• • •

Sometimes, Laken wondered if she would ever be completely satisfied.

Not like after you eat and are happy your food was good, but that deep sense of satisfaction that old ladies always talked about.

Her entire life, she had never gone without anything, and she always got what she asked for. Some might have seen it as spoiled.

She didn't disagree.

She was spoiled. Dramatic. Reckless. Self-serving—The list went on, and those she could acknowledge. Satisfied, though, it depended on the day when you asked her.

And at three am on a Thursday, Laken wasn't satisfied. That was the explanation she'd give if Noah came in the bathroom and saw her calling Wes.

He didn't answer immediately—Laken didn't care. She kept calling because she knew he was awake.

When something was bothering him, he had a habit of either not sleeping, or sleeping so lightly that a feather falling on the floor could wake him up.

"What?"

"You're a real piece of shit." She was across the apartment, but she still talked low, "I can't believe you did that."

"I couldn't believe you did that either."

Laken scoffed, "What did you gain? At least I got something out of being a shitty person."

"You may have. He didn't—it's three in the morning and you're calling me."

She hung up.

Again, that's not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to apologize for what he did, she'd forgive him, go back to sleep.

Life was not cooperating right now. To add to that, she let him get the last word again. Maybe logic was better than emotion since all of his 'insults' were logical, hers weren't.

Losing arguments, losing sleep—losing jobs.

That's what made her call. Laken had been fired.

Not technically, but she received a call from the school board stating they didn't like the unwanted attention on their school. Said they hoped she would consider the effect it would have on the students, as well as the respect they may fail to give her.

The same students who had snowball fights, food fights, regular fights—Those students.

They were already hesitant to let her work there from the beginning, but there wasn't a reason for them not to hire her.

Now there was.

She pressed the contact again, waiting for him to answer, "Do you know I had to quit?"

"What?"

"I said, do you know I had to quit? Probably because some old lady who shouldn't even be on the internet, saw that shit and asked me to 'weigh my options'."

To his credit, Wes hadn't expected it to go that far, "No, I didn't know that."

"Isn't that crazy? You kept asking me to quit my job, now I finally didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice. The consequences of choices are what you can't control."

"It's literally your fault. I did what I did, sure, but don't pull some shit out of a self-help book after you fucked up my life."

Wes sighed. It was long, exasperated, "That wasn't my intention."

"Then what was?"

She'd wanted to ask him that from the moment he did it, but she let Noah get her over it—Laken didn't necessarily need to know.

On Tuesday when she got that call, she needed to know. No, she didn't think this was the end-game he was going for. But intentions didn't really matter compared to outcomes.

"It doesn't matter. Just know it wasn't that." Wes said, "I'll apologize for that part, but not the rest. Fuck you and him."

That time, he hung up.

She didn't go back to sleep after. Laken wandered around moving shit that didn't need to be moved. Taking out food to thaw before dinner.

By the time she climbed back into the bed, Noah's alarm was going off. Still, Laken pressed against him, lining his face with kisses, "I made you breakfast."

"Thank you." He rolled on his back, "What you doing today?"

"I don't know."

"You been up since two and don't have nothing planned?"

Laken stopped kissing him.

Not because of the question, but because she didn't know that Noah realized she left the bed that night.

She thought over his question and while she didn't find it combative, Laken knew him well enough to know that he phrased it that way for a reason.

So, that made her admit, "I was arguing with Wes."

"That's not what I was asking—You been in the house every day just sitting here waiting for me to get home."

Oh. She didn't know him well enough.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Noah sighed, "I want exactly what I just said. For you to go somewhere. Do some shit."

"Okay." She thought about it, "Do you think if you found out you couldn't play football anymore you'd be over it in two days?"

"I'm not finna argue with you, Lake."

"Why would it be an argument? I'm asking a question."

"It start as a question—stop tryna' turn shit into something it's not. All I'm saying is leave the house, stop sitting in whatever you feel."

Laken nodded, "'Whatever I feel'."

"I'll see you later."

• • •

Noah proceeded to have a terrible morning.

He slept like shit, Laken wanted to argue, he forgot a play they'd explicitly told them to learn the night before.

Now, film.

He already had trouble staying awake on a day when he got ten hours of sleep, imagine sitting in that cold ass room off of four.

At least, that's the excuse he gave himself when he gave the wrong answer to Coach's question.

Multiple times.

It got to a point where they just disregarded him completely—he didn't care. Shit, it was a welcomed change. He would do better tomorrow.

Jalen kicked his leg when his eyes fluttered, and Noah stood up, moving to the back of the room to stand. It was the only way he'd make it through this.

A fucking rookie keeping him awake. He was grateful and embarrassed at the same time knowing that he was a few seconds from snoring in these folks facility.

It was his fault entirely that he hadn't gone to sleep on time. In an effort to prove that he could be available for Laken whenever, he listened to her vent for hours.

Noah didn't mind, he just was paying for it now. To make it worse, she woke up on bullshit—that's if she even went to sleep.

He just had to make it to the weekend. Then, he could sleep all day.

Until he remembered Laken wanted to go to a concert. Or maybe a festival? What the fuck was the difference? The thought made him groan internally.

