8. Cecelia
EIGHT
CECELIA
“Food’s here!” Violet calls, banging through the front door of our off-campus house.
“Thank God,” Cade moans, jumping up from where he was sprawled on the couch. “I’m starving.”
“Where’s Ash and Vega?” Vi asks as Cade and I crowd around her in the kitchen, grabbing for the white cardboard boxes of Chinese food as she unloads them.
“Who cares?” Cade asks, opening a container of fried rice. “More for us.”
Violet gives him a disapproving look and he sighs. “Fine.” Then he moves two feet to the kitchen doorway and bellows. “Ash! Vega! Food’s here.”
“So helpful,” Vi mutters, shaking her head. “Like I couldn’t have done that myself.
Cade’s shouting works, though, because our other two cousins join us a moment later. “I’m already so full,” Vega moans, even as she grabs a plate.
“Testing recipes today?” I ask, nudging Cade away from the fried rice before he eats it all.
“Cupcakes,” she says happily. “I think I finally figured out what was wrong with the lemon and ricotta recipe. But I had to go through like, seven batches to get there.”
Vega is a seriously amazing pastry chef. She’s had a YouTube baking channel since we were children. She even competed in a baking reality show for kids years ago, but we’re not allowed to mention that. Or the asshole who screwed her over to win the competition.
Now she’s looking down at the few pieces of Kung Pao chicken on her plate. “Ah, screw it,” she says, reaching for another carton. “My stomach will make room.”
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Ash warns as she heaps noodles on her plate. Vega just shrugs.
“Worth it. You know how I feel about Chinese food.”
We bring our plates out to the living room and gather around the coffee table, taking seats on the couch and floor. Cade runs back to the kitchen and returns with an armful of sparkling waters and sodas.
“Okay,” Violet says, once we’ve all gotten a few bites of food into us. “I want to know what had Ceece stomping around her bedroom all afternoon.”
I make a face at her. “I wasn’t stomping.”
Cade snorts. “Babe, my room is right next to yours. You were definitely stomping.”
I stuff half an egg roll into my mouth, trying to buy some time.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t really want to talk to my cousins about what happened at practice today.
Maybe it’s because I know the girls will give me a hard time about thinking Sol was hot at that party.
Or maybe it’s just the mention of my injury that has my stomach clenching.
But they’re all still waiting when I’m finally done chewing, and I know if I brush them off, they’re just going to get more interested and insistent. One of the downsides of being such a close-knit group—you really don’t get to keep many secrets.
“They’re bringing in grad students from the athletic training program,” I tell them. “To help us with training and rehab.” I shrug. “They do it every season.”
Vega narrows her eyes. “And that equates to you being in a pissed-off, stompy mood?”
I sigh. “They made a big deal out of the student trainer they assigned me. Apparently, they even gave him a smaller work load so he could really focus on rehabbing my injury.” I stab violently at a crab Rangoon with my chopstick. “Just sucks that they think I need extra work.”
Cade reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, I think we can look at this like a good thing,” he says. “It’s obviously important to them that you’re in the best shape possible.”
“Of course they want you in amazing shape,” Vega agrees. “You’re the most kickass player on the team. They’re not going to win shit without you.”
I manage to stifle an eye-roll. I was out the second half of last season and they did just fine. But I know Vega is just trying to hype me up, so I don’t say that.
“There’s something else,” Ash says, his eyes on my face. “Something else is bothering you.”
Stupid annoying, overly perceptive cousin.
“Ooh, do you not like your student trainer?” Violet sits up straighter.
Cade laughs. “Oh, God. Please, Ceece, don’t tell me it’s someone you beat up or something.”
I throw my hands up. “Why does everything think I’m constantly getting into fights?”
“I mean.” Vega stares at me for a long moment. “You kind of are?”
I huff and return to my food.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Cade sounds gleeful. “You totally did something to this poor student trainer. What was it? You got into a fight over a parking spot?”
“Maybe she got annoyed that they were breathing too loud in the library so she stole their textbooks,” Violet says, laughing.
“Or maybe this person hit on her and she punched them in the gut for being disrespectful,” Vega suggests.
