15. Nolan
Nolan
I stand near the front of the group, where the announcer prompted participating athletes to stand, knowing this is just as much a matter of pride among the teams as it is a fundraiser.
I glance in Hadley’s direction again. She’s listening to Ethan, a smile claiming her face.
The emcee announces the countdown is about to start, and my attention moves to the stage and then to the soccer team.
I have zero reservations that my neighbor tries to drive me up a fucking wall.
His habits and hours are too intentional to be innocent.
Hudson assumes it’s because their team is so vastly underfunded compared to football or basketball, Palmer assures it’s jealousy because they don’t draw the crowds or attention we do.
Even lacrosse and rugby draw larger crowds than men’s soccer.
The countdown starts and people inch forward.
The second the bell rings we set off at a sprint through downtown.
Palmer’s the fastest guy on our team, but as we race down the sidewalks in the direction of the cookie shop, we’re a pack, a couple of guys from the soccer team and the basketball team pacing with us.
We stop to do jumping jacks at the first corner, sing at the next, spin in circles, and then do pushups before reaching the parking lot of the cookie shop where volunteers cheer for us. Tables are set up with bags of cookies.
I tear open a yellow sack, the scents of sugar barely registering as I stuff two cookies in my mouth, chewing like my position on the team relies on this race.
I’m finishing my final cookie when my blinders drop and I notice Sam at the table across from me, munching on a cookie.
I glance at his sides, the table in front of him and behind him, not spotting Hadley or Hannah, and realize ass face ditched them.
I take the glass of water a volunteer hands me and hand it to Palmer. “Fucking win,” I tell him.
He gives me a silent toast, tips the glass back, then sets off in a sprint as others scramble to finish and set off after him.
I turn, searching through the crowds until spotting Ethan, Hannah, Colin, and Hadley beside him. Hadley smiles through a wince that has me noting her slight limp as she moves forward.
I snag a few bags of cookies and meet them, so they don’t have to fight through the crowds.
“What are you doing?” Hadley asks, shaking her head as she looks in the direction of where the race continues and then back at me. “You’re going to lose.”
“No one loses today,” I say, tossing her a bag of cookies. “What happened?” I look at her leg. “Is it your knee or your ankle?”
“I’m fine.”
I look at Ethan for an answer. “The tape came up from all the runners. She tripped over one of the power cords.”
“Extension cords and I are not friends,” Hadley says.
“Does it hurt to put weight on?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she insists. “You’re going to lose. Why’d you stop?”
Ethan pats me on the back. “Respect, man,” he says, quietly. “I’m going to grab water,” he says louder to the group as he passes me.
Hadley tears into her bag and eats half the cookie in one bite, and then the other half. “Are you good with them?” she asks, turning to Hannah who nods.
Hadley grabs my arm, shoving another cookie in her mouth as she moves forward, and while she does one hell of an acting job, I can tell she’s favoring her right leg.
“What are you doing?” I ask, capturing her waist with one hand, and turning her to face me.
“You were supposed to win.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You can’t get revenge any other way.”
I shake my head. “This wouldn’t begin to serve as revenge.”
“We can still do this.” She eats another cookie.
We couldn’t, even if we left now. “It doesn’t matter.”
She shakes her head. “It does. Eat this.” She shoves a cookie at me, looking both ways, conspiratorially, as though someone might notice and unqualify one or both of us.
I eat it, and then a second, and a third until all her cookies are gone. Sugar clings to her lips, tempting me to lick them clean.
“Let’s go,” she says, grabbing my hand.
I shake my head. “You’re not running on that ankle.”
“I’m fine.”
“We need to get you some ice.”
“We need to go, we might—”
“You’re not finishing the race,” I tell her.
Her eyes flare with a clear shot of challenge, and I know that was the wrong thing to say.
“You’re hurt. You don’t want to run on a sprain. It will only injure it further. If it’s slight, you’ll be able to recover in a couple of days, weeks at the most. But if it’s severe, it could require crutches, physical therapy, all the shit you won’t want to do.”
“You shouldn’t have stopped.”
“I shouldn’t have left you,” I argue.
That ice that formed over her eyes melts as she swallows, silently daring me to say it again or expand upon the claim. “I don’t think it’s even sprained. I just twisted it. It’s not swollen. Look.”
I do and she’s right, it’s not swollen or discolored, at least, not yet. “We’ll walk it,” I concede. “But if you start limping, I’m carrying you over the finish line.”
She scoffs but then seems to recognize I’m not joking and sobers. “I’m fine. I swear.”
I extend a hand. “We’re walking,” I repeat.
