Chapter 39
ZARIAH
A LOVELY TRAP
My dorm experienced a metamorphosis. Denali’s toothbrush stood next to mine, his clothes were arranged in my closet and my dresser, there was work-out gear in a wicker basket in my living room, footnotes of him were everywhere. They reminded me that he was close and wanted to be here.
We were nesting, and letter-writing, and constantly cuddling, snuggled up together while I tapped away at the script.
My words per minute increased. I finally understood avalanche-writing. My friends always talked about it, this rush of words that gets more and more intense, the snow gathering down the mountain, until the story bursts from your fingertips.
With Denali, I wasn’t winding my way around my words.
I labeled them clearly, with purpose, unafraid of what they meant, with the knowledge that I had to get them down.
I didn’t care if things weren’t perfect anymore, I just knew I had to try, and in those attempts, I discovered I could write more than I thought I could.
With that, my priorities changed. I stopped seeing the script as the end-all to please Professor Wright. My only intention was to feel. I’d tried happy outlines, sad outlines, but the one that made me leap out of bed to write, and jot down notes in the shower, was crafted from a bittersweet memory.
It was the source of hurt that prematurely ended my summer in Colorado. I didn’t write it exactly how it happened. I used bits and pieces throughout the summer, weaving them together with everything that made my heart squeeze.
I was finally on the right track because of Denali.
Humming, I made my way to the Colo. The boys had a late practice, and I wanted to join them for their team dinner. It wasn’t just because of my boyfriend and Montoya either, I missed the team a lot during winter break. We got closer than I realized.
I waited by the locker rooms when Cleo caught my attention. I waved but her face was unnaturally tight.
“Zariah?” She curled her fingers, motioning me over. “You and I need to talk.”
I smiled. “Hanging around for dinner?”
“No. This is a private conversation, this is between us.”
I'd seen Cleo bark at the Romans to fall in line and they did it without question because Cleo was someone who commanded respect. She was a true type-A with a no-nonsense attitude. I’d never seen Cleo…nervous before?
I barely made it into her office before she locked the door behind us.
“Coach Lawson taught me to be direct about these things,” Cleo said, sitting behind her desk. “Zariah, are you in an unsafe situation?”
“Uh, no?”
The light from her laptop danced across her face as she typed. “You told me about a boy who followed you here.”
“Oh. That was a—erm—misunderstanding.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on the housing roster,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out who he is.”
I realized why she called me in. My throat tightened. “No, no, no—”
“And for the end of our hockey season, I’ve been digging through our players’ old photos. I couldn’t believe what I found.”
She flipped her laptop around and I stared, unmoving. It was the picture that’d been part of my Christmas present. Denali and I were fifteen years old, and we were stuck to each other like glue.
“Zariah?” Cleo said. “This is you.”
My eyes darted to hers. “It’s—I—”
“We both know the Gladiators were terrible last year. At the beginning of the summer, more than eighty percent of our players were transfers. They decided on Marrs because they had to. When it comes down to it, we have a team of players without choices. All except one. There is one hockey player who specifically picked this team.”
“Cleo, you don’t understand—”
“That’s correct, I never could understand Denali’s decision. Marrs was his first pick—why? He’s a USAC championship winner! Why would he come here?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Why did he pick this school, Zariah?” she pressed.
The reason sounded weak even to me. “He—he wanted to lead a team, and—”
“So he chose Marrs? So many other schools would’ve killed to have him as captain—”
“He—uh—wanted Texas and—”
“Okay, fine. For argument’s sake, let’s say that’s true.
” She shut her laptop. “How about Denali and Elijah’s friendship?
They were “fast friends” before the summer even started.
Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked.
“Because this is how I see it. You broke up with Denali when you were teenagers, and now he’s transferred to your university, integrated with your family, he’s living across the hall from you—”
“Those are coincidences,” I blurted out and winced. “Kind of.”
“He’s best friends with your brother out of coincidence?”
“Yes—”
“Your twin brother?”
“He didn’t know we were twins!”
Cleo stared at me, dumbfounded. “Zariah.”
“I know, I know—”
“Denali had no idea? Like how he had no idea the storage closet was locked from the inside?”
Words escaped me. I blinked, stunned. “The storage closet? At the…alumni night?”
“I made a complaint to maintenance, and they said there was a note on the door. So, let’s take this to its natural conclusion. Denali found a storage closet with a ruined handle, he took off the sign, he knew you’d go find him, and—”
“No.” I shook my head, dread creeping in. “No, he wouldn’t do that.”
“Denali rearranged the bus times so you could come to games, he begged Sémajuste to let you come, he’s dropped your name in interviews.
He ran the workshop for you, he changed the defense team’s schedule because he knew you’d be around the Colo more—” She searched through papers on her desk.
“He switched his car to parking lot J2. I have no idea what that has to do with you, but I’m sure it must. Why else would he pay the hundred-dollar mid-semester parking fee? ”
“A lot of this is just weird coincidences. And Denali’s apologized for—”
“Apologized for what?”
The silence was overwhelming, but I refused to believe any of it. My relationship with Denali wasn’t a trap I fell into. He changed, he wasn’t the same person, and I made the decision to be with him. Denali didn’t trick me. He didn’t take that choice away from me.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I finally said. “When he was a kid, he had boundary issues and wouldn’t accept that I wasn’t ready for some of the deeper stuff. Like—um—marriage—”
“Like marriage? When you were fifteen?” She inhaled. “I can’t believe Elijah hasn’t said anything.”
“It’s none of his business.”
“So you haven’t told him.”
I flinched. “Cleo, we can’t tell him yet, you know how he’ll react, and we’re in playoffs—”
“We’re not talking about playoffs, fuck the playoffs!” she said incredulously. “Zariah, are you okay? That’s my concern!”
“I’m okay, I swear,” I insisted, pushing out of my chair. “Believe me, I know how this sounds. If it was anyone else, I’d be on your side too, but you don’t know Denali like I do. He’s different now. He’s changed.”