I glare at them. “I didn’t do anything to this guy, okay? If anything, I have reason to be mad at him.”
Vega’s face lights up in a way that just screams danger for me. “A him, is it? You didn’t mention this student trainer was a guy.”
Ash makes a face. “Please tell me he isn’t one of your hook-ups.”
“Your many, many hook-ups,” Vi corrects, and I lean over to smack her leg.
“Don’t slut shame,” Vega sing-songs. “Just because CeCe enjoys the occasional one-night stand doesn’t mean we don’t love her.”
“Occasional,” Cade snorts. “Good one, Vega.”
I glare at him until he shifts over a few inches, probably realizing that he’s within kicking distance of me.
“I did not have a one-night stand with this guy. I barely know him.”
“But you said you had reason to be mad at him,” Ash points out.
“Come on, Ceece,” Vega whines. “Just tell us.”
“Tell us, tell us,” Cade starts to chant, hitting his hands rhythmically on the coffee table.” God, sometimes having cousins as best friends is the worst.
“It’s the asshole from the Kappa party,” I finally snap, just to get him to shut up.
The room goes silent. Violet is staring at me with wide eyes. “You mean…you have to work with Travis?”
“Oh, shit,” Ash mutters. “She really is going to kill him.”
“No, not Travis.” I make a face at her. “You think I wouldn’t have burned down the entire athletic complex if they tried to make me work with that asshole?”
“Good point,” Cade says.
“Besides, he’s not in an athletic training major, is he?”
Vi shrugs. “I don’t know. He was never really clear about what he was doing in school.”
“Besides having sex with you as often as possible,” Vega adds, making Ash groan.
“And every other girl on campus, apparently,” Vi mutters. But she doesn’t sound too upset about it, so I’m hoping she really is as over him as she says.
“Notice she still hasn’t told us,” Vega says, bringing the attention back to me. “If it wasn’t Travis, what asshole from the Kappa party are you talking about?”
Violet’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God,” she says, a grin spreading across her face. “Really?” When I just glare at her she claps her hands. “This is too good.”
“What?” Vega asks, looking between us. “Who is it?”
“Punch guy,” Violet crows. “CeCe has to work with punch guy for the entire semester.”
Vega’s forehead scrunches. “I don’t get it. That guy wasn’t too bad. I mean, yes, he was kinda rude. But I had just poured punch all over him. And before that he got in between Vi and that cheating asshole.” She studies me. “Why do we hate him again?”
“Oh, we don’t,” Violet says, still sounding way too amused by this whole thing. “At least, CeCe doesn’t.”
Cade looks between the two of us, Violet looking delighted while I scowl. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s because you weren’t there to see CeCe’s face when he took his shirt off.”
Vega looks hard in thought. “I have vague memories of him being hot but I think I was too drunk to really notice.”
“Pity,” Vi sighs. “It was almost unfair, really. I mean, those abs.” She grins at me. “And CeCe most definitely was not too drunk to notice.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say stiffly.
“Please. You were practically drooling.”
“I was not!”
She ignores me, looking to the others. “Tongue literally hanging out of her mouth.”
“Violet!” I snap as everyone laughs.
She looks far too pleased about this whole thing. “Is that why you’re freaking out? Nervous about the hot guy touching you in the treatment room?”
“No! Look, it doesn’t matter if he was hot or not—”
“Definitely hot,” she says. “No question.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “But again, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to work with him because he’s an asshole!”
“How do you know he’s an asshole?” Vega asks. “I mean, he did help Violet when Travis grabbed her.”
Vi’s grin grows. “Which, honestly, was just as hot as his insane abs and pecs.” She gives a little shiver. “So protective.”
“I hate you,” I tell her, and she just cackles.
I turn back to Vega. “It was cool that he got in between them,” I admit, even though I’m inclined to give more of the credit to Jay than his awkward, asshole friend. “But then he turned into a total dick. He was rude to you and to Violet.”
Vi rolls her eyes. “He was fine.”
“He didn’t say a single word to you when you were apologizing and blaming yourself even though it clearly wasn’t your fault.” I gesture at Vega. “And when she tried to wipe the punch out of his hair he snapped at her.”
