Perhaps the price of dating a soccer star was the undeniable lack of privacy. Perhaps some would enjoy that mutual taste of fame and the covetous glances they would receive if they dated a star.

Dating the campus sun, as he was nicknamed. Chase Bonaventura, the team's star quarterback, is responsible for frequent victories in local and away games. Lady Our Grace had her own sun, her personal lucky charm, and coincidentally, it was your chemistry partner and current boyfriend.

Not that there was anything wrong with him. Heavens, Chasey was the definition of romance with the necessary playful charm and smooth talk to unsettle anyone. A sweet charm and a smile full of mischief and mysterious intentions.

The problem was fame. Or perhaps how he indulged too much in certain things and neglected others. You, in that aspect.

The metallic, robotic voice of the cell phone echoes through the apartment in a kind of masochistic punishment, for the nineteenth time. The same voice sending you to voicemail, with no message. Just a sigh as you realize you won't get through. Again.

The clock was ticking on the wall, the hours mocking her frustration and how again her boyfriend had sidelined her for something else. Anyone else.

Again. Without even hesitating.

The scented candles had melted down to nothing but a perfumed mess, corroded and worn wicks, the dinner long cold, and a feeling of abandonment hanging over the empty room.

The robotic voice switches back to her boyfriend's voicemail.

"Hi, this is Chase. I can't answer right now, leave your message and..." The phrase you heard dozens of times that night is muffled by the sound of keys.

The doorknob turning. Footsteps in the dark apartment. And a horrifyingly familiar scent.

"Baby..." He grumbles in surprise as he turns on the lights, finding you on the rug, an open bottle of wine and two glasses, but only one with traces of the dark, alcoholic sweetness.

He was still wearing his team shirt, but he smelled of cheap cologne. He had a bag of takeout food in his hand. Still so beautiful it hurts.

"Sorry..." He sighs, crouching down beside you and taking the bottle from you. "I was with Jess and Briana. Their father called me to..."

The words become empty in his ears. The ex's name, easily slipping from the lips. His lips still echoed her nickname. He was with his ex, and his ex's sister. Not with you. Not with your girlfriend.