Chapter 26 #3
There’s no immediate response, so I shove my phone back into my shorts, pull on my sneakers, and head downstairs. My other two housemates, Garrett and Jamie, are already downstairs. They pause to welcome me back, then continue rushing around, grabbing everything they need for our weight session.
We all pile into Garrett’s Explorer to head to campus. The guys fill the short trip by complaining about the hundred-yard shuttles and sled pulls during practice this morning.
I “uh-huh” and “hmmm” along to their complaints, more focused on the weight of the phone in my pocket. Waiting—hoping—for it to buzz.
It doesn’t.
There’s an audible stir when the five of us enter Clarkson’s athletic complex. A few guys from other sports teams stop to slap hands. Girls wearing tight spandex slow as they pass us. Drew and Jamie engage most of them, rolling their eyes at me when I don’t pause.
Aside from baseball, it’s the main thing I’m known for on campus. Even at the start of freshman year, when I was technically single, I didn’t hook up with anyone. It’s well known that I have a girlfriend, but since Lennon has never so much as visited campus, plenty of people pretend not to.
My phone buzzes in my pocket right as we enter the weight room. I whip it out so quickly it’s a miracle I don’t tear the mesh material. And it’s not a random news alert or social media notification. It’s from her.
Lennon: I miss you too.
Air leaves my lungs in a much-needed exhale. It’s not that I doubted she did or would. It’s that I needed her to say it.
“Winters!”
I turn to see Coach Thompson approaching. Hastily, I tuck my phone back into my shorts. He hates technology and I’m already on thin ice.
“Hi, Coach,” I greet.
His shrewd gaze looks me up and down. I know evidence of Lennon’s recent sleepless nights are clear on my face.
“You good, son?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply.
I was just as vague with him about my whereabouts as I was with the guys, which I know is a large part of the pushback I received.
I told Coach Thompson there was a personal matter I had to take care of, and my reliability in the past and importance to the team is the only reason I’m not being asked to pack up my locker right now.
“I trust you had a damn good reason for your absence?”
I swallow. “I lost someone I cared about, Coach. The funeral was this morning.”
His expression softens into a sympathetic one I’ve never seen before. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He keeps studying my face. I’m guessing the lines of exhaustion and lingering sorrow are saying a whole lot more than our conversation over the phone did. “If you need to take more time, let me know.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
He nods. “Nice to have you back, Winters.”
“Thanks,” I respond. Coming from Coach Thompson, that’s basically the equivalent of a bear hug.
We set up our usual circuit around the weight room. All the teammates I hadn’t seen yet give me warm greetings and relieved smiles. I wonder how many of them thought I was absent due to a serious injury, like Elliot.
Once our weight session ends, the whole team heads to Maloney’s. The local pizza and wings joint is already buzzing with activity that significantly increases in volume when the team appears.
Baseball is Clarkson’s most popular sports team. Mainly because we win . The last time Clarkson’s football team had more wins than losses was before I was born. In the three years I’ve played on the baseball team, we’ve made it to playoffs every season.
We fill up three booths along the side of the restaurant that faces the street.
The town Clarkson is located in doesn’t hold much of a draw to anyone but college students attending school here, but there are a few younger families walking along the sidewalk outside.
Probably here to camp in the surrounding mountains.
I end up smushed in a booth between Drew and Elliot, impatiently tapping the table. I’m starving. Aside from the eggs I burned this morning before choking them down, I haven’t eaten anything. Lennon didn’t eat anything at all. My table drumming quickens as I battle the urge to text her again.
Before I can fully talk myself in or out of a decision, our waitress appears.
“Hey, boys,” Jessica greets.
Her attention bounces between Drew and Jamie, who’s seated across from me. Unlike most of the girls who hang around the team, Jessica has divided her attention between my two housemates since freshman year.
Predictably, the love triangle—lust triangle would be more accurate—has generated lots of drama. When guys tell me I’m wasting my college years in a serious relationship, I wonder what they make of this mess. The other side of casual hook-ups is not all that sexy.
“Five large cheese pizzas,” Elliot orders. “Actually, make it six. And two pitchers of beer. No, three. We’re celebrating having our pitcher back!” He claps my shoulder. “Get it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” I assure Elliot.
“Coming right up,” Jessica replies.
A few of the guys here aren’t twenty-one yet, but Maloney’s popularity has more to do with its generous carding policy than its greasy pizza. “I might need one of you guys to help me carry it all over.”
“I will,” Jamie immediately offers.
“All right.” Jessica departs with a coy smile, while Drew stares daggers at Jamie.
Elliot sighs next to me.
I’m not the only one fed up with their drama.
“Why don’t you guys find someone else? Each find someone else,” Elliot stresses.
“Like who?” Jamie scoffs. “A freshman?”
“Make a move on Sophie,” Elliot replies.
“She’s still holding out for Winters,” Jamie replies, glancing at me.
I take a sip of water, pretending I didn’t hear that comment. Maybe after our last conversation at Mayfair, the dynamic will be different.
“Surprised Sophie isn’t here, asking where you’ve been the past few days,” Drew comments.
I don’t reply. Truth is, she texted me asking just that. It’s one of many messages sitting unread in my phone right now.
“Here’s the beer.” Jessica sets two pitchers down on the table in front of us. Foam fizzles atop the amber-colored liquid. “I’ll be right back with the third one and some cups.”
She’s back within thirty seconds, then Jamie jumps up to help her fetch the pizzas. We’ve all devouring hot slices and cold beer within minutes. But the food and familiar company isn’t enough to distract me.
I’m worrying about her.