“I mean.” Cade shrugs. “He had just been doused with sticky red liquid. Can we really blame the guy for being pissy?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “That wasn’t Vi’s fault, or Vega’s.”
“It was kind of my fault,” Vega says. “Since, you know, I’m the one who threw the sticky red liquid.”
“It was Travis’s fault!” I snap. “Regardless, he was rude to you. And I don’t spend time with people who are rude to my cousins.”
Vega shakes her head, but there’s a fond expression on her face. “I appreciate your unending loyalty, Ceece, but you don’t have to hate this guy just because of a couple awkward moments at a party.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Especially if his abs are really as amazing as Vi says.”
“Who exactly are we talking about?” Ash asks. I’d forgotten that he hadn’t been at the party to witness any of this.
“I don’t know his name,” Cade tells him. “I always see him with that Jay kid.”
“Solomon,” Violet says. “That’s what Jay called him.” She looks to me for confirmation. “Right?” I nod. There’s no sense in pretending I don’t remember at this point.
“Wait a second.” Ash, who had been lounging on the ground, sits up straight. “Are you talking about Solomon Barnes?” He stares at me. “Tall guy. Brown hair, wears glasses?”
“Ooh, I forgot about the glasses,” Vi says dreamily. “He looked good in the glasses.”
He did look good in the glasses, and I’ve been trying to pretend I wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t wear them today. “I’m going to slap you,” I tell Vi, and she cackles as I turn to her twin.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s his last name.”
It totally is. I looked him up after practice. And maybe, kinda stalked his Facebook, too.
Ash is shaking his head. “Solomon Barnes is not an asshole.” When I open my mouth to argue, he holds up a hand. “Seriously, Ceece. I’ve been in a poetry seminar with him for the last two semesters. He’s a good guy.”
“I knew he was a good guy!” Vega says, clapping.
Ash keeps going. “He’s definitely shy and pretty quiet. Honestly, I think he has some anxiety issues.” Ash shrugs. “Obviously something I would pick up on, right?”
Ash has anxiety issues of his own. And depression issues. Pretty bad ones, actually. The scary kind that I can’t even let myself think about for too long before I start to feel sick.
“But once he gets comfortable in class, he’s talkative enough. Smart as hell,” Ash continues. “And helpful—he’s good at explaining shit when other students don’t understand.” My cousin shrugs. “I like him.”
Vi hums softly. “Do you think that’s why he freaked out about the punch? Could it be an anxiety thing?” She looks at me. “I mean, it totally felt like there was something off about that whole situation.”
My stomach twinges with discomfort. I’d thought there was something off, too. The way his body had gone rigid. How silent he’d been. The way he flinched when Jay offered him a sweatshirt.
And now I’m starting to feel like an asshole. I’d assumed that Solomon was a jerk because he hadn’t bent over backwards to assure the girls it wasn’t their fault. But what if he had been really upset? What if the punch had set him off somehow?
I think about how Ash gets when his anxiety is really bad. Silent and withdrawn. Jumpy. Desperate to be away from crowds and loud noises.
Was something similar happening with Solomon that night?
An image of him from this afternoon jumps to my mind. The way he’d blushed and looked down when the head trainer said he was the best in the year. How freaking adorable that had been to me. How…endearing it was.
And then I see his eyes, dark and intent on my face, like he was trying to decipher my every thought. Like he couldn’t have looked away if he tried.
I don’t really like the way all of this is making me feel. I don’t do this. I don’t sit around and worry about a boy and I certainly don’t sit around and moon over his pretty brown eyes and cute little blush.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. The truth is, none of this really matters.
It doesn’t matter if Solomon is a jerk or not.
Doesn’t matter if he’d been rude to my girls or struggling with something I didn’t understand.
And it certainly doesn’t matter that he’s probably the most attractive guy I’ve ever met.
What does matter is my soccer season. Showing my coaches that I’m strong and capable. Showing the national team that, despite my injury, I’m worth taking a shot on again.
Our first match of the season is in a matter of days.
I don’t have time for cute boys with pretty eyes, sweet blushes and ridiculous abs.
Especially not when that particular boy’s presence on the soccer field and in the training room reminds me of my damn injury, and how close I am to losing everything I ever wanted.