18. Cecelia #2
His hands move to my knee, feeling the joint.
“It’s swollen but not much worse than yesterday.
Let’s treat it the same for now but I’m going to have to tell Devon about this.
He might want you to see the doctor and make sure we’re not looking at anything more serious than travel-related irritation to the joint. ”
Normally I would argue with him. Fuck no do I want the head trainer knowing it’s bothering me.
Devon will definitely want me to see the doctor.
And that means the coaches will know, too.
But I just can’t bring myself to be bratty with Sol right now.
He doesn’t need to hear me whining about it when he’s just doing his job.
He doesn’t wait for an answer anyway, just moves right into massaging the muscles around my knee. I study his face but he doesn’t look at mine.
“You can wear headphones if you want,” he eventually says. Normally I would, with any other trainer except Solomon. But since we’ve started working together, I haven’t felt the need to get lost in music during treatment even once.
“I’m fine like this,” I tell him. He nods and continues to work.
Once he’s done with the soft tissue work, he sets up the Game Ready machine.
He bends over me to adjust the compression cuff, bringing his face closer to me than it’s been since last night.
“Solomon,” I murmur, wishing he would just look at me.
He finally does—but I wish he hadn’t. His eyes are so blank it scares me. Still, I try to press on, try to figure out a way to help him. “Can we talk about—”
“No,” he says simply, decisively. “I need to go check on a few other girls. The machine will turn off in fifteen and you can hit the showers. Shout if you need anything.” Then he’s gone, leaving me sitting alone on the table, worry causing nausea to pool in my belly.
I stare at the empty door for a long moment before I finally pick up my phone. I scroll through the contacts until I get to his name and press call.
“Jay?” I say once he picks up. “I need your help.”
Nerves make me feel shaky as I stand outside his hotel room. The rest of the team and staff are out for dinner, but when I found out Sol was skipping, I decided to skip too. Besides, I needed some time to get everything together.
“He might act like a jerk,” Jay had told me on the phone. “I know it’s hard to walk away when he seems so out of it, but there’s not a lot you can do.”
That’s fine. He can be a jerk to me. He can ignore me. I don’t mind spending the night sitting in the corner of his room, scrolling on my phone or something. But what I am not going to do is leave him on his own.
Feeling bolstered, I raise my hand and knock. Then knock again when he doesn’t answer. And again. I sigh, pulling out my phone to send him a text.
Me: You can either let me in or I’ll sit out here in the hallway all night
He doesn’t respond.
Me: Probably wouldn’t be super good for my knee to spend hours sitting on the floor, but oh well. I’m not leaving.
Finally, there’s movement on the other side of the door. I hear the deadbolt turn and then the door swings in, revealing Sol standing there. He’s in the same clothes as before—track pants and a school shirt—but he somehow seems more rumpled. Run down. And the blank expression hasn’t faded.
“I brought you dinner,” I say, squeezing past him. I don’t give a fuck that he didn’t invite me in. I’m at least going to make sure he has something to eat.
He sighs, not shutting the door, clearly expecting me to leave right away. “Cecelia, I’m tired.”
“That’s cool.” I walk over to the desk and start taking things out of the bags I brought. “I’ll just hang out while you rest.”
“Cecelia.” His voice is sharper now, but I kind of figure that’s progress. Better sharp than empty.
“I wasn’t sure how many of these you could eat,” I go on, ignoring him. “I know that I can usually put back at least three on my own.”
There’s a pause before he speaks again. “What is that?”
“Microwave mac and cheese. I have Sprite, too. And some more snacks if you’re still hungry.”
Another pause. “Why did you bring me mac and cheese?”
I turn away from the supplies on the desk to look at him, and my heart seems to stutter.
He doesn’t look so blank anymore, but he doesn’t look like himself, either.
There’s something vulnerable in his expression.
It makes me wonder what Sol looked like as a little boy, and I just want to wrap my arms around him.
Instead, I straighten my back. “I called Jay. He said mac and cheese was your comfort meal, so that’s what I got. But we can order in if you’d rather something else.”
He blinks at me, forehead scrunching in confusion. “You called Jay?”
“I did.” I return to the bags. “I got Sprite, too, because he said that was your favorite. And I brought a LEGO kit—”
“How the hell did you find a LEGO kit?” He still sounds a little flat but at least he finally lets the door shut behind him. I smile to myself, relieved that he’s not kicking me out. Not that I would let him, but still.
“I took an Uber to Target,” I say.
He’s still looking at me in that baffled, vulnerable way. “I don’t understand.” He swallows. “Why would you…I mean, you saw the way she talked to me last night. You can see how fucked up I am. Why would you… I’m not good company, Cecelia. Obviously.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. His voice makes it clear—he can’t fathom that anyone would want to be with him when he’s feeling this way.
“Look,” I say, forcing down the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Hell, we don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. We can sit here in silence and stare at the wall for all I care. But I don’t abandon my friends when they’re having a hard time.”
“Are we friends?” he asks, voice so low I almost can’t hear it.
“Of course,” I reply, even though there’s a part of me that wants to tell him no. The same part that desperately wants to be more than this guy’s friend. The part that’s been howling at me to go and kiss him again ever since the party.
Instead, I smile at him. “So can I stay?” I hold up a hand when he opens his mouth. “And before you answer that, keep in mind that I’m staying regardless.”
He lets out a low laugh. It’s soft and not very enthusiastic, but I’m taking that as a huge win.
“Well in that case,” he says, some of his usual dry teasing tone coming back to his voice. “You may as well get comfortable.”