Chapter 33
TALLY
“Ican’t wait to be outside,” I say to Cammie as I push through the doors of the lecture theater, following the hoard of students toward the exit.
It’s been a week and a half since Flip flew me out to the game, and three days since the gala.
I’d like to say things have calmed down, but that would be a lie.
I’m working hard to block out the whispers from a group of girls as we pass.
“…Flip Madden’s girlfriend…”
“…have you seen the pictures…”
“…do you think Romero…”
“Rumors are the gateway to stupidity and opinionless drones,” Cammie shouts cheerfully before turning to me. “I vote we find a patch of sun and hang out like lazy cats.”
“As long as that patch of sun does not include people churning the gossip mill, I’m game.”
Hemi had hoped my appearance at the special needs hockey gala on Friday would replace some of the nonsense, but it went completely under the radar. Probably because it had nothing to do with Flip Madden’s sex life.
I pull out my phone and send Fee a message that we’re on our way.
She replies with a selfie at one of the outdoor tables at the campus café.
We’re having a warm early-March blip. The temperature is in the mid-teens, which means guys are wearing shorts and T-shirts, and half the girls on campus are in tanks despite there still being snow on the ground. March is a weird month in Ontario.
I show Cammie my phone. “Looks like Fee’s already on it.”
I tip my face up as we leave the building, welcoming the warmth of the sun on my skin. But my joy is short-lived.
“There she is!” someone shouts.
“What the hell is going on?” a guy to my right asks.
Suddenly Cammie and I are surrounded, microphones shoved in our faces, cameras clicking incessantly.
“The fuck?” I grab for Cammie’s hand, panic taking over.
“Tallulah! Tallulah! Is it true you’ve been secretly dating Flip Madden for years?”
“Tallulah! Are your parents separated because of your relationship with one of the Terror players?”
“Is it true that Flip has been pursuing you since you were in high school?”
“Are you and Flip Madden also involved with Quinn Romero?”
Cammie steps in front of me, acting as a human shield.
It would be more effective if she wasn’t a head shorter.
She points at each of the reporters. “No, no, no, and maybe leave Quinn Romero out of your weird, incessant obsession with Flip Madden’s sex life.
” She takes a step back, forcing me to do the same.
“Are you also involved with Flip and Tallulah?” a reporter asks her.
“Gandalf on a cracker.” I can practically hear Cammie rolling her eyes. “No, you creepy weirdo. I have my own hockey player.”
Mob mentality setting in like a bad psychology experiment as people pull their phones out and start recording.
“Go back inside,” Cammie orders as the reporters shout more questions.
I spin around and push back through the sea of bodies. People close in on me and real terror takes hold. What if I get trampled? What if I can’t reach safety?
“You’re okay. I’m right behind you!” Cammie shouts. “Get out of the way! Emergency!”
We push through the doors, back into the building. Cammie slips in front of me—the perks of being pocket-sized—and grabs my hand. She pulls me down the hall and ducks into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms locking the door behind us.
I slide down the wall and tuck my head between my knees. My head is spinning, and I can’t catch my breath.
“Hey, hey. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay, Tally.” Cammie’s hands settle on my knees. “You’re having a panic attack. Just breathe, okay?”
I burst into tears, sucking in lungfuls of air between sobs, the adrenaline rocketing through me. Cammie sounds far away. A phone rings. I can’t take a full breath.
“She’s here with me. We’re in a bathroom. She’s safe. She can’t right now. Yeah, that’s her. No. No. That’s a really fucking bad idea. You cannot come here. I’ll share her location. I have a plan. I’ll get her off campus so you can come to her. I’m hanging up now so I can help her through this.”
Hands settle on my knees again. “Tallulah, I need you to look at me.”
“I can’t breathe,” I hiccup and sob again.
“Can you drink this?” Cammie holds out a bottle of water.
I shake my head.
“I’m really sorry for what I’m about to do.”
Cold water splashes my face.
I suck in a breath. “What the fuck?”
She blots my cheeks with paper towels. “I’m sorry. I needed to snap you out of it. You were in a spiral,” she explains. “I love you and promise that was less than ten percent backwash.”
I laugh and then start crying again.
“It’s okay.” She hugs me. “I’m going to call Chase, okay? We’re going to get you out of here and off campus.”
“How? The media are everywhere.”
“You let me handle it.” She calls Chase and puts him on speakerphone. “Hey, babe, are you at the apartment?”
“Sure am. You coming home soon? You want to try that new po—”
She cuts him off. “You’re on speakerphone.”
“Okay. Cool. What’s up?”
“The media mobbed us as soon as we left class.”