She frowns, something near a grimace as we continue, following the crowds that are still mostly running. The fastest people have already left, including everyone from the football team except for Ethan, Colin, and Pops who’s helping pass water out.
“So you’re planning to return to Vegas after graduation?”
Hadley nods. “What about you? Do you want to return to Indiana?”
“That depends on what happens.”
“With football?”
I nod.
“Do you want to go pro?”
“That’s the dream, right?”
“Is it your dream?” She stares at me and doesn’t look away when I glance back at her.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She doesn’t sound incredulous like some, still, her eyes sharpen, waiting for an answer I can’t provide. I don’t know what the future will bring. Hell, I don’t know what spring will bring. “Have you picked a topic for your next speech or is it still top-secret ?”
“What do you want to do if you don’t go pro?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you came to Camden.”
Hadley’s eyes narrow. I laugh, setting my attention to her feet, trying to weigh the balance in her hips and knees to see how she’s doing. “It must be a good story,” I say.
She shrugs. “Maybe I just like teasing you.”
“I can think of a dozen ways I’d rather you tease me.”
Surprise flares in her eyes, but before her reaction can settle, she moves to allow someone to pass between us.
I close the gap she permitted. “How’s your ankle feeling?”
“Fine.”
“My next speech will be on how to be a better public speaker. I thought they might appreciate the irony. I’m hoping to pick your brain a little.”
I nod, grinning at her humor. “Pick away.”
The sidewalk gets increasingly crowded, the speed walkers and joggers catching up with us. Someone recognizes me, and another asks for my picture. Hadley grins, offering to take the picture.
By the time we make it back to campus, the yard is filled with people who have completed the race. The bell that marks each person’s completion is ringing continuously as I search for the team, hoping to see Palmer with the victory cookie plaque in his hand.
The sound of Hadley taking a sharp breath has my attention snapping to her.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she says. “Just a wrong step.”
I bend and place a hand beneath her legs, the other at her back, and scoop her into my arms. Her body is rigid, eyes wide with alarm.
“What are you doing?” she objects.
“I told you I’d carry you if it started hurting.”
“It was one wrong step,” she protests, planting a hand on my chest and pushing away.
“Because the ground’s uneven.”
“You can’t carry me.”
I raise a brow. “Watch me.”
“Nolan. This is ridiculous. I feel ridiculous.”
“Keep moving, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”
She pulls her head back fractionally. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She doesn’t.
I make it to the statue where we both reach forward, rubbing the toe to mark our completion.
“Where are you going?” Hadley asks as I pass those celebrating and cut between two buildings.
“The facility.”
“The what?”
“Someone needs to look at your ankle.”
“It’s okay. I need to find Hannah.”
I nod. “Text her. We were going to hang out anyway. Our trainer needs to look at your ankle.”
“I don’t need to see a trainer. I’ll be fine.”
I nod, continuing down the incline that takes us to the sidewalk.
“You’re not going to stop, are you?”
I snicker and shake my head. “If our little game doesn’t teach you anything else, it’s that once I get my mind set on something, there’s no stopping me.”
Her arm around the back of my neck tightens. “A product of being a middle child?”
“I’m not the middle child,” I remind her. “Four’s an even number.”
“Or maybe you and Katie are both middle children?”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“Were you and Katie competitive growing up? Like with homework and sports and things?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Were you and your siblings?
“Geoff and Lanie were crazy competitive with each other. They still are. Game nights are ugly, and some games are even banned—specifically Parcheesi and Risk. And the wishbone is thrown away before the turkey is placed on the table for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What was your thing?”
“What was your thing?” she counters.
“Sports.”
“Science,” she says, equally matter of factly.
I chuckle. “You might have a little more of that competitiveness than you know.”
Her jaw falls open, a look of shock and innocence that only makes me laugh harder. “I’m not this way with others. Only you bring out this brand of stubbornness in me.”
“ Or you’re just comfortable being yourself around me and you’re actually this competitive and stubborn.”
“Says the guy who refuses to let me walk.”
“I own my stubbornness.”
She rolls her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips before her attention turns to the wide brick building in front of us. “Last week was my first time here.”
“You’d never watched a game before?”
She shakes her head.
“Those are the dorms,” I nod toward the immense brick building behind us as we pass the doors into the facility.
“It’s always open?” she asks.
“For players.”
“Why?”
“They’d prefer if we never left.”
She pins me with those blue eyes, oblivious to the effect she has over me as I push through the player’s door that leads to the locker room and rooms filled with gear, trainers, a movie theater, and more. “Where are we going?”
“You’re getting the private tour.”