Chapter 11
Eleven
Blair
“What do you mean there’s a mob outside the studio?” I ask Tiffany. I’m trying to get situated in my office, waiting for the familiarity and comfort to wash over me, but that’s impossible when you’ve been putting out fires for the last two days.
Then there’s the paparazzi encounters—more negative than previous. It’s uncomfortable for our members, and my staff, to be bombarded by camera flashes while you’re trying to get to and from a workout.
I’m thankful for everyone’s grace and understanding.
Staff, gym members, the police officer who I called when I was nervous about someone with a camera lurking by our staff entrance.
Meanwhile, it feels like my body is in a vice, the air around me too heavy to even take a deep breath.
This is my fault—it’s me they’re trying to see or maybe someone famous coming to work out—and that means I’ve tried taking on more than usual.
Which is quite the choice, considering I’ve never had less time.
It’s like something horrible is about to happen—I can feel the tide about to shift. There’s nothing like waiting for the wave that’s going to demolish everything in its path. And this place, which is so much of me, means everything.
Tiffany shifts her weight in the doorway, “Exactly what it sounds like. There’s a line of people who are trying to come in. Some have gym bags, like they want to drop in, and some are saying they just want to buy merch.”
“Are any of them members?”
“I don’t think so. The members are coming in and using their cards to unlock the front. Security hasn’t had any issues.”
The entry system is new. It was necessary when we got the influx of new signups and it’s honestly a great way to make sure the gym doesn’t have too many people at once—I don’t need any issues with the fire marshal.
This was an upgrade I was looking to make in the next two years but didn’t have the funds to complete it.
Now, my original plan didn’t include a security guard, but it was recommended with the increase in traffic and popularity.
“Let’s make sure that security is doing okay and have them make an announcement.”
“What’s the announcement?” Tiffany asks when I don’t immediately offer it up.
Rubbing my temples with my hands, I go into problem solving mode.
Honestly, it’s where it feels like I’ve been living lately.
My brain gets all murky; one second it’s fixated on how I wish I looked different in a football uniform, then it’s on the calls and texts I’m behind on, before it jumps to something else.
The last few days there have been some honorable mentions—the missed field goal and the almost kiss with Tyson. It’s like I don’t have enough time or mental energy to think through these things. So, I get a third of the way in, trying to sort it out, and then we’re on to the next.
The field goal was supposed to be no pressure—give me a challenge—but since I missed it, there’s been this pit in my stomach that refuses to close.
It’s like I’m teetering on the edge and about to fall in at any moment.
Coach clapped me on the shoulder and my teammates told me good job.
They called out the positives: you had the leg, you were so close, you’ll make it next time.
Being able to kick a field goal is key to every team’s game plan.
The Cosmos are at a disadvantage with someone who can only come in for extra points—and even then, it’s still kind of a question mark.
I haven’t missed yet, but I have only had a few opportunities.
Everyone said it was fine that I missed the attempt, and people even cheered on my miss, but it was like a punch to the gut.
“Blair?” Tiffany interrupts my thoughts.
“Sorry. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Give everyone a business card, have them sign up for the newsletter, and we’ll make changes to our schedule in the next few weeks. We’ll add a designated time to shop for merch plus an additional drop in time for non-members.”
“Wait. That’s brilliant,” She lifts her hands and rests them on her cheeks. “Should we get merch?”
I laugh because she’s right. The only things we have are a logo T-shirt, stickers, and a water bottle. Again, this is something I wanted to expand on when I had the time and funds. Guess there’s no time like the present. “Yes. I’ll work on it.”
Another item to add to the never-ending to-do list.
“Anything I can help you with?” Tiffany asks.
“I’m sure but I don’t even know where to start right now. Let’s go take care of the mob and we’ll go from there. Okay?”
My phone buzzes on my desk.
Tyson
want to do takeout tonight?
can give you the rundown on the away game schedule
I flip the phone over, as if Tyson can see me through the screen. He’s another thing my brain has been running through, ever since the Halloween party. Ever since we almost kissed.
The way he looked at me… This time, there was no second guessing.
His blue eyes were like waters I could happily drown in.
And the disappointment that crashed into me when we were interrupted.
The balcony felt like a movie, all of the almosts coming to a tipping point, and I was eager to see what was coming next.
