Chapter 17
DENALI
GOOFY GUY ROUTINE
When I was sixteen, my mom threw me into a class called Life Skills.
Really, after Zariah broke up with me, my mom threw me into everything to alleviate the depression and get me out of the house, but that class stuck with me.
It encompassed a variety of life skills including how to keep a house clean, and I was surprised to find out just how much I enjoyed it.
I thrived on developing my own cleaning systems. My siblings complained I became anal about messes, but I didn’t care. A clean house was nonnegotiable for me.
And Elijah knew that. When I’d decided to move in with him, I’d handed him the list of dorm rules. What he did in his own room was his business—I didn’t give a shit—as long as he kept that to his room and our common space was clean, I was satisfied.
So when Zariah’s stuff was crammed in our living room, most of our towels were soaked from pipe water, and she filled our shower with haircare products, I could see the look on Elijah’s face from a mile away.
He pulled me aside, out of earshot from Zariah. “Is this gonna be a problem?”
Was this a problem?
A problem?
Absolutely fucking not.
Zariah was the eternal exception to every rule I held.
She could’ve brought a mallet to knock down the walls, and I wouldn’t have said anything. I probably would’ve moved things out of the way to give her better access.
That night, I laid in bed, drumming my fingers against my chest. Things were still confusing but…better? She smiled at me now instead of ignoring me. That was progress, wasn’t it? Was it?
Maybe?
I knew the way I felt about her had evolved. It was more intense, a pulse deep inside I couldn’t ignore.
Zariah was addicting all over again.
By ten o’clock I wrestled with the idea of getting a glass of water. Just a glass of water. She was still awake and it’d be dark in the living room, and we’d have to talk in quiet voices. It’d be…cozy.
I pushed up from the bed, thinking it over. One glass, maybe a couple of words, and I’d say a real goodnight.
Alright. A glass of water. That’s it.
I opened the bedroom door but stopped when I heard the rhythmic click-click-click of Zariah typing on her laptop. She must’ve been staying up to write. For a moment, I listened to her.
It wasn’t like the sharp click of her typewriter, but the memories were the same. I used to hang out on Hersch’s couch to the click-click-click of the typewriter while Zariah peered over it to smile at me.
Shit. This wasn’t like that at all.
Our living room was now Zariah’s domain. I didn’t want her to think I’d pop up for the rest of the night, barging into her space. I wanted her to feel comfortable. And that wouldn’t start with me getting that glass of water.
I left the door slightly open, then slowly made my way back to bed. Listening to the click-click-click, I drew in another slow breath, sleep finally catching up to me. It wasn’t like saying goodnight but listening to her type was pretty good, too.
Hockey practice the following afternoon was brutal. We were days away from the WTU game and fucking determined to win. We performed the same drills until we shaved seconds off our time, everyone giving their all. I was exhausted when I stepped off the ice and not in the mood for Nick’s stupidity.
“So, how’d you do it?” he asked, joining me on the bench.
“Do what?” I muttered, tugging off my helmet.
“Fuck with Zariah’s plumbing? How’d you do it without getting caught?”
I threw him an exasperated look, and he kept his laugh low while we pulled off our skates. “Can you give me one day without busting my balls?”
“Why is it so hard for you to admit it, Captain?”
I scanned the rink for Elijah. He was with the other defensive players, listening to Coach in a post-practice discussion. And Zariah and June were buddied up on the bleachers, watching a movie on her phone. Nobody would overhear.
“Because she doesn’t like me like that, Nick.”
“That’s easy to fix.”
I grunted, unamused, and headed to the locker room, Nick behind me.
“I’m serious. She’s living at your place, make her breakfast.”
I shot him a doubtful look. “Breakfast?”
“Fridge!” Nick lounged against the lockers. “Do women like when you make them food?”
Fridge emerged from the showers wrapped in a towel. “Everyone likes when you make them food. We’ve been doing it for thousands of years. It’s integral to the human experience." He grabbed a shirt from his locker. "Don’t ask stupid questions, Nick.”
“Women love my sausage,” Pickles joked.
“If they did, you’d be getting laid more,” Nick retorted, turning to me. “Cooking is a guaranteed way to get women to like you. It’s why I never cooked for any of the girls I brought over. I didn’t want them to fall in love with me.”
“You also can’t cook,” Fridge snorted.
Nick ignored him and elbowed me. “See? Breakfast. And not oatmeal or some bullshit either. You don’t want to be ‘Oatmeal Guy’ on her phone.”
