Chapter Twenty-Five Keely
Chapter Twenty-Five
Keely
Keely wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. She was a scientist, after all. When she had a hypothesis, she investigated. Gathered data points and waited to see if the pattern indicated she was correct. If there was a pattern at all.
Which was how she knew almost certainly: Zoey was avoiding her.
They were ships in the night; Keely hadn’t physically seen her roommate since before spring break.
But she’d heard her moving around behind her closed bedroom door. That was the first red flag. They never shut their doors to each other. Keely had caught Zoey with her hand down her pants—literally—on more than one occasion because of it.
Every time Keely knocked now, Zoey either didn’t answer or made an excuse to keep it shut. Sunday after the shelter, it was a headache.
Yesterday morning, Zoey had ducked out before Keely woke and was gone for most of the day, leaving Keely alone with her swirling thoughts. Which was a shame, because Keely really needed to unpack the budding weirdness with Max.
And last night, it was because Zoey had had someone over. (An outlier from her collected data set because it proved true; Keely had had to put in earplugs before bed.)
She’d tried texting Zoey directly. When that didn’t work, she’d asked around their friend group, but none of them had answers, either.
By Wednesday evening, Keely had accepted her fate. Zoey would talk when she was ready.
Keely filled in her to-do list, with not nearly enough crossed off for the late hour. The library was all but empty. She kept having to wave her arm to reactivate the motion sensors in the lights.
Call Matilda to check in (prescriptions ok?)
Research and order kids’ science books
Meet with Dr. Goff– Rescheduled until I read Max’s essay
Read Max’s essay and take notes
Class work
Thesis work
Make finals study plan
Finalize to-do list for WIS auction
Nope. Worry about Zoey wasn’t on there. She was a little mad at herself. If she’d managed to cross off Read Max’s essay today, instead of carrying it over for the nth time in a row, she’d have room on the list instead of in the margins.
“I love you,” a familiar voice said.
She snapped her head up so fast her neck twinged. “Excuse me?” She was burning up. No one had ever said that to her before. Least of all—
Max held up his paper, like that explained everything. “I got an A minus on the assignment. A minus, Keely!” He shook the paper, then smacked it on the desk near her laptop.
She blew out a breath, heart thundering. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t do that.” He stared at her, his eyes almost as hard as his jaw.
“Do what?” She was struggling with everything today, especially following Max’s line of thinking.
He shook his head, wetting his lips as redness crawled up and over his jaw. “Sell yourself short. Diminish your contributions. You’re a really good teacher, and I wouldn’t have done this well without you. There’s nothing wrong with admitting it, Keely.”
Affection bloomed in her chest, and though she’d have to shut it down in a few seconds, she relished the warmth now. She bit her lip to slow the spread of her smile. It pulled free anyway. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”
He slid into the seat beside her because, apparently, this was something they did now. Studied together. Like friends. Like. . . something else.
“Things at home?” he asked.
“Not just that,” she said. “Although I don’t really have a home anymore, I guess. The house sale was finalized. Another family moved in this weekend.” Hopefully the next generation of kids who grew up there would hear laughter more than anger.
“Well, that’d be enough to bum anyone out, but it sounds like there’s something else. So what’s the most wrong right now?”
He looked so sincere, filling the space in her periphery, ready to listen to whatever she could possibly say.
Which was a problem. Confessing everything on her mind wasn’t on her to-do list, either. If she started, she didn’t know if she’d stop.
She was beginning to suspect that sentiment applied to a lot of things when it came to Max Simmons.
He shifted in his seat, his foot tapping hers under the table. She moved away, but he chased her, the toe of his shoe brushing her ankle. “Key.”
The single syllable scratched across her nerves, leaving them raw and exposed. She was bare wiring when he looked at her this way. Said her name this way.
“That day in the locker room,” she said, swiveling in her chair to face him. “The day we almost. . .”
He flashed a grin before smoothing out his features. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She gritted her teeth. This was hard enough as it was. Did he have to make it worse by being so smug?
“I was desperate to read your essay,” she admitted. His head tilted, and she took it as an invitation to continue. “So desperate I broke into your locker room. Into your actual locker. And you sent it to me a week ago, and I. . .”
