Chapter Eleven Keely #2
“Ooh. Can you show me? I’ve always wondered what material they used to make him gleam like that. I’m Zoey, by the way. And my friend with the small bladder is Keely.”
“I’m Nolan. And I would, but I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.”
“Pleaaase,” Zoey pleaded. “I graduate in a few months. This might be my only chance to see Abe up close! I’ll be quick, I promise.”
A deep sigh. “I guess while we’re waiting, I can show you. You can’t touch it, though.”
“Oh, pinky swear, Nolan. Hands to myself.”
Footsteps echoed and then faded as they went farther into the locker room.
Once Keely was sure they were out of sight, she let out the breath that had been beating inside her eyelids and quietly unlatched the stall door. She threw Max’s uniform back in his locker and went to wash her hands so her alibi would hold up when Zoey and Nolan came back.
Neither the guilt nor the blue dye came off.
· · · · ·
Keely woke up the next morning well before the sun. Even on weekends, she couldn’t sleep in. Her mind wouldn’t let her, not with her to-do list a mile long.
Today, for example, she needed to squeeze in a few hours of Inorganic Chemistry equations before heading into town to grocery shop for Matilda.
She also needed to check her favorite research database for new articles on vitamin and caffeine interactions.
The ones she really needed didn’t exist—because she was supposed to be writing them.
She sighed until she ran out of air, then pulled herself out of bed.
Their apartment was nothing special—the furniture was cheap and the carpet was so thin it was practically nonexistent, but it got the job done. If nothing else, it was somewhere to plug in her coffee pot.
She still hadn’t switched to decaf.
Three hours later, after an abstract-induced eye twitch, a shower, and a change of clothes, Keely headed for the grocery to pick up Matilda’s standing order.
Matilda Hargrove was ninety-seven years old and lived on the first floor of an assisted living community. She had four children, fourteen grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren so far.
Even now, a few weeks in, Keely still wasn’t sure whether the woman liked her.
Which Keely, decidedly, did not like.
“I called in the refills of your medications last week, so we’ll get that sorted while I’m here,” Keely called, unloading the bags onto Matilda’s wrought-iron, glass-topped kitchen table.
“But I still don’t like you on the hydrochlorothiazide.
I think it’s why you’re having so much acid reflux.
And I’d like to get you on a better multivitamin. I did some research.”
Matilda grunted from her spot in the living room. “The one I’m on is fine.”
Keely hadn’t seen her out of her recliner aside from the first day, where she had to answer the door in order to give Keely a spare key.
She wouldn’t be sure Matilda ate the food Keely bought if she hadn’t seen the remnants in the garbage can.
She made a mental note to take out the trash when she left.
“Not all vitamins are created equal.” Keely pulled out the items Matilda had requested—saltines, mostly, plus Earl Grey tea, a few ill-advised freezer meals, and apples. Each week so far, Matilda had requested exactly three of the latter.
But there were still three apples in the bowl from last week. She grabbed two, testing their softness, then went to show Matilda. “You didn’t eat these.”
“They’re hard to eat,” she mumbled. “With the dentures.”
Keely worked to tamp down her smile. She could fix this. “Oh, no problem. I’ll cut them for you and pop them in the fridge.”
Matilda frowned. “They’ll go brown in an hour.”
“Nothing a little lemon juice won’t fix.” Keely went back to the kitchen and rooted in the cabinets for a cutting board. “I think you have a bottle in the fridge. Fresh is better though, so next week I’ll grab a lemon, too. With my own money, of course. The citric acid helps prevent oxidation.”
“You sound like a textbook,” Matilda grumbled under her breath.
Keely poked her head around the corner. “What was that?”
Matilda grunted again.
“Back to the vitamins,” Keely mused as she chopped the apples, a content smile rounding her cheeks. “You should really take something with extra vitamin D, and collagen wouldn’t be bad either.”
Matilda groaned. She must have wanted Keely to hear her.
Groceries put away, apples sliced, medications sorted, Keely locked Matilda’s door on her way out.
She yawned. That eye twitch from earlier wasn’t getting better, but one more cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt. Especially if she was going to be in the library all afternoon, marking up research article after research article.
She’d no sooner sat down, fresh chai from the Q at her side, than her phone buzzed with an incoming call.
“Hey,” Zoey said. “What are you doing right now?”
“About to study. I’m over on the third—”
“Come to the stadium.”
Keely uncapped a pen (purple, for taking notes). “I have to study.”
“Don’t you want to see your handiwork in action?” Zoey’s tone was more than suggestive, and Keely could picture the way her eyebrows bounced.
Max’s outfit would be ill-fitting regardless of whether she was there to see it, and she didn’t have time. “I don’t kn—”
“Please?” Zoey said. “Pretty pretty please, with enzymes on top?”
Keely looked over her study plan wistfully.
All she wanted was five minutes. Five minutes for her thoughts to slow down, for her chest to be able to fully expel one of the thousands of breaths she took each day.
But the thought of Max’s strong-angled face framed with embarrassment made that breath come a little easier. The uniform would probably be way too unflattering for him to step foot in public. And the idea that he’d be too embarrassed to compete at all. . .
That, she had to see.
“I’m bringing my study stuff,” Keely warned, sliding her still-sticky laptop closed again.