Chapter 25 He Cares About Me, Right?
He Cares About Me, Right?
Maisie
The next week drags on agonizingly slowly.
Connor is definitely avoiding me, and I don’t know why.
Fine, he had a date, but how does that equate to us not doing our normal friend things?
How can he be helping me through a panic attack one minute, and the next not wanting to make any plans?
Oh gosh, does he not want to have to take care of me after everything he saw?
No, he wouldn’t be like that. He cares about me. Right?
My chest tightens. I thought Karsen cared about me, but that was clearly not quite the case. What if Connor’s care fizzles out, too?
I shake my head; that’s a ridiculous thought.
I want to know how his first therapy session went. I don’t want to know how his date went. It was probably with Veronica. Just remembering the way his face lit up when they spoke at practice the other day makes my stomach twist.
He and I are friends—and I guess that’s all we’ll ever be—but if we’re friends, then why isn’t he texting me back?
Ugh. I practically throw my phone into my bag and huff out an exasperated sigh.
“Everything okay over there?” Lola asks. She’s a few lockers down from me as we get ready for practice.
“Fine. Well, not fine, but fine. Ya know?”
“No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked.” Her lips curl into an amused smile.
“A friend of mine isn’t talking to me at the moment, and I don’t know what I did. It’s frustrating.” I shut my locker gently, the conversation pulling me out of my immediate anger.
“Have you tried apologizing? Sometimes we hurt people unintentionally.”
She sounds like she’s talking from experience. Doing the unintentional hurting or being on the receiving end—I can’t quite tell.
“How can I apologize when he won’t even talk to me?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She drums her fingers on her chin. “Do you know his schedule? Maybe stop by someplace you know he’ll be. Then you can say your piece, and he can choose what he does from there.”
“Wow. That’s really wise, Lola.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” She laughs.
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t know you that well. I’d like to change that if you’re game, though. Wanna grab dinner together after practice?”
Her eyes widen in surprise, but she smiles tentatively. “Sure, sounds good, thanks.”
We finish getting ready and head out onto the pool deck.
The others are already out there, stretching and doing other forms of warm-ups.
I smile. Things might be shit between Connor and me right now, but at least I’m branching out and making friends with my teammates. That’s a step in the right direction.
As practice progresses, however, I don’t attempt my back three and a half.
At the practice after my failed dive last weekend, Coach and I agreed we’d cut it for now and see if I can work up to it.
I called my dad after, and he was happy to hear I took his advice.
Well, happy might be a stretch. More like he was pleased I had listened to him—but I could also hear the disappointment he tried to hide in his voice.
I know he wants what’s best for me; he’s always pushed me to be the best I can be.
But sometimes, I twirl around the idea of telling him his words have the power to crush me.
That they can do more damage than good, and my confidence cracks when he speaks his mind.
But I’m scared I’ll sound ungrateful. I make a mental note to talk to Lauren about it and focus my mind back on practice.
We have an away meet tomorrow. Luckily, it is only an hour’s drive away, so no overnight stays.
Not like it would be that different if we did spend the night—Angie and I would still room together like we do at home—but there is nothing like sleeping in your own bed.
Plus, it feels wrong to leave when Connor isn’t coming with us.
My mind wanders back to him and the psychologist. Did Dr. Fitz convince the dean to remove the suspension by two meets?
I need to get a grip. This will all work out.
Connor typically works at the coffee shop on Sunday mornings.
I’ll go visit toward the end of his shift.
We’ll talk; everything will be fine. Plus, we had been talking about going as Ant-Man and the Wasp for Halloween next week.
He wouldn’t cancel our plans just because he went out with someone once, would he?
My stomach drops, and my hands feel clammy. Maybe he would.
I try to focus back on practice, but the confidence I started out with has faded. My entries are splashing, my pike is weak, and I don’t feel great about competing tomorrow. Tension starts to pull at my temples, and I have to excuse myself to the locker room for some breathing exercises.
Lola finds me lying on a bench in the middle of the locker room. Practice has apparently ended. “I told Coach you weren’t feeling well. I wasn’t sure what was going on.” She stands a healthy distance away from me, like my failure might be contagious.
“Headache,” I say by way of explanation.
“Oh, well, we can reschedule dinner if you want…” She trails off, sounding disappointed.
“Might be for the best tonight. I’m sorry. Rain check?”
“For sure,” she says softly and moves toward the shower area around the corner before I can say anything more.
I let out a defeated sigh, but I peel myself off the bench, change, and head for home. At least there, I can wallow with some ice cream.