Chapter Ten #3
GJ positioned herself over me, our bodies caught up in each other under the sheets. Her skin was soft and warm against mine. “We could just pretend the article doesn’t exist.”
“You basically just told me you were dying to see what it says.”
GJ rolled her neck. “I want to know, but I don’t want to know. Either way, I’m going to be up all night thinking about it. It’s a lose-lose.” She turned to me. “Unless you want to give me another type of distraction.”
Warmth rushed between my legs at the thought. I was starting to think I would never leave if GJ never asked me to. U-Hauling had never made more sense.
But we couldn’t. I wasn’t setting myself up for failure like that.
“You have practice,” I said, which was a much more casual and cool girl response than I can’t stay because I’m worried I’m going to become obsessed with you.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I pulled out my phone, quickly needing to get my eyes off of GJ before I got myself totally lost in staring at her. “At the very least, let me read it, and then I can tell you how bad it actually is.”
“But what if you read it and agree with what they say? How am I supposed to live with myself then?”
Her tone was light enough that she could’ve played it off like a joke.
But I’d known GJ for years now—not well, but I’d seen her on the court.
Seen her with her friends. Heard her make jokes and saw her post them online.
I knew people could have a different outward presence than how they felt on the inside—I was all too familiar with that—but GJ had never been self-deprecating.
“I actually know you as a person; an article isn’t going to change my opinion of what I see in front of me.”
GJ was so uncharacteristically quiet that I was worried I’d managed to really offend her this time. I glanced up from my phone, worried this was going to be when she’d finally switch up on me and I’d be reminded that everyone really was the same.
But instead, she was staring down at her hands, deep in thought. She looked earnestly sad, which was breaking my heart into about a million pieces.
“Hey,” I said gently. I locked my phone and put it face down, tilting her chin toward me. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t doubt for even a second that you will get out of this just fine. You’ve been too good for too long to just go out like this. You just need to get back in the swing of things.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”
I nodded thoughtfully and tried to think of something nice to say, but I knew how it was.
Athletes at this level, no matter how chill they seemed, were not chill about losing or getting drafted.
Saying You don’t have to be a first-round draft pick to an aspiring professional athlete was pointless. All of them needed it like oxygen.
Growing up, there hadn’t been a single thing that could be said or done to Mags to make up for a bad game.
And if Mags had been the one who played badly, it would take what felt like years for her to get over it.
Sometimes it didn’t seem like she ever did—she still made comments about games she’d played in high school.
“Ellie wants me to work on drills with her on the side,” GJ said and readjusted on the bed. I could tell that what she’d just said, hanging in the air between us, was making her uncomfortable. “She just asked me earlier today.”
“That sounds really nice.” I propped myself up on my hand so I could look at her. “Are you gonna do it?”
GJ took a long inhale, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I mean, I told her I would. But I don’t know. I feel kind of weird about it with everything. It feels kind of like a pity offer.”
“Or an olive branch. She probably wanted to make sure you didn’t think the team agreed with the article.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s what her intention actually was. But I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like the resident failure either way.” She turned to look at me. “I’m sure Mags is loving this, though.”
“Mags mostly feels defensive over the team. Somewhat surprisingly,” I added with a small smile. “She’s taking her shots, but pretty much everything comes down to her ego at the end of the day. She only cares about how this will all impact her.”
“Well, the good news is she’s probably quickly moving up in the draft pick list. I’m probably out of the first round predictions at this point.”
“Maybe playing with Ellie will be a good break from it all,” I offered. It was the best I could come up with.
GJ had turned back to look at the ceiling again, and I was nervous that maybe now I was actually overstepping.
We’d gotten to know each other, but this was a conversation with weight.
I didn’t really know GJ. I knew I liked spending time with her, and I’d slowly learned about things she liked and didn’t like, the things she found funny, the things she hated.
But I didn’t know how she was when she got annoyed or mad or frustrated.
I didn’t know if she was going to go cold on me because I’d asked a question that was too personal or because she’d said something she deemed too personal.
“This has been a good break from it all.” Her voice was low, almost like she was telling me a secret.
My heart fluttered in my chest. There was no mistaking what she meant.
“It has been,” I whispered. And it was true.
When I was with GJ, I didn’t really think about my family at all, outside of occasionally making digs at my sister.
I didn’t worry about what was going to come next after graduation.
I didn’t feel that baseline existential fear that had really kicked into overdrive this year.
“Okay, you can read the article. But I’m not looking at your screen,” she finally agreed.
“Fair enough.” I picked up my phone again and moved slowly enough to give her a second in case she changed her mind. But she didn’t; she let me search up the article, pull it up, and start reading.
Despite the frankly super cruel—not that I’m biased—headline, the article itself was pretty mild. It was hard on the Coyotes as a whole, and there was a lot of talking about Theo, as if any team would be able to fill the void of a number one draft pick overnight.
“They only mention you, like, twice in the actual article,” I said. “And they use a great photo of you, which I feel like should count more than anything.”
GJ glanced over, and I tilted my screen toward her so she could see it. “It is pretty good,” she admitted.
“It literally looks like one of those pictures kids buy as a poster for their walls,” I said. It was true—she was midshot, her face full of determination. Her arm muscles were also absolutely rippling, but I was not going to get into that with her sitting right next to me.
GJ’s lips turned up in a smile. “What does the article actually say?”
“Everything you’d expect—the team is struggling, your record is good, but it’s not from steady and predictable wins.
A lot of their record is from luck and not skill, kind of thing.
But you’re mentioned along with pretty much every other senior on the team.
I really think they did just use your name for clickbait.
You’re an easy target since people spent years talking about you and Theo in conjunction with each other. ”
GJ fixed her jaw, and I wished I could know anything at all about what she was thinking. She was sharing more with me than she ever had, but I knew she had more she could say.
“And draft predictions?” GJ asked.
My stomach knotted. That was the one part of the article that probably wouldn’t feel great to hear—it was true that some people in charge were cautious about wanting to draft GJ.
There was a lot less enthusiasm now than there was last season.
And it was all for predictable reasons I couldn’t necessarily fault them for—they needed someone good under pressure and someone who could play consistently well.
I looked over at her. “It doesn’t matter—I think you’re going to prove them wrong.” I put my phone down and reached for GJ to move on top of me again, knowing the best way to distract her.