When the room turned to look at him, he realized he'd made the sound aloud, bending to rub his thigh, "My bad—quad stiff."

If they thought he was lying, nobody said anything. Plays resumed and questions kept getting asked and answered.

When Coach dismissed them, Noah tried to make it to the parking lot unbothered, only to have to turn around when his name was called.

It was the team's social media intern. He watched her approach until she stood right in front of him, "Can you do a video for the team's TikTok?"

"I did one, like two weeks ago."

"And it went viral." Lauren smiled, "So do another one."

"You know I have to do 'em for free? I don't even get a cut."

"It's a fun game." Lauren produced a jar, "Just pick a jellybean and answer a question that matches the color of the bean."

"Let me see the questions."

"That's cheating."

He sighed and dug through the jar, pulling out a yellow piece of candy, "Ask me."

"What's the worst thing a fan—or anybody has ever said to you?"

Harmless, but Noah wished Lauren had left it at 'fan'. The addition of 'anybody' took him back seven years.

Children were cute when they weren't crying. Funny, sometimes, when they weren't crying. Okay to be around, when they weren't crying.

Moral of the story, from what Noah knew with his limited experience, all they did was cry.

And shit. Can't forget that.

Noah still wanted kids. Just not right now—not when he was one year away from having his life's work pay off. He honestly didn't want them until he was in his thirties; when he retired from the NFL.

He remembered his dad being gone all the time. His schedule was worse because he played in the NBA, and an eighty-two game season, not including if they made the playoffs, only really gave them summers together.

So, again, he wanted kids later in life.

Not at twenty-one.

Noah guessed it didn't really matter now, though, as he sat on the bathroom floor beside Laken waiting for the five minutes to be up. Neither of them spoke, and Noah didn't try to fill the silence, especially when he didn't know what to say.

If the pregnancy test was positive, maybe his mom would move to wherever he got drafted.

It sounded like logistics to him. He was good at that, he could make it work. It wasn't about love, that part was easy—he'd love his child just as much as he loved Laken.

More, even.

He didn't even know his brain could think that fast, but by the time Laken sighed and stood up, he was fine with either outcome.

Laken, however, was not.

"Oh my God." She cried into her hands, "What the fuck?!"

"It's positive?"

She nodded, sliding down the wall, "What are we gonna do, Noah? I can't believe this shit."

"It's cool." He moved closer to her, "We'll figure it out."

"Of course you say that—You'll be gone for half of their life."

He'd already thought about that part, "My mama will move or something. Carmen too, you know that."

It never occurred to Noah that he should ask Laken what she wanted to do. He didn't realize she would be so upset about being pregnant with his child.

He didn't have to ask anyway. She told him.

"I don't want it."

"Do you have that many?" Lauren asked with a smile.

"Uh." Noah scratched his nose, "A fan told me before they'd kill me if I fucked up their parlay."

She laughed, "Did you mess it up?"

"I'm still here ain't it?"

• • •

It wasn't surprising when he got home that Laken was in the living room with a blanket over her head. The curtains were drawn, the tv was on but he knew she wasn't watching it—her entire face was covered.

Fuck Wes.

Noah wanted to sleep. It'd been on his mind all day, and he finally had a chance at a nap that would probably turn into him being asleep all day.

Still, "You ate?"

"No. My stomach hurts."

He was hoping she'd say yes, but if anxiety was keeping her from eating, "Come take a nap with me."

"Okay." The covers came down at least, "Carry me."

"The way my legs burning, I need you to carry me."

Laken just lifted her arms above her head, likely knowing he would in fact take her into the room.

And he did.

Noah felt her inhale against his shirt, but he didn't make a joke like he usually would. He'd obviously underestimated the weight of everything.

He could reason with the fact that everything was happening at once. What he struggled with was that Laken acted like it was happening to her.

Noah would never verbalize that. He'd played with the wording a few times and it never sounded right, so he kept it to himself.

Both things could be true. But right now, the only truth he saw was that Laken was hurt, upset, sad—all the above.

He was nearly asleep when she spoke again, "I think you were super insensitive this morning."

"About which part?" One of his eyes opened, "Leaving the house?"

"No. I need to get out; I know that much. I meant The 'whatever I feel' comment."

"I genuinely do not know what you feel. I've asked multiple times you never say what it is that have you walking around all night, not eating—I can only assume."

"You're acting like I'm doing it on purpose. I don't know. This is my first time experiencing any of this. Do I not get a trial version?"

"Lake, did I complain? Did I come to you with a complaint or what I thought was a solution?"

Noah wasn't new to this. The exact situation? Of course not, but he'd seen the highest of highs and the lowest lows—He didn't have the excuse of feigning ignorance.

He wouldn't even say that he'd thought she changed. It just didn't bother him. He was a happy citizen in Laken's world of bullshit.

To him, it was worth it.

"I could've worded the shit better." He continued, "Next time I will."

Laken pressed her lips against his chest, "Thank you for acknowledging it."

That really could've been the end of it.

Of course it wasn't.

"Can we go—"

"To sleep?" His hand covered her mouth, "Yes we can."

• • •

if you disagree w your partner, do you automatically think you're arguing? or is it just a difference in opinions?

thanks for reading 🫶🏽