Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Scary Hockey Player
Jameson Sinclair
I don’t think I smiled this much when I got offered my hockey scholarship.
But every time I recall Marigold holding that little Styrofoam cup, I find my lips tugging up uncontrollably.
Nash thought aliens had abducted me and traded me out for an AI clone because of how happy I was after the game.
He kept asking me questions only the real Jameson would know.
Except I didn’t know half the answers. At the end of his interrogation he just hummed and then left me alone.
It’s the next day, and I’m still thrilled with how well the gesture was received.
She didn’t thank me, but she also didn’t throw everything away and yell at me either.
It’s a step. A baby step, but a step nonetheless.
Now I just have to keep momentum. My annotated copy of Julius Caesar is in my bag.
I think I’ll leave it on her news desk for her to find the next time she comes in this week.
When I enter the newsroom for our work hour, I catch an intense-looking conversation between Paisley and Marigold.
“I’ll be fine,” Marigold insists. “It’s just like the party we went to the other night.”
My smile flips into a frown. The last thing I want to hear about is Marigold going to another frat party. Why would she want to, anyway?
“It is not, it’s much more—”
Marigold spots me and cuts off Paisley’s sentence. Paisley glances over at me from her spot on Marigold’s desk.
“You know we have chairs, right?” I ask as I head to my desk.
Paisley rolls her eyes in response, then looks at Marigold.
“You should ask James to go with you.”
“Absolutely not, and if you tell him about this, I’m not speaking to you for at least a month,” Marigold hisses.
My brows rise. “Where am I going?”
“If I tell you, will you promise that the story is Marigold’s and you won’t try to take it from her?” Paisley asks.
“I would never do that,” I say, to which Marigold scoffs her disbelief.
“I don’t need him,” she insists.
“Yes, you do. Even if I was willing to go—which I am not—neither of us are scary enough to fend off nonsense. You need scary-hockey-player privileges, which James has in spades.”
My curiosity and concern are piqued. Paisley loves adventure, so it must be something pretty bad for her to want Marigold to have protection.
“I’ll sign something saying I won’t share about whatever it is,” I offer.
Marigold shakes her head, but Paisley’s eyes light up. Paisley snags a stack of sticky notes and a pen off Marigold’s desk and begins scribbling.
“Paisley, I said no.” Marigold tries to grab the sticky notes, but Paisley hops off the desk and crosses the aisle to me.
“Sign by the X,” she says, holding out the stack of lavender paper.
I, James Sinclair, promise to keep the information about Marigold’s article confidential and not steal it for my own use. I also vow to keep her safe at all costs.
Both of those things are easy in my book, so I scrawl my signature beside the X. Paisley takes it back, inspects it with far too much drama, then nods.
“Do you want to fill him in?” Paisley asks a scowling Marigold. When no reply comes, she continues in a low voice. “Marigold found out about an underground fraternity fight club. She’s going tonight at midnight to get details and plans on writing an article about it.”
My eyes widen. That’s not what I expected. I’ve heard a few rumors about a fight club, but nothing concrete enough to make me think it’s worth chasing as a story. I know Marigold wouldn’t go after anything she didn’t have evidence to be true, though.
“I can come with you. I think Paisley’s right. We’ve got no idea what goes on there. It wouldn’t be good for you to show up alone,” I say.
Marigold crosses her arms, clearly unhappy.
“Look, I won’t do anything but stand beside you and fend off any idiots. We don’t even have to talk.”
“He’ll be your sentry. Silent and scary,” Paisley adds with a smile. I nod in agreement.
Marigold sighs. “Fine, but emphasis on the silent aspect. I want to do this my way, no interference.”
“Of course,” I say, though worry pricks at my mind. Marigold’s way can be a touch on the aggressive side. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to poke at people who fistfight for fun.
“Meet me outside Alpha Pi at 11:30,” she grumbles.
“How about I meet you outside your building around eleven?” I counter.
Paisley is smiling. Marigold is not.
“Okay.”
Her response—much like the hot cocoa cup—isn’t much to go on, but it’s a step in the right direction. I think.
“Belmore, Sinclair!” Charlie shouts, startling all three of us. Charlie walks down our aisle with a grin. “After going over it with the editors, I’ve decided your article belongs on the cover.”
I immediately turn to Marigold to get her reaction. A smile lights up her face and steals the breath out of my lungs.
“Thank you,” she says, sounding like she’s in shock.
“Thanks, Chief,” I add, knowing Charlie likes to be called that.
Charlie dips his chin. “I reward good work. Keep it up, you two. I’m looking forward to the next one.”
As soon as Charlie is back in his office, Paisley attacks Marigold with a hug. I stay in my seat, wishing I could do the same.
“Your first cover piece!” Paisley squeals.
Marigold laughs. “I mean, it’s not all mine.”
I shake my head. “It’s mostly yours,” I say, and Marigold’s expression falters.
I’m sure she’s thinking of the compliment she gave me in the past, where she said she read all my articles. I know I am.
“We need to celebrate,” Paisley says as she pulls away, oblivious to the tension between Marigold and me. “Should we go get coffee and pastries after we finish up here?”
Marigold’s eyes catch mine for a second before she focuses on Paisley. If we were celebrating, we’d be heading to get ice cream floats. The loss of that tradition hurts, but I have hope we can get it back one day.
“Yeah, that would be great,” Marigold replies with a smile too tense to be real.
“This is an occasion worth going off campus. Oh! What if we go to The Secret Door? Books and coffee, your favorite,” Paisley babbles.
The Secret Door is a local bookstore that has a lounge area hidden behind the shelves.
You tug on a certain book, and it leads you into a place to read, relax, and enjoy a beverage.
I’ve been a handful of times, most of those with Marigold when we were in high school.
We’d spend hours scouring the shelves for special editions of her favorite classics.
“Sounds perfect.” Marigold’s voice is stilted. She glances at me, not realizing I’m already staring at her. She blushes and averts her gaze to her desk once more.
Each of us settle into our tasks. It’s difficult to focus when I can sense Marigold’s gaze throughout the work period. But I manage to get a little bit of writing done.
When our scheduled time is up, Paisley and Marigold hurry out to go celebrate.
I take my time packing up, letting most everyone else leave before I cross the aisle to Marigold’s desk and set my copy of Julius Caesar on top of it.
Then, I take one of her lavender sticky notes and write one of the more memorable quotes from the play.
I hope she will see my meaning behind choosing it.
If the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that we often see what we want to see.
I can only hope that in my words, Marigold sees the beginnings of an apology.
“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”