A little smile curves her lips, but her eyes are less than cheery. “I know you’re happy to be here, but sometimes the transition onto the team can still be difficult. Sometimes the things we’re most excited about can still bring on anxiety. You seemed a little…restless during the last half of practice.”
I feel like this is a test. Is she testing me? Part of me wonders if she’s mistaking my fidgeting for nervousness. I can’t bring myself to correct her and tell her it’s most likely the ‘ol ADHD. Instead, I say, “I’m not anxious. Excited, yes. But I feel fine. I mean, I’ve been looking for a new roommate, but I’ve got it under control.”
“I thought you had a roomie? I’ll keep an eye out for you.” She tilts her head, steps back, and checks her watch. "Regardless, we're so happy to have you on the team. We all recognize how long you’ve wanted this. We admire your ambition, but we just want to make sure you’re upholding the Kings’ image in every aspect. And we want to know if there’s a way we can help you do that.”
Apparentlyallegedanxiety doesn’t fit their aesthetic. I doubt my specific flavor of ADHD does either.
“Of course. Yes. I appreciate that.”
My brain buzzes as I offer Stacey a wave and flouncedown the hallway as though everything is perfectly fine. Which I thought it was… until I was pulled aside. Staring up at her, a dozen other previous teachers, parents, and bosses flash before my eyes. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have a “check-in” with a superior. A familiar unease bursts through me.
“What was that about?” Larissa pops out of the shadows, giggling when I gasp at her sudden appearance. “You told me to wait for you.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I clear my throat. “She was just asking how I’m doing.”
Larissa’s brows knit. “And how are you doing?”
“Fine. Obviously.”
She tilts her head, her lips parting as though she’s about to ask something else, but her phone rings, saving me from an excuse or a lie or whatever my little brain would have concocted. She presses it to her ear as we arrive at our cars, and I’m grateful to have a few minutes to calm my nerves as she wraps up the conversation.
“That was Josh. He’s with Ryan. Which reminds me, I forgot to send you Ryan’s pic.” She swipes through her phone, then holds it out, and there on the screen is some guy with buzzed black hair.
“He’s cute.” He’s no Ty, but he’s not bad.
“He wants to meet you.”
I unlock my car door, avoiding eye contact. “Oh?”
All I want is to be home curled up on that squishy couch with Dollyboy, staring at a windowsill of plants, Ty’s sounds reverberating down the hall as he does his little mundane tasks like organizing his pantry and working out. An unexpected giddiness vibrates throughme, and I stop in my tracks like someone just yoinked my ponytail.
You didn’t just get excited about your roommate. Yeah, Ty’s hot. And he’s nice to your cat. But he—correction, his house—is not home. Ty is a friend with a room. That’s it.
If anyone could hear my thoughts, there’s no doubt they’d think I was losing my mind. And who’s to say. Maybe I am a little. It’s been a long month.
“You don’t have to meet up with him alone. We could do a little double date.” Her eyes light up as she leans on my car. “Please? It’s so fun hanging out with other couples.”
Eh. I can’t say I agree, but I keep that to myself. Throwing my bag into the car, I continue to avoid her question.
“You know, if things go well, maybe you and Ryan can go to the Santa Mirada Masquerade with us next month. It’s a costume ball! Josh’s company handled all the marketing, so they gave him some comps as a thank you.”
“A ball? Those are still a thing?”
She nods, barely containing her excitement. “It’s like a super early Halloween thing. A masquerade. Josh insisted we go. Sometimes he’s so romantic it’s cheesy.”
A green smog comes over me thicker than Vista City’s. Immediately, I recognize it and bat it away. There’s no reason to be envious of what she has. A stable, lasting relationship is a luxury I’ve never been able to afford. The hope still remains that someday I’ll find someone, but I have a feeling it isn’t Ryan.
Stop being so pessimistic, Avery.
Actually, a date might be just the thing I need to keepme from fantasizing about my roommate rearranging his pantry.
“We should probably hang out at least once before I commit to aball.”
Larissa squeezes me into a hug, excitement rolling off her.
“Text me the details, and I’ll be there,” I add.
She waves goodbye, yapping about how great Ryan is all the way to her car. Blowing an exaggerated kiss, she finally dives into her seat and shuts the door.
