Chapter Twenty-Two
Pretend - Grace
Iwalk back to the house on Friday afternoon for lunch.
My afternoon class has been canceled, and I’m going to take a nap before I have to go to swim practice.
When it’s October, we’ll finally be out of endurance training and start on routines and doing artistic swimming in the water, and I cannot wait.
I brush my fingertips over my necklace. But in October, I’ll also be “breaking up” with Wyatt. I feel physically sick as soon as I think of that happening.
How can something that seems so real be so …
pretend? I think of last night and the way Wyatt played with my ponytail at Milo’s.
How he looked at me before he kissed me good night outside of the sorority house.
The way he held my hand in his as we left the history lecture today, swinging it between us as he asked me how I thought I did on the quiz we just took.
Wyatt has to be falling for me like I’m falling for him, doesn’t he? I hold on to that thought, and hope that by the time he plays his first hockey game of the season, he won’t want to break our arrangement.
That he will want to keep me as his Gracie girl.
My sad feelings are beaten back when I hear him call me that in my head. Yes, I know, he likes me. He could have been playing it up as a boyfriend, but it didn’t feel that way.
It felt real.
My phone rings, and I glance down to see it’s Natasha. I missed her call last night—I was still at Milo’s—and I was too tired to call her back. I accept the call as I walk through campus.
“Hello!” I say cheerfully.
“You live!” she gasps dramatically.
I chuckle. “Oh my God, I’ve been so busy. I’ve got swim practice twice a day. Sorority stuff. School …” I trail off. There’s so much more I could say. About Cove Style. Wyatt. But I don’t want Natasha telling Mom any of that.
“Grace. You can tell me as little or as much as you want about your OCU life,” Natasha says.
I blink. How did she read my mind? “What?”
“I was at OCU, too, you know. I told Mom what she wanted to hear. I gave you filtered events because I was told to be a good example for you, and you were five years younger. But you and I are older now. It’s not easy being Caroline Walsh’s daughter, and …
well, I didn’t say anything last year because you were starting off on your own journey.
But as your big sister, I wanted to let you know I’m here for you. ”
Despite my shock, I bite back a laugh at the word “journey” popping up. Of course Natasha would bring the conversation here. But I’m taken aback by her words. I had no idea she ever felt this way.
I continue walking, moving toward the edge of campus and closer to the neighborhood surrounding it. “Natasha, I don’t know what to say. I just … I always thought you were a carbon copy of Mom’s experience, without the literature part.”
“Well, I did Phi Mu Phi, and I ended up loving it—so that push from Mom was a good one—but outside of that? I did my own things. And I always felt bad for you having the gift of writing because that meant Mom was going to be overinvolved with your college experience. I have no talent for that, so I was left alone.”
“What is bringing all this on?” I ask, growing suspicious. Is she acting as a spy for Mom?
She sighs. “Okay, I’m telling you this, but you cannot tell Mom I told you.”
My stomach ties into a knot. “Okay.”
“We had lunch yesterday. She came out to the winery, and she was talking about how she wanted you to have an enriching experience at OCU, but she was worried you weren’t taking literature as seriously as you should.
That you weren’t applying yourself. Perhaps you were distracted by swimming, but you needed to start writing, and she asked me to call you and find out what was going on and why you weren’t applying yourself. ”
I stop walking. Anger begins to build inside of me, and I notice the phone is shaking a little in my hand.
“Now, before you blow up—and trust me, if this were reversed, I would—I told her I would absolutely not be doing that and if she truly loved you, she would leave you alone.”
“What?”
Natasha exhales. “Grace, I don’t want you to have the college experience I did.
With Mom and Dad breathing down your neck and demanding perfection.
Oh, they’ll still do that, but I want you to know, as your sister, I’m on your side.
You can come to me at any time, and I’m going to run interference on your behalf. ”
I think I might pass out. I never in a million years thought Natasha would feel this way. “I … I don’t understand. I thought you were just like Mom,” I say.
She laughs. “No.”
“No?”
“I feel bad, Grace. If we had been closer in age, I would have confided in you, but you were younger and I didn’t think you’d understand.
And I didn’t want to dump that on you or make you worried about having your college experience be like mine.
