"Welcome to Les Prix d'Excellence Jeunesse, Mr. Reynolds," a girl about my age purred, her voice laced with a fake sweetness of a tired concierge.
I accepted the card with my room number painted in golden italics, managing only a tight-lipped smile before nodding curtly and turning away.
Life, as I've come to learn, is a capricious journey. Never did I imagine standing here today, as captain of the U.S. football team, representing my country on the grandest stages. It was a dream I scarcely dared to embrace, made possible by one person.
I couldn't disrespect what she'd taught me or the changes she'd wrought in me. It was her influence that guided me, her teachings echoing in my decisions. So, I followed my heart and pursued my passion.
Navigating the hotel lobby, I headed for the elevator, glancing at my keycard before pressing the button for the twenty-second floor. I retreated into my thoughts, seeking respite from the clamour of fame and expectation.
As the elevator slowed to a stop, I walked through the deserted lobby toward the hotel penthouse. Inside, my belongings lay neatly arranged, a testament to the efficiency of the hotel staff. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me; I'd arrived from Munich just an hour ago for the International Football Association meeting, before jetting here.
Changing into more comfortable attire, I collapsed onto the bed. The television flickered to life, a news channel covering the event that brought me here.
The reporter stood outside the hotel amidst a throng of fans, banners waving fervently. The "Les Prix d'Excellence Jeunesse" was touted as the year's most anticipated event, celebrating nominees under forty excelling in their respective fields.
"Celebrities, sportspersons, artists, scientists, and entrepreneurs have descended upon the prestigious event of the year, 'Les Prix d'Excellence Jeunesse'. This eagerly anticipated gathering celebrates individuals under forty who have demonstrated excellence in their respective fields. The atmosphere outside the venue buzzes with fervour as fans congregate, eagerly showing their support."
The reporter shifts her attention to a jubilant girl holding a "We Love You William" banner. "It's clear you're rooting for William," she says, turning towards the camera with enthusiasm. "And we're talking about none other than William Gatterman, captain of the Australian Cricket Team."
The girl leapt with excitement, shouting, "He's going to win!"
Amidst the fanfare, the reporter notes the escalating excitement among the crowd, prompting the hotel to bolster security measures due to the surging number of attendees.
"Among the early arrivals are notable nominees such as William Gatterman, captain of the Australian Cricket Team, and our own charismatic Raymond Reynolds, captain of the U.S. football team."
"In the business category," the reporter continues, "we have Yel-en Dang, CEO of Aurora from China, Enighbam Longhach, CEO of Vostro series from Germany, and Levin Lockhard, CFO of Borealis from Finland."
"In the science category," she adds, "we have the promising and youthful-"
With a sigh, I turned my attention to the plush bathroom, its marble surfaces gleaming under soft and ambient lighting. Stepping into the spacious shower, steam began to rise, enveloping me in warmth and momentarily soothing my restless mind. The week's schedule promised a Mixer Party at eight tonight, which would give me some time to explore.
Dressed in a maroon V-neck t-shirt and dark jeans, I laced up my sneakers and stepped out of my room. After exploring some parts of the Hotel, I stumbled upon a library and started walking towards it. Although I have not been particularly fond of books, I did read them when I find myself on the verge of boredom.
Among the shelves, my footsteps faltered as I as I took in the appearance of the person standing in front of me.
In a simple black dress that tantalizingly grazed above her knees, her dark-brown hair cascaded in a neat ponytail. Red lipstick accentuated her lips, making them all the more enticing.
I clenched my fists struggling to maintain composure, battling the overwhelming urge to reach out and feel the silkiness of her skin. Did she still taste the same? Like strawberries and summer evenings. I wanted to touch her again, to feel the warmth of her skin against mine. To lose myself in her. Again.
My heart skipped a beat as beads of sweat formed on my brow and I struggled to steady my breath. She remained engrossed in her reading, oblivious to my presence, while I stood captivated and transported back seven years in an instant.