Instead, Zack’s thoughtfulness and remembering my love for coffee was like someone turning the lights on in the theater just as the big reveal was to hit the screen.
Me
as long as you’re cool with a late dinner
I’m here until 8:30 tonight
see you then
The nerves dance to the top of my skin, flushing it pink—I can feel the warmth and start to fan myself with a promotional postcard on my desk.
I force a slow breath and try to shut out the noise beyond my office walls.
My heart is sprinting, not from fear but…
anticipation? Hope? It’s wild to think that all this time I convinced myself what I felt for Tyson was ridiculous.
Safe to ignore when he was a few states away, tucked neatly into the part of my life labeled off-limits.
But now he’s here. And he’s looking at me like I’m not just in the background anymore. Like he sees me.
And when he leaned in—God, I swear he was going to kiss me. Not a friendly, ‘whoops, we were too close’ kiss. A real one. The kind you feel everywhere. The kind you don’t imagine unless the other person wants it, too.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one holding on to something invisible between us. Maybe that shift I kept secretly waiting for… wasn’t wishful thinking after all. Maybe it’s been there, quietly building, long before tonight.
I think back to one night in the library our junior year, when it was just the two of us utilizing those late night hours offered at the end of a term.
The whole campus seemed to be breathing in its sleep, the air thick with the smell of old books and the coffee left to cool beside my notebook.
It started out as a group of us, but as everyone left, one by one, Tyson stayed.
He should be in bed, resting for morning practice, yet here he was, slouched across from me, head buried in a book for a class I knew he had an A in.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and every turn of a page seems to echoes.
My eyes burned from reading, matching the ache in my shoulders, and when a chill crept in from the window, I shivered.
Tyson’s eyes flicked up from the textbook and without a word, he slid his hoodie across the table, its fabric warm and faintly scented like him.
Our fingers brushed as I took it—his touch lingered just a second too long, the kind of second that makes the world hold its breath.
Right then, the way he looked at me isn’t casual. It wasn’t friendly. It was heavy, like gravity itself had shifted between us. His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching, and for a heartbeat I could feel the air swirling around us, like something inevitable was about to break open.
I could almost hear the soft scrape of his chair, imagined him leaning across the table, his breath mingling with mine.
My pulse drummed in my ears, and I felt ready—ready to close the distance, to find out what that look meant.
But then he blinked, the tension breaking like a wave on the shore.
He smiled that small, disarming smile of his—the one that always made it hard to be angry at him—and looked back down at his open book.
The moment passed quietly, like the whisper of a page turning.
No kiss. No confession. Just the ghost of what could have been lingering in the air between us in an empty library.
And that’s the thing—Tyson has always been that guy. Thoughtful, steady, someone who makes everyone feel seen. I told myself I wasn’t special. That I imagined it.
But now, when I think back to that night, I can’t ignore the truth that maybe he pulled back because he was scared, too. Maybe he felt it and didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe we’ve been running from the same thing–afraid to cross the line.
I always thought I wasn’t what he wanted… the type of woman he’d see himself with. Just one of the guys and nothing more.
But at the party? The way he looked at me—like he was finally ready to close that space between us—it was like he was about to meet me halfway.
And suddenly, I’m done pretending there’s nothing there. The grin painting my lips tells me everything I need to know about my plan for tonight. Sometimes, you have to put yourself out there to get the answers you need.
The digital clock blinks at me: 8:36 pm. I’ve been here since 7 AM and there’s still work I could do, but there’s somewhere else I have to be. My stomach flips at the realization—I’d rather be with Tyson than be here.
Now that’s really saying something.
Embers and Ashes is my everything—my proudest accomplishment—and the place I feel most myself. It’s an odd occurrence if I’m not here for at least a few hours each day… even If I’m not teaching a class or scheduled to work. It’s hard to pull myself away, quit knocking things off the to-do list.
But tonight? It’s Tyson.
I’m walking out the door, security making sure I safely get to my car, when my phone buzzes. When I’m in my car and the doors are locked, I pull out my phone. There’s a missed call from a number I don’t know. Probably spam.
Before I can text Ty, letting him know I’m on my way, the number comes through again. I don’t know what it is but something tells me to answer it.
“Hello?” I wait for the expected awkward silence and click of a telemarketer.
Instead, I’m met with a voice I didn’t expect. But even after all these years I’d know it in my bones.
“Hey, little bee.”
My dad.