“Denali? Can I talk to you?” Montoya asked from the door.
With our rotating practices, our group was heading out, and Montoya’s group would be heading in. And I was sure he had a question about the WTU lineup. With a sigh, I joined him in the quiet area outside of the locker room.
“What’s up?”
“I didn’t know who else to tell. I think this is going to upset Zariah, and Coach is busy, and Mom—uh—Cleo’s not here, and—and—I don’t know. I know I shouldn’t get involved but—”
“What?”
“Do you remember that basketball player at the buses? The guy Zariah used to—um—see?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s outside. In the parking lot.” Montoya’s voice lowered, a nervous twinge in his words. “He’s waiting for Zariah.”
Outside? Was Zariah seeing him again? No, I didn’t believe that. If she was, I would’ve seen him around. And by Montoya’s tone, this wasn’t a happy coincidence.
“His name’s Jeremy, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He quickly nodded. “Zariah and I got lunch at Gianna’s and he interrupted, she was really mad.
But—uh—” Montoya rubbed the back of his neck.
“One of her best friends from the football team, Adam, introduced her to Jeremy. There’s this thing going on with him and her friends—it’s like, I don’t know, some kind of court thing?
Zariah said her friends have enough going on, she doesn’t want them to find out about Jeremy. ”
That took away some of my options. I couldn’t call campus security, and I didn’t want to involve Sémajuste.
“Thanks, Montoya,” I said. “That’s helpful.”
He blinked. “Really?”
I moved towards Zariah. “Yeah, it is.”
I broke her away from June. Soon, there’d be a flood of my teammates leaving the Colo—we only had a couple of minutes before everyone was involved. It wasn’t like the guy Elijah nicknamed ‘The Mammoth’ would be easy to hide in the parking lot.
When I told her, Zariah cursed under her breath. “Shit. Does Elijah know? Does Cleo know?”
“I didn’t tell anybody,” I said quickly. “I came to you first.”
“You…came to me first?”
“I didn’t know how you wanted to handle this.”
She watched me for a moment, surprise written across her face. “Oh.”
I waited for her to say something, but Zariah was silent. Probably waiting for me to speak.
“If Elijah sees him, we both know he’s going to make a scene,” I said.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Talk to him?” Zariah crossed her arms, the softness in her eyes replaced with steel. “Elijah’s told me that a bazillion times, I know what that means. I don’t need a clone of my brother throwing punches.”
“Hold on, I didn’t say I was going to punch him.” I thumbed towards the door. “But he is following you around and if he doesn’t leave—”
“No, there’s no ‘if’ here.”
“Zariah—”
“If you talk to him, you can’t put a hand on him.”
“But—”
“Swear it.”
I didn’t like the restrictions but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this wasn’t just me talking to Jeremy. This was Zariah entrusting this conversation to me. I couldn’t abuse that trust, I couldn’t fuck this up.
Reluctantly, I nodded. “I won’t touch him.”
“Swear it.”
“I promise.”
With Zariah’s permission, I left the arena. This conversation wouldn’t take long. It’d be a quick and painless notice for him to leave. No fights, no punches, Zariah wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore, Elijah would stay out of trouble. Win-win. It’d be the end to the Jeremy problem.
I found him sitting on the curb, his long legs stretched out while he played a game on his phone. God, he really was a goofy motherfucker. Everything about him said ‘boy scout.’
Did he even know he made Zariah uncomfortable?
Holy shit—was this me five years ago? My steps faltered as I really gave that some thought. Jeremy clearly didn’t know what he was doing. According to Elijah, he said some shitty joke, and Zariah broke it off with him. He must’ve thought he was doing the right thing, showing up to apologize.
I had to talk some sense into him. “Jeremy?”
He grinned when he saw me. “Hey!”
“You’re here for Zariah?”
“Oh, yeah.” He quickly stood up, dusting off his pants. “Is she coming out?”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“We need to hash it out—”
“I know how you see this, I understand. You think you can talk to her, apologize, and everything’s going to be fine, but you don’t realize you’re making her uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“The ball’s in her court now. If she wants to contact you, she will. It’s better if you leave—”
“Are you done?” He smiled, the goofiness gone.
I paused, taken aback by the sudden change. “What?”
“Are you done with your little speech? Can I go inside now?”
“Jeremy, you’re not going inside.”
He tried to pass me, and I blocked him on instinct. He tilted his head, stepping closer. Was this guy trying to intimidate me? Where the hell did that goofy guy routine go?