In that moment, it felt as though only she and I existed in the room. My senses tingled in a moment fraught with unspoken history; after seven years, she still held the same inexplicable power over me.
Looking back, I realised that life was a heap of moments. Some were happy, filled with laughter and warmth. Others were full of sorrow, tainted by loss and regret. But most were empty, lost in the blur of daily routine.
Distracted by the relentless pursuit of my goals, and the pressure to fit in. I stopped living in the present. Mind always busy with to-do lists and what-ifs. Only worries consumed my thoughts. And amidst all that, I forgot to savour the now, the fleeting seconds that could never be reclaimed.
When I close my eyes and drift back to that time in high school, I think about her. When I had her by my side, her presence turned the mundane into something special, making even the emptiest moments worthwhile. Her laughter was my lifeline, sweeping away the worries of life. In those moments, all I wanted was to keep that smile on her face forever, mostly because it made me feel like I belonged. I did not merely exist in the world but belonged.
That I belong to her.
I didn't realize what I had, what she meant to me, until she was gone and it was too late. Then, in the quiet moments of reflection, I always reminded myself of all that I had missed. It was the smallest of moments, the ones that seemed insignificant to most, but to me, they were everything.
I missed our late-night talks, the kind that stretched into the early hours, where every word felt like a caress. I missed our study dates, the comfort of her presence beside me, the way her hand would brush against mine, igniting sparks that lit up my soul. I missed walking down the hallway, our fingers entwined, the world fading away, leaving just us. I missed the heat of her body next to mine, the rhythm of our hearts beating in unison. I missed her teaching me, her voice gentle and patient, her laughter filling the silence of the library. I missed her sarcastic comebacks, the sharp edge of her wit that always caught me off guard. I missed everything we did, every stolen moment, every shared dream.
I missed the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about her dreams, a light that had the power to brighten even my darkest days. And most of all, I missed the taste of her lips on mine, a kiss that had the power to transport me to a place where time stood still and we were the only thing that mattered.
When I was with her, I was me. I didn't care about my bad-boy reputation. I didn't care about disobeying my father. I didn't give two shits about anything in the world. I had no worries.
And now, here she was. In front of me, and I couldn't even move. It felt like I was glued to the ground. I wanted to talk to her, apologize for all that went down between us. But most of all I wanted to feel the comfort of her arms around me.
She probably wouldn't want that from me.
I was trying to summon the courage to go talk to her. Just say hi, maybe. Isn't that what ex-lovers do, after all? Exchange a few pleasantries and move on with life. I knew deep down that no matter how much I might still wanted her, she didn't feel the same.
After taking a deep breath, I finally made up my mind and forced my legs to move. As the distance between us closed, my heartbeat raced. With every step, I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. My steps halted as I stood two feet from her. She soon realized my presence and looked up. Her light brown eyes gazed at me.
One glance, and those beautiful brown eyes knocked the air from my lungs. My heart started doing some crazy dance, and a lump formed in my throat. Her eyes widened with realization, and pure shock painted her face.
" Hey," those words slipped from my lips as her gaze locked onto mine.
"Hi," she replied, her eyes holding me captive.
"How are-" My words were abruptly interrupted by someone else.
"There you are!" We both turned to the sound of the voice.
"Hey, sweetheart," a guy walked towards us and then his arms encircled Sophie's waist, his lips pressing gently against her temple.
"Uh, hey, Justin," she responded, her eyes darting everywhere but towards me. An uneasy tension settled between us.
I clenched my jaw.
Of course she had moved on. It had been seven fucking years.
"Uh-maybe we should catch up sometime. See you around? " I managed to ask.
"I hope not," she said with a tight-lipped smile. Her words cut through me as she turned away, the other guy's arm still around her waist, and they left the library together.
I stood there unable to process the flood of emotions crashing over me as I watched her disappear into the bustling lobby.
