[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Tristan
Hannah's blue eyes widened as they locked onto me.
"Tristan?" she murmured, looking completely caught off guard.
Any other time, I might have savored this new expression of hers, teased her about it while anticipating her snappy reply — but right now I needed to know what she was talking about. Despite my intention to pull back, all I could feel was an internal gut wrench at the thought of Hannah leaving. It felt like I'd really lose her if she left and that made my heart squeeze painfully with fear. I almost objected out of sheer fucking instinct.
"Answer me, Hannah. What do you mean you might be leaving soon?" And where the hell was she going?
The question seemed to snap her out of her daze. Her expression shifted — guilt and panic flitted across her face. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
J... Juniper cleared her throat. "I should probably get back to the others. I think Matthew's calling me," she announced, but neither of us paid attention as she left.
"It's been so long since we saw each other. I... missed you?" Hannah grimaced, like even she knew how weak her attempt to change the subject was.
"Stop dodging the question." My jaw clenched, annoyed by her evasion tactics.
She folded her arms, shooting me an irritated glare before eventually relenting with a sigh of defeat. "I'm doing my internship this year, and depending on where I end up, I might have to transfer. That could mean moving to another state. It's a pretty long-term commitment, and there's a chance I'll finish my final year there," she explained, her gaze dropping to the ground. "And my best choice is looking like it's in Washington, D.C. Well, I have two other choices I like, but they're still across state lines."
Fuck. We really had no chance now, huh? I let out a short, humorless laugh. Fuck me if this wasn't a sign.
Looking back at her, I asked, "How long?"
"How long?"
"How long until you leave?"
She winced. "Still a while. Well — a little while. A week. A couple of days... five days... That might be it."
Her words hit me like a punch to the chest, nearly knocking me over from the impact. Five days? Just five days before she had to leave? Was she ever going to tell me? Did I even deserve to know? Or was it simply luck that I found out now?
Logically, I should've been relieved. It would solve some of the problems that had been eating at me. We'd agreed this thing between us was temporary. It wasn't like we were in love — hell, I couldn't be in love with someone I'd only known for two months. Those sorts of feelings took time to develop, didn't they? They didn't just appear out of thin air.
"I don't know when I'm leaving for sure," she added quickly. "That's just the deadline to reply. I still have to sign a bunch of papers, begin the transfer process, tell my parents..." She trailed off, looking sheepish.
