Chapter Five #2
Ashton stopped her movements and met Razor’s gaze.
There appeared to be an unspoken question in Ashton’s eyes.
About what? Their friendship status? She considered Ashton a friend, even after all these years.
Even if they weren’t close when they played together, they were on the same team, and in Razor’s eyes, that made Ashton a friend for life—one of the few left from that time.
Ashton’s cheeks tinged red as she resumed her task without a word.
Maybe it was something more than her friend comment.
“Well…you were already late,” Ashton stammered. “And knowing Professor White, there wasn’t a moment to waste. She’s always a stickler for punctuality.”
Razor picked up another length of PVC pipe and attached it at the joint.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I was her student and her TA last semester. No room for error or tardiness.”
Razor stopped and turned. “Wait, I thought you were a professor.”
Ashton shook her head. “I’m in the PhD program for sport psychology. I have to teach a few classes, but I also take classes as part of my degree.”
“Oh,” Razor said. There wasn’t much more to add, except, “Well, I’m guessing your time with Professor White wasn’t in vain.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She looked very skeptical of your explanation, but she let me in anyway. Which means she probably thinks very highly of you and trusts your judgment.”
Ashton smiled shyly and picked up the netting, extending one end to Razor. “That would be wonderful, since she’s part of my doctoral committee.”
Razor tugged on the piece she was given, not allowing Ashton to turn away. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. Professor White respects your judgment and your ideas. Believe me.”
Ashton bit her lip and nodded slowly before whispering, “I do.”
Razor felt that charge again, the electricity shooting across the netting—interesting because nylon didn’t conduct electricity—and slowly let go to allow Ashton to return to her task of feeding the fabric onto the other end of the pipe.
As Razor tied a loop around her end, she sneaked glances at Ashton concentrating on her task.
Razor hated seeing doubt on that beautiful face and hoped she’d instilled a little bit of confidence into Ashton’s idea of herself and the prestige she could achieve as a sport psychologist. She wanted to help Ashton embrace all the opportunities she had out in front of her.
And as a reward, Razor hoped she’d be able to witness some of them.
Futuristic musings sidelined, Razor ran her hand down the pipe, now encased in nylon, smoothing out the wrinkles, and slowed when she reached Ashton’s end.
“So, can I ask why you were really late?” Ashton asked.
Razor sighed. “An emergency popped up at Slugfest.”
“What? All the machines break down?”
Razor chuckled. She appreciated the humor…somewhat.
“Unfortunately, no. That would be easy to handle and not necessary for me to be there. A company I’d hired to haul away a bunch of scrap didn’t show up, so I spent all morning finding out what happened and rescheduling.”
“You don’t take classes in the morning?”
Razor shook her head. “If I was the typical student-athlete, sure, but I just can’t give that kind of time to school with a business to run. I picked afternoon classes so I can be here for practice and games and not run back and forth to Walnut Ridge multiple times a day.”
“Sounds exhausting. Running a business, taking courses, playing.”
Razor’s nod was emphatic. “It is. Do me a favor, check in with me in a couple of weeks to make sure I’m still alive.”
Ashton snorted. “I’ll check in with you if you check in with me.”
“Why do you need checking in?”
Ashton sighed in turn, sounding more depressed than Razor. “I’m worried about the classes I’m teaching. They’re not hard, but I’m worried I’ll get overwhelmed with everything else I’m doing, and the students will suffer.”
Razor laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “First off, I don’t think you could be a bad teacher. You like coaching, which is a form of teaching.”
“I guess so.” Ashton didn’t look convinced.
“Then maybe we should do it.”
“Do what?”
“Check in with each other. It’s obvious we’re both under immense pressure.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ashton mumbled.
“So, let’s support each other. Not in the sense of having weekly meetings but lean on each other when the stress gets too much.”
Ashton bit her lip. Razor’s pulse kicked up and a warm sensation spread farther south.
“It would be good to have someone I can go to about certain things,” Ashton admitted.
“About anything, Ashton,” Razor emphasized. “You can talk to me about anything. I can either give advice or just listen. No matter what, I’ll always be in your corner.”
Razor hoped Ashton saw past the cheesiness of the statement and through to the sincerity. When Ashton smiled shyly and tucked an invisible strand behind her ear, Razor knew she got the message.
“And I’ll be in yours,” Ashton replied.
They stared at each other, Ashton’s goofy smile matching the one Razor suspected she wore dancing on their lips, before looking around at what was left to do. Unfortunately, there was a lot.
“We better get a move on,” Ashton exclaimed. “Practice begins in an hour.”
Razor picked up the discarded pipe and solidified Ashton’s position in her life.
“So, we’re doing this? We’ll be each other’s safe haven?”
Ashton nodded and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”
* * *
Ashton mirrored Razor’s stance as they stared at the completed structure. Arms folded, heads cocked, they scrutinized it from every angle.
“Well?” Razor asked.
Ashton pointed toward the top left corner at a prominent hole. “Looks like part of the fabric slipped down.”
“I got it.”
Razor jumped into action and tugged the netting back into place. Ashton stood back and supervised, Razor’s long arms and torso more suited to handle the task. What Ashton didn’t expect was to see Razor’s shirt ride up and expose a defined core.
“Is it fixed?” Razor’s voice was distant, reverberant, as Ashton focused solely on her abs. The muscles twitched and rippled with Razor’s exertion.
“Ashton!”
The shout broke her out of her reverie, and Ashton realized it wasn’t Razor who’d called to her. She turned and saw Nancy walking toward them, struggling with an armload of bats. Ashton turned back to Razor and said, “The hole is gone. Good job.”
She gave a thumbs-up—dork—then turned back to Nancy.
“I thought you had an errand to run?”
Was she talking fast? She sounded fast.
“I ran it,” Nancy said and dropped the bats by the newly assembled cage. “Looks like I missed all the fun.”
“Actually, we were just about to test it out,” Ashton said. “Wanna do the honors?”
“Oh no,” Nancy replied. “I think the one who actually did the job should have the first go at it.”
Nancy picked up a bat and held it out to Razor.
“I’d be happy to,” Razor said.
They maneuvered sandbag anchors to the appropriate positions and got the tee stand to the right height. Relief flooded Ashton as she watched Nancy and Razor worked fluidly to get everything right. Maybe Nancy was right, and they would be able to work together and move past their history.
All anchor points secured, Razor pushed through the opening of the net and placed a ball on the stand. “You want me to hit normal?”