“They’re following Tally again?”
It happened outside the apartment on my way home from rehearsal yesterday, but there were only a couple, and they couldn’t follow me into the building.
“Yeah. Someone figured out her schedule.”
“This is borderline psychotic. I’m on the way over to the arts building,” Chase says. “I’ll meet you at the back entrance, closest to Prince Street. Brody’s place is only a ten-minute walk from there. I’ll escort you.”
I wring my hands. “What if there are more reporters at the back entrance? What if they see us on the way to Brody’s?”
“There’s a hidden path, so we can stay off the sidewalks. I’ll message when I get there, stay in the bathroom until then.” Chase hangs up.
Cammie and I stare at each other.
“I didn’t think it would be like this.” What if his teammates turn on him? What if my dad freaks out, too? “I don’t want Flip to end up traded over me.”
“Your dad wouldn’t jeopardize the team like that.”
“They are his favorite child.” I wish I was joking.
“I’m sorry.” Cammie hugs me. “Let’s get you out of here, then we can deal with whatever we need to.”
Cammie and I trade hoodies and I try not to dive back into the panic spiral while she messages with Chase. When we get the all clear, I tuck my hair into her Tilton baseball cap and we slip into the stairwell and descend, popping out at the back of the building.
Chase is the only person there. “You two okay?” he pants and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
“Slightly traumatized and highly annoyed that we can’t soak up some vitamin D in the quad, but fine otherwise,” Cammie assures him.
“How did you know about this exit?” I stay pressed against the wall, still anxious that we’ll be bombarded again.
“Sometimes Brody uses it to avoid the fangirls who have a class after him,” Cammie explains.
“Poor guy.”
“It’s hard to have a famous brother and be following in his footsteps,” Chase says. “I let Brodes know we’re coming. He said to stick to the path.”
“Okay.” I nod, my throat tight as anxiety takes hold again.
“I’ll go first, and, Cammie, you fall in behind Tally, so she’s guarded, yeah?”
“You got it, babe.” She tips her chin up and puckers her lips.
He dips down to kiss her.
Cammie has a black belt in karate, and Chase is a six-four hockey player, so despite my trepidation, we should be safe.
Chase leads us to a trail that runs parallel to the street, through the park behind a few off-campus subdivisions.
“Are there already videos online?” I ask as we speed walk down the path. “I should probably call Phillip. He might worry.”
“He’s on his way to Brody’s,” Chase calls over his shoulder.
“How does he know to go there?”
“I had Brody call him.” Cammie squeezes my hand. “He called while we were in the bathroom.”
“Oh my God.” It starts to come together. “He called while I was having a panic attack.” What if he thinks I can’t handle this? What if he breaks up with me?
“He wanted to come get you, but we thought this would be better. He’s worried about you. We all are. The fucking media need a new hobby.”
Seven minutes later, Brody lets us into his backyard through a gate I didn’t even know existed. His brow is furrowed as he closes it and secures the latch. “You okay?”
I nod. “Just rattled. Thanks for letting us hide out here.”
“It’s no problem.” We follow him through the slush, a few patches of grass showing now.
Gage and Mac are chilling on the back deck.
“The media are really frothing at the mouth over you and Madden, eh?” Gage sets his phone face down on the side table beside his half-finished beer.
“Unfortunately,” I agree.
“You all want something to drink?” Brody asks. “We have a cooler of fun stuff and soda, juice, and water in the house.”
“And milk,” Mac adds.
“No one wants milk unless it’s going on cereal or in coffee,” Gage mumbles.
“I like chocolate milk.” Chase jumps to Mac’s defense.
“Water would be great for me, please.” My mouth is dry from all the anxiety and the adrenaline.
Chase accepts a beer and Cammie a soda.
We form a circle of Muskoka chairs. I wish I could relax, but I’m paranoid that a horde of reporters are going to ambush me again.
“Where’s Fee?” Mac asks.
“She was at the café with Enid,” Cammie says.
“We were supposed to meet them until we got mobbed,” I croak.
“I’ll just invite them here,” Mac says with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever.
Brody and Chase return a minute later with drinks.
“Dating a Terror player is a lot when you’re still in university, huh?” Mac muses.
“Today it is.” I’m emotionally exhausted from this ordeal and the level of attention we’ve gotten over the past week and a half.
“The prying questions are too much.” Mac’s voice is full of empathy.
“They’re really digging up his past.” Gage frowns at his phone. “Some of the pictures floating around are four years old.”
“What pictures?” My voice pitches up.
I glance between Brody and Gage, who are communicating through flared eyeballs.
“What pictures?” I ask again.