I think the lunch with Mom stirred up some stuff in me, and I don’t know, I just want better for you. ”
I continue my walk, turning on to Clark Street, but I’m on autopilot. I’m too stunned to think of anything else except what Natasha is saying.
“But you were vice president of Phi Mu Phi!”
“Yeah, and that push from Mom was a good one,” she says.
“I ended up loving it. But I only rushed because she practically demanded it. Luckily, I don’t grasp literature at all, so I was a lost cause on that, but I loved the sorority life.
Mostly because of the parties, and it introduced me to a lot of guys.
But I had a whole life there that none of you knew about.
And I wanted to tell you it’s okay for you to do the same. ”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Grace. You don’t need to be Mom’s puppet. Keep swimming. Do what you want to do with Phi Mu Phi. This is your college journey. Not hers.”
“I'm submitting pieces for Cove Style,” I blurt out.
“The fashion magazine!” Natasha says excitedly.
My anger recedes, replaced by a smile. “Yeah. I had so much fun writing my sample articles. Mom doesn’t know about that.”
“Your secret is safe with me. I think that’s amazing, Grace. I hope you get on with them.”
“Me too.”
I decide that telling Natasha about fake dating a hot hockey player because of a stupid bet would be a bridge too far, so I keep that one to myself.
Instead, I talk about the house, the mixers I’ve been to, swim practice, and my classes.
I ask her how work in Napa is going, and by the time she’s finished, I’ve reached the front door.
“Hey, I’m at the house now, so I’m going to grab lunch,” I say. “But I can’t thank you enough for telling me this. I needed to hear it.”
“You’ve always been stronger than me,” Natasha says. “Keep pushing for what you want. And just know I’m in your corner.”
I end the call and stare at my phone in shock. I know I said I wanted this year to be filled with new experiences, but I never dreamed forming a closer relationship with my sister would be one of them.
And I’m happy about that.
I use my key card and open the door. There are girls hanging out in the living room, and when I walk in, they stop talking and smile at me.
“Those are for you!” Tori Matthews calls out.
“What’s for me?” I ask, wrinkling my brow.
“On the hall table!” Ashlee Vaughn says.
I turn around, and there’s a vase on the table filled with a lush display of blush-colored roses. “Me?” I ask, looking back at the girls.
“Your name is Grace Walsh!” Tori grins.
My heart leaps as I make my way over to the table. The fragrant blooms are gorgeous, and there has to be at least thirty of them in this vase! I look at the card, which, like Tori said, is addressed to me. I pluck the cream envelope out of the arrangement and open it:
Gracie girl, this is how a man should give flowers. Wyatt.
Oh my God. Wyatt sent these. He sent them after he saw Asher gave me a rose!
He. Was. Jealous.
Which means he might have real feelings for me.
I scoop up the flowers and rush for the elevator.
I don’t trust myself to carry this huge vase and not trip up the stairs.
My body is humming with excitement, and I can’t wait to snap him.
I put my key card to my room door and step inside.
I place the roses on my desk, take a picture, and send it to Wyatt, along with a message:
These flowers are GORGEOUS! Thank you so much!
Wyatt responds:
I’ve got to keep leveling up my A+ game.
My stomach swoops with joy and I flop back on my bed. Another message from Wyatt drops in:
Hey, I know you’re super busy this weekend—hanging out with your teammates tonight, the general demanding you pre- and post-game with Phi Sigma on Saturday for football—but what are you doing on Sunday?
I can’t stop smiling as my fingers fly across the keyboard.
I love that Wyatt respects my plans with my friends, like I do his, but he still wants to see me.
But there’s no need for us to be out on Sunday.
We went out Thursday night, and people saw us today getting coffees and holding hands and hanging out next to the fountain, like we always do after lecture.
He’s doing this because he wants to.
I’ve got some homework for my literature theory class, but it won’t take all day. Do you have something in mind?
I wait for his response.
I do. Want to go ice skating on Sunday afternoon?
And as soon as I read his message, I can’t reply YES fast enough.
***
Wyatt pulls into the parking lot of the new OCU ice complex. There’s the hockey arena, where OCU practices and plays all their home games, but inside there’s another rink for ice skating, and they have public skating hours every day.
Once again, I’m reminded of how expensive and incredible these facilities are, while our locker room is in desperate need of basic things. Like a decent nozzle in the shower.