“Move aside,” he warned.
“Dude, you’re kind of being an asshole.”
“And you need to get the fuck out of my way.”
Holy shit. He knew exactly what he was doing. I couldn’t believe how much I’d misread him. Uneasiness rolled inside me. Was his goofy guy routine an act? He wanted me to pity him and let him into the arena? And when he realized that wouldn’t work, he dropped it—how could I have been so stupid?
I had to calm down, because I wanted to shove him back, to kick this fuckhead down. I didn’t want him anywhere near Zariah. But the promise kept me locked in place. Punching him had consequences.
Zariah would be so mad at me, and I couldn’t handle that again.
He kept getting in my space, but I pointed towards the corner of the building. “Do you see those? Those are cameras.”
“What about them?”
“If you keep following her, I’ll talk to your coach.”
“You’re a Gladiator, you couldn’t get past security,” he taunted.
“Zariah’s close to the football coach. I’ll talk to him too.”
Jermey laughed. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “If I was threatening you, I’d do it differently. I’d say you’re a basketball player for one of the best college teams in the country. You have endorsements, sponsorships, a ton of money tied to you. I don’t have any of that.”
“No shit.”
“You’d fight clean because you can’t afford not to.
Me? I have nothing to lose,” I lied, slow enough to make it sound natural.
“If you want to try something, I’ll make sure you never play basketball again.
" I took a step closer. "Tell me, Jeremy. What are your sponsorships worth if I break your fucking knees?”
The smile vanished. He paused.
I held my hands up. “But I’m not threatening you. Because I promised Zariah I wouldn’t hit you. And if you make me break that promise, I’ll be fucking angry and take it out on you.”
I could see him working through the problem, grinding his teeth.
“You have ten seconds to leave and you’re not coming back,” I warned. “Ten, nine, eight…”
At three, Jeremy shoved away from the wall, his body stiff with anger. I watched him storm across the parking lot until the front door opened again. Bear walked out with his arm around June, his fingers in the front pocket of her jeans, Elijah and Zariah behind them.
“Denali?” Elijah frowned at me. “Dude, we were waiting for you.”
Zariah caught my eye, a simple question passing between us, and I nodded, keeping my eyes on Elijah. “Sorry, I had a call, I’ll meet you guys for lunch, I still have to grab my stuff.”
The others nodded and headed out, but Zariah met me inside. “Did he leave?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t…?”
“I didn’t put a hand on him.” I wrestled with the uneasiness, but I couldn’t keep this to myself. “I need to tell you something. Jeremy isn’t a good guy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, I know Elijah said he told you a joke or whatever, but—” It was hard for me to describe that shift that came over him. “His face changed, like the facade fell away. It was so fucking weird—he’s not a good guy.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You know?”
“Jeremy said it was a joke, it wasn’t a joke.”
“What was it?”
“I was getting ready for a party, doing my makeup, I worked on it for like an hour. I showed Jeremy and he laughed and said, ‘that’s what you have to show off, because it won’t be your small ass.’”
I froze.
Slowly, I exhaled, putting my focus on that while Zariah watched me.
He said that? If I knew that walking outside, I would’ve done something a lot worse than threaten him.
Fuck, I would’ve provoked him into trying to hit me.
It would’ve been a real fight in the parking lot—my team would’ve had to hold me back from beating his ass.
And…Zariah knew that.
She calculated what I would’ve done before I knew it and made the decision not to tell me.
“What the fuck?” I finally asked, my words scraped together. “That’s not a fucking joke.”
“Yep, it was a test,” she said nonchalantly.
“Guys purposely say things like that. They want to push your boundaries until they find the line you draw, and then they push you even more. They like the apprehension, they like wearing you down, it gets them off.” She lifted a shoulder.
“Trust me, I got really good at detecting those games last year. I’ve learned my lesson.
When I sense something’s off, I leave. I’m better at doing that now. ”
I didn’t know what to say, I felt sick. I had no idea people did that. I’d certainly never experienced it. And I didn’t know that Jeremy was like that until he showed it to me, while Zariah clocked it so easily.
Her eyes softened. “Hey? Thank you. For dealing with that quietly.”
“Any time.”
“We’ve got to catch up with Elijah…”
“I still have to get my stuff,” I said. I told her I’d catch up with them, but when she left for the door, I wasn’t finished. “Zariah? I mean it. Any time.”
Her voice was quiet as she turned back to me. “I know you mean it.”