Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen
Vanessa POV
Danny looked nervous, his hands fiddling with his coffee cup.
I should say no.
I should thank him for the coffee and go back to my dissertation, maintain the boundaries I'd set.
But I found myself nodding instead.
"Okay. Yeah. Just for a little while."
The relief on his face was almost painful to see, the relief I felt–well no one was going to talk about that.
We made our way to the library cafeteria, finding a small table near the windows that overlooked the quad.
Some students hurried past outside, bundled against the cold, and I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup, grateful for the warmth.
"So," Danny said, keeping his voice casual.
"How's the dissertation going?"
"It's going." I grimaced.
"Slowly. Very slowly."
"I thought we had enough material for you to start the parts about the psychoanalysis"
I blinked.
“You remember that?"
"Of course I do." He said it like it was obvious, like remembering the details of my academic life was the most natural thing in the world.
"We talked about it when we were researching. You seemed really excited about it."
I had been excited before the stress of actually writing it had set in.
"It's harder than I thought it would be," I admitted.
"Turns out analyzing the psychological impact of competition is a lot more complicated when you're trying to do it academically instead of just observing it." I drawled sipping my coffee again.
The conversation flowed better after the awkward start, Danny asked good questions.
Not just polite ones, but questions that made me think deeper about my own work and take down notes.
It was crazy how used to him I was,how I was able to read his mind and he mine.
“Have you tried comparing different sports instead of focusing solely on hockey.” he asked and I shrugged
"I am trying to get a range," I explained, pulling up my notes on my phone.
"Hockey, football, swimming, track. The idea is to see if the psychological impact varies by sport type—team versus individual, but the narrowed focus is hockey” I mumbled
"That's smart," Danny said, leaning forward.
"Because the pressure is different, right? Like, in hockey, if I mess up, it affects the whole team. But in swimming, it's just on you."
"Exactly." I felt myself getting animated, the way I always did when talking about my research.
"And the coping mechanisms are likely different too. Team sport athletes often have built-in support systems, but they also have to deal with letting others down. Individual athletes carry all the pressure themselves, but they also have more control."
"Have you interviewed anyone yet?" Danny asked.
"For the research?"
I hesitated.
"Not really, it's the second part of the article so I've been... avoiding it."
"Avoiding hockey players?" His voice was gentle, understanding.
"Avoiding all of it," I admitted.
"Athletes in general. I know I need to do the interviews, but every time I think about sitting down with someone..." I trailed off, shaking my head.
"I could get you some people to interview" Danny offered and I looked up at him, surprised
"Yeah." I said and he nodded, outside the clouds had started to break apart, letting weak November sunlight filter through.
"You know," Danny said slowly,
"If you need interview subjects, the team would probably be willing. I could talk to the guys."
"Danny—"
"I'm not trying to push," he said quickly.
“ It would be a few of my personal friends, I have some people in the swim club too” he mumbled and I paused.
"It would help your research so we're right here. And I know how important this is to you."
The offer was so genuine and thoughtful, plus he was right, it would help me. I felt my throat tighten.
"Thank you. I'll... I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking."
More silence but this time it felt charged, like we were both waiting for something neither of us wanted to name.
"Can I ask you something?" I said finally.
"For your research?" he asked and I nodded
"Sure."
"What do you think drives people to compete? Like, at the core of it. What makes someone willing to put themselves through all that pressure?
He paused, turning his cup as he considered the question.
"I think... I think it's about proving something. To yourself, mostly. That you're capable and you can overcome whatever obstacle is in front of you."
"And what if you can't?" I asked when Danny's voice had gone quiet.
"What if you try your hardest and you still fail?"
"Then you find out you're more than just that one thing," he said softly.
"You find out that failure doesn't define you unless you let it."
"Do you believe that?" I asked.
"I'm trying to believe it," he admitted shrugging
"It's harder than it sounds."
"Yeah," Danny said, his eyes not leaving mine.
"It really is."
The moment stretched between us, heavily. I should have looked away or changed the subject, done anything except sit there drowning in the blue of his eyes.
I swallowed and reached for my coffee at the same time Danny reached for a napkin. Our hands collided, and the brief contact sent electricity shooting up my arm. I jerked back like I'd been burned.
"Sorry," Danny said immediately, pulling his hand away.
"I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," I said quickly, too quickly. My heart was racing, and I could feel heat creeping up my neck.
Danny's jaw tightened, as he looked down at his hands, then back up at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"Vanessa," he said, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
"I need to say something, and I need you to hear me out. Okay?"
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"Okay."
"I don't want this to be fake anymore." The words came out in a rush, like he'd been holding them back for too long.
"This whole fake dating thing—I can't do it. I thought I could, but I can't. Because every time I'm with you, every time I see you smile or hear you laugh or watch you get excited about your research, I remember why I fell for you in the first place. And I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you. But Vanessa, I—"
"Danny, please—" I tried to interrupt, panic rising in my chest.
"Just let me finish," he pleaded.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me for what happened, hell I'm not even asking you to forget it. I just... I want a real chance. Not a fake relationship to make my teammates shut up or to help with your project. A real chance. To prove to you that I'm not that guy anymore. That I never was, not really."
My hands were shaking. I gripped my coffee cup tighter, using the pain of the heat against my palms to ground myself.
"I know it's a lot to ask," Danny continued, his voice rough.
"And I know you need time. But I can't keep pretending that what I feel for you is fake when it's the most real thing in my life right now. So I guess what I'm asking is... can you give us a chance? A real one?"
The noise in the cafeteria faded and all I could hear was my own heartbeat.I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He was asking for everything I'd sworn I wouldn't give anyone ever again.
"I—" I started, then stopped.
"I can't—"
The hope in his eyes flickered.
I stood abruptly, nearly knocking over my coffee.
"I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Vanessa, wait—"
But I was already gathering my things, shoving my phone and notebooks into my bag with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," I said again, not looking at him because if I looked at him, I might break.
"I just—I can't do this right now."
I fled before he could respond, practically running out of the cafeteria. Behind me I heard him call my name once more, but I didn't stop.
Because if I stopped, if I turned around and saw the hurt on his face, I might actually be brave enough or stupid enough to say yes.
And that scared me more than anything.