COLTON
OCTOBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
“Why in theflying fuck were you at a college party? At the hockey house of all places? Making out with your girlfriend while underage drinking took place all around you?”
With each sentence, I sank deeper into the chair across from Coach’s desk. “Do you want the real answer?”
He made a scrunched up face of utmost pain and shook his head. “Do I?”
I pressed my lips into a line, trying to figure out how to say it without exposing the bookish part and Vi’s healing journey. “She’s my college girlfriend?—”
“You’re dating a girl in college?” The team’s PR rep, Miranda, sat up straight in the chair next to me, jotting notes on a legal pad and wearing a sweatsuit since it was a Saturday. I’d have to send her something nice. I felt like a real shithead for having people come in on their day off because I wanted to act out some book scene with Violet.
And anyway, why did everyone think I was dating a college student? “No, she’s the girl I dated while I was in college, okay? And we were feeling nostalgic and I honestly didn’t know wewere at the hockey house.” The memory of Vi pointing out the jersey on the wall nagged at me. Better to not mention that part. The fewer details, the better.
“You couldn’t have gone to a college bar?” Coach asked.
Well, sure, we could have, but the college romance took place at a house party, and for authenticity’s sake?—
“Pay attention, Jones!” Coach barked.
“Sorry, sorry.” Guess I’d zoned out. “I know it was a little reckless, but I still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought we’d get in trouble.”
Miranda coughed a humorless laugh. “Well, for starters, there’s a high probability that some or all of those kids were underage, and as the responsible adults on the premises, you could be liable if something bad happened that night.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“And from a morality standpoint, you’re a leader at the highest level of your sport. You’re not supposed to be getting caught in places you have no business being.”
I winced and bobbed my head. “Understood.”
“They could also say you’re distracted, and not playing well because of that,” she stated plainly.
I objected. “I am playing well!”
Coach put a hand out to calm me. “He is. About the only one playing well, actually.”
“Okay, well, people could say you’re not acting like a leader.” She didn’t look up from where she scribbled notes. “Who is your girlfriend’s employer?”
“She’s actually . . . just a friend.”
Coach flopped back in his rolling chair and Miranda closed her eyes to prepare for his lecture. “What is this, high school? Do you need to issue her a promposal? You were all over her! I know the kids these days never want to put ‘labels’ on anything, but I’ve got a team to run, and your bullshit is going to be fixedexactly how she—” he pointed to Miranda— “decides it should be fixed. If she says she’s your girlfriend, then she’s your girlfriend. Got it?”
Yes, I was massively in the doghouse. Yes, my team was my top priority, and fixing this had to occur at any cost.
But I had to advocate for Vi’s needs. She’d been clear that we just needed to be friends while she’s working through the tough stuff.
“I feel like I should at least talk to her,” I said. “She has a job to think about too.”
“Yeah, back to that,” Miranda said. “Where does she work?”
“She works in one of the university buildings, but I’m not sure who signs her paycheck. She’s a researcher. Scientist.”
Miranda grimaced. “People have been let go for less.”
“Fuck.” I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I didn’t want Violet to get in trouble. What if she lost her job over this? She might never forgive me.
Miranda sat up and held up one finger while she scribbled some notes at the bottom of the page, circling them in a way that could only be described as violent. “Coach, do you know the university’s coach?”
