CHAPTER SEVEN
I drop the half eaten sandwich on my desk and flop down on the bed. I worked so hard to be good at this job. Failing this close to the end sucks. There’s no better word. I suck. My body is legit tired. I’m not talking like I need a nap or an energy drink. This is the kind of tired that settles in your bones. The type no amount of sleeping will make better. I was half joking whenI suggested I should see the team psychologist a few days ago, but now the idea doesn’t seem so crazy. We can all use a little mental health on occasion, right?
My body and mind are so tired I’m not even going to move. I’ll lie here and sleep in my clothes tonight. Heck, would anyone even realize if I didn’t change them for tomorrow? I think I can get away with it.
I fluff my pillow preparingfor a night of rest. A long, peaceful — Oliver-free — night of rest. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning refreshed and ready to deal with him for another day. At least from a work standpoint, my heart may never figure out how I feel.
The door handle to my room moves, squeaking through the silence. “McKenna are you here?” Oliver knocks again.
I jump out of bed quickly to open the door because I wantto yell at him, not because I’m excited he came here to see me. “Did you try to barge in my room?”
He smiles and looks sheepish. “You should leave the door unlocked for me?”
“Why would I do that?”
He’s silent for a minute, thinking. “Then you wouldn’t have to get up to unlock it when I try to barge in.”
That’s a load of crap and we both know it, but there are bigger issues for us to argueabout than his rude entrance. “What you do you want, Oliver?”
He takes a step into my room, closing the door behind him. “I came to sleep with you.”
“What?” Thank God the door’s closed. There’s a small chance the whole hall didn’t hear my question.
It isn’t until he stops walking that I realize he’s carrying a pillow and the comforter from his bed. “It’s not safe for me to sleep alone, so I’llsleep on your floor.”
“You can’t sleep on my floor. You have a race tomorrow at the freakin’ Winter Games!”
He drops his pillow on the floor beside my bed, laying the comforter down next to it. “You can’t sleep on the floor. You’re a lady.” Oliver removes his shirt, balling it up and tossing it on the edge of my desk. “I told you, Kenny, it’s not safe for me in my room. Who knows who my roommatewill let in tonight.”
I forget my next argument as I stare at his naked chest, counting the little dips that mark his abs. He’s not safe in this room either. When I reach the end of his chest on the number six, I huff. So…he has an actual six pack. Not that I care. He probably spends too much time at the gym.
“What was that noise for?” he asks.
“You’re damn straight it’s not safe.” I reachbehind me and grab the large manila envelope I paid for earlier tonight. I toss it at him a little harder than I probably should, the edge hitting him right below his nipple. “I had to meet some freak in a scary dark parking garage today so these wouldn’t hit the papers tomorrow.”
Okay, so the garage wasn’t technically all dark and I wasn’t technically alone, but it was scary. I gave Asbellthe USB drives and most of the printed images, but kept a few for myself for just the situation. I hadn’t planned to yell at him until after he raced tomorrow, but if he walks in my room and makes a big show, I guess he can see them now.
Oliver doesn’t waste time. He rips open the package rather than using the top like a civilized person. He’s two pictures in when he says, “You went alone? Whydidn’t you tell me or Asbell? Someone should have gone with you.”
He flips through a few more pictures. “And I told you I don’t know this girl. My damn eyes aren’t even open in any of these pictures!” He throws the envelope and prints on my desk scattering them over the clean space.
“I know.”
“You know? If you knew they were fake, why pay money for them? Let them get printed.” His hands flywildly toward the desk in his obvious outrage.
“Let them get printed? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He can’t possibly be mad at me for stopping these pictures from going out to the public.
“I could’ve made a statement and told everyone they were fake.”
I laugh right in his face. “That’s not how it works and you know it. The first one to the media always gets the story. No onewould believe you. Especially the day of your race. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“Well it’s not fair,” he shouts, and I hope to God the walls aren’t as thin as everyone says they are. Otherwise we won’t need a paper to tell people what Oliver’s been doing behind closed doors.
“Lower your voice,” I shush him. “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it and next time be smarter. Don’t letsome bimbo in your room.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “I didn’t let the bimbo in my room. My roommate did. Go yell at him.”
Fake pictures are not the point. I had to pay him off so they wouldn’t be printed. One scandal like that could ruin someone’s career. Especially when you’re the new guy. From the drawer of matching USB drives I spotted in Asbell’s desk, I have a feeling Oliver isn’tthe only athlete to get hit by this guy’s scheme.