“You still haven’t read it?” Max laughed, then rubbed a hand over his mouth when she gave him a dirty look he correctly interpreted as you’re being so loud right now. His voice dropped to a low rumble, one she felt in her chest. “God, Keely, then what was the point of everything?”
She picked at dried banana on her keyboard.
The truth was, she didn’t want to know how good it was. How much better and more equipped he was for this. She’d have to face how bad hers was in turn, and she wasn’t ready to give up on her dreams just yet.
“For real.” He leaned into her personal space and tapped her screen.
She tried not to breathe him in, but he was everywhere.
He must have showered recently, because spicy sweetness swirled around her.
“Pull it up. Or I can read it out loud, if you’d prefer.
I don’t have any fancy voices like you use with the kids, but—”
She pushed his hand away, and he chuckled as he sat back and crossed his arms.
Her hand hovered over her trackpad, but it still took one more encouraging nod from him to open the document.
Twenty minutes later, she sighed. “That settles it,” she said, resting her forehead on the table in front of her computer. “I’m doomed. I’ll drop out now.”
He placed his phone screen-side down on the table. “You. . . liked it?”
Liked it?
She was obsessed with it.
Every single word in Max’s essay bled running. He talked about growing up with his dad, their family’s commitment to fun and fitness. How when his dad got sick, Max had grabbed the baton and picked up where his father had left off.
Keely didn’t know if she’d ever been that passionate about anything, not even her first toy microscope set.
Despite the fear that she was absolutely screwed when it came to this scholarship, she was almost. . . happy for Max, if this was how he really felt.
“I want to go for a run now,” she said honestly. “And I don’t do that.”
Max grinned. “Let’s go, then.” He stood up and shouldered his bag.
Her brain processed his words slower than normal. His essay was just that good. “Go where?”
“For a run,” he said, closing her laptop, and his smile widened. “I’ll give you a firsthand account of exactly how passionate I can be.”
“Max,” she said through a laugh, because it was that or sputter incoherently. “I’m wearing jeans.”
“I have extra clothes you can borrow.” He lifted the shoulder his backpack was dangling from.
That was a horrible idea, and she told him so. “I’m a foot shorter than you, with a lot less. . .” Don’t say muscles. Don’t think about his muscles. “Your clothes will be too big,” she supplied weakly. “And it’s after ten at night.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“I meant I’m tired.”
He fought another smile. “You’re coming up with excuses.”
A little. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not right now.
I have too much left to do, anyway.” Like figure out how to run in front of Max Simmons without embarrassing herself.
She’d taught herself advanced differentials in the summer between freshman and sophomore year. She could surely learn how to jog.
Or speed walk.
Max sighed. “Tomorrow morning, then. At eight? I’ll meet you at the track.”
She dragged her teeth with her lip, and his gaze dropped there. Darkened.
“Tomorrow morning,” she confirmed, wondering where her ability to breathe had wandered off to.
It was a horrible idea.
So why was she so excited?
Keely
What do you wear for something that might be a date but probably isn’t but you want to be cute just in case? Exercise will be involved.
Zoey
. . .
Zoey
Date with whom?
Keely
So you’re NOT dead!
Keely
I’m meeting Max at the track.
He’s going to show me passion
Keely
PASSION FOR RUNNING
Keely
*Forrest Gump Running gif*
Zoey
. . .
Zoey:
Keely
Zo?
Of all the things Keely had ever volunteered to do at eight in the morning, this may have been the stupidest. She didn’t necessarily hate exercise.
She valued it for the natural endorphins, the effects on the immune system and overall health to a person.
She just preferred when it fit naturally into her day.
Rushing between classes, sprinting up the stairs of Davidson, carrying her laundry to the basement and back up again.
Instead, she was here, in the sliver of time between her pre-class study block and Histology, walking onto the track and tugging up her socks like it was any other Wednesday.
Morning practice must have just let out, because athletes walked the other way, duffels and backpacks slung over their shoulders.
Max sat at the edge of the track, backlit by the sun. It highlighted the long lines of his legs. His shorts had ridden up his thighs.
Maybe running wasn’t so bad.
She plopped down next to him.
He stretched out his legs, encroaching on her personal bubble. “Good morning, Keely.”
“Don’t sound so excited. This is basically going to be torture for me.”