“Hey,” Vienna greets, sliding into the booth across from me. She slips her bookbag off her shoulders and settles it next to her.
“Hi,” Pen chimes, slipping in the booth next to her.
She asked Vi and me to meet in the Student Union because we haven’t seen her much. Not that I’ve seen Vienna much either. Pen is busy with cheer, Vi with swimming, so it’s hard to get our schedules to align. Life of an athlete.
“Hey.” I shut my laptop with more force than I intended to.
Pen’s brows furrow, eyes darting to it. “Everything okay?”
I stagger, uncertainty gnawing at me.
I’ve been staring at the email Monica sent me since January; it’s already the beginning of March and I still can’t bring myself to reply. The only good thing I was able to do was open it and read what it says, but that’s as far as I got. Since then, all I’ve been able to do is stare at it.
Part of me wants to delete it and tell Monica to leave me alone. But the other, very small part of me wants to do it. It’snot because I miss swimming competitively, but everything else about it.
I’ve already shared about Daniel to Vi, and feel like I’ve opened myself up enough. But this is different and weighing down on me.
“Monica wants me to take the student assistant coach position.”
“Monica?” Pen tilts her head to the side.
“My coach, Director of Women’s Swimming,” Vi answers, a gleam shining in her eyes. “You should do it. That position is so hard to get. If Monica is personally reaching out to you, that means she wants you and only you. Holy shit, that’s awesome. Do it.”
I know it’s a big deal, but anxiety is a bitch, holding a gun to my head. The thought of being back there, a place Mom and I shared, the only thing that kept whatever relationship we had alive, messes with my head.
Shrugging, I brush it off. “I’m thinking about it. What’s been up with you guys?”
Maybe they can sense my apprehension, maybe not, but they thankfully change the subject.
Pen talks about the basketball team and how it’s uncertain if they’ll make it to the NCAA tournament coming up in two weeks. She said they’ve done decent this season but have lost their recent games, the worst one when they played North Carolina University two weeks ago. She said the only positive to watching that game was watching the NCU players. Apparently, they’re hot and she’s about to show us their Instagram, until she gets a message and begins acting weird.
“I’ll be back.” Her lips jerk like she’s trying to stop herself from smiling.
We watch as she scurries out of the Student Union, her lips blooming into a grin, until she disappears.
“Did you see her face?” Vi asks, still staring at the part she disappeared from. “It has to be a guy, and I hope to God it is. She needs to move on from her dick ex-boyfriend. I feel rage every time I see him.”
I feel the same way, but as much as we want to say something, we don’t. Pen doesn’t want us to and she’s too sweet; she just wants to keep the peace.
An idea comes to mind.
“You know…I have experience slashing tires.”
Just as I open my bedroom door, so does Daniel. He’s handsome as ever in a white T-shirt with the school’s logo, a siren sitting on a baseball and the word BASEBALL underneath it. He’s also wearing those dark short blue swim shorts that expose his muscular thighs, and his gold chain that he never takes off.
He hangs his towel around his neck and smiles at me. “I have something for you. I meant to give it to you a while ago, but with the moving and the season starting, I forgot.”
“For me?” I take the white, square envelope and when I flip it around, I realize it’s a CD sleeve and there’s one in it.Danny’s Holy Grail of Happiness, is scribbled on with a green marker, I can only assume is Sharpie. “You burned me a disc?”
He grabs both ends of the towel, nodding. “Something told me you’ve never had the privilege of downloading music illegally. I figured I’d bless you with a CD. And if you don’t like any of those songs, I don’t want to hear it. Matter of fact, you can’t dislike them.”
“I’m not sure I have anything to put this in.” I look at the writing again, my lips only stretching wider.
“I do have a stereo or a portable CD player, but you can also listen to it in your car.”
“Those things still exist?” I tease.
“I’m not sure.” His smile is tender and his eyes soften. “They’re both birthday gifts from years ago. Adrian and I both love music, so our parents gifted them to us. We had to share them of course. I’ve never been able to part with them.”
