Chapter 5 #2
I consider my words carefully, but I know I need to be honest. Taking care of his plants is not sustainable.
“You signed the same contract as I did.” I stop watering and turn to meet his eyes.
“Well, the same contingency: no fraternizing between cheerleaders and players. You know that, so why did you hire me? I shouldn’t be here. ”
“But you are.”
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from his piercing blue gaze.
He continues. “Because you need money. And a car. And a room now, apparently.”
I laugh bitterly, immediately hating the way it feels in my mouth. “Geez. I’ve