen sense of loss then.

  It doesn’t even compare to the loss I feel now.

  But I’ve made my choice. I’d be mad to give up the career I’ve worked so hard to build.

  And I know, deep down, that Rachel would be just as crazy to give up hers.

  “That’s it, then,” I say. “You’re going home.”

  She nods, her hair falling over her shoulder. “My flight’s on Thursday. I’ve had it booked since the beginning of the semester. I didn’t want to change or cancel it with things being up in the air, so…”

  Thursday. The day after tomorrow.

  “We have two more days,” she offers, voice lilting with hope.

  I shake my head. “I leave tonight for Valencia, remember? I’m not back until Friday morning.”

  “Right,” she says, nodding. “So today’s our last day together, then.”

  “Yeah.” I toe an invisible mark on the carpet. “I suppose we won’t get to watch the vampire show with all the boobs, then.”

  She sniffs. “You could watch it on your own.”

  “No,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I don’t want to watch it without you.”

  The thought of watching it without Rachel—knowing my flat is going to be empty when I leave here, that it will be empty for a long time to come—it fills me with so much sadness I can’t breathe.

  I cry instead, hanging my head.

  Rachel’s crying, too. We’re both crying.

  “I fucking hate this,” she says. Her voice this thick.

  I lift my head to look at her. “I’m going to worry about you.”

  “Why?”

  “I worry that when you go back to Dallas—alone—you’ll end up doing what your mother pressures you to do. I think being away from her has given you courage. But when you’re around her again…she’s a bit of a bully, yeah?”

  “She is.” Rachel nods. “To be honest, I’m scared of that
happening, too. It’s not so much being away from my mom that’s given me courage. It’s being with you. And once we’re apart…”

  I manage a tight grin. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. And you can always call me, Rachel.”

  “I know. But it’s not going to be the same.”

  Of course it’s not going to be the same. What can we do?

  “Jesus, I’m going to miss you,” she breathes.

  She steps forward. Her arms are crossed protectively across her chest, but I can tell she wants me to hold her. I reach out and pull her to me. Without shoes on, she’s even shorter than usual; her head barely comes up to my chest. I hold her against me, resting my cheek on the top of her head. I inhale her scent, the shampoo and the perfume. I lock it away in a far corner of my memory.

  Her body is warm and soft. A flicker of heat ignites low in my belly. I’ve wondered if my raging desire for her would ever stop burning so hot.

  Rachel looks up at me. Searches my eyes.

  And then, before I know what I’m doing, I’m bending my neck and kissing her. I can’t help it. I have to kiss her one last time.

  It was less than three weeks ago that we were enjoying our firsts—first trip, first kiss, first fuck.

  And now, all of the sudden, we’re at our last kiss. How did it happen so quickly?

  I had no idea it would hurt so much.

  I open her lips with my tongue, tasting her, drinking her in. She moans into my mouth, a sound I’ve grown to adore. Her palms move up my chest, fisting my shirt in her hands, and she goes up on her toes to deepen the kiss. Her breasts are firm against my chest.

  This girl. My God, this girl.

  Rachel breaks the kiss. She tugs at my shirt, pulling it, hard.

  “You should go,” she says.

  “Okay,” I say.

  But she doesn’t take her hands off me. I wait a beat, then another.

  “How do we say goodbye?” she says, looking up at me. Her lips waver in and out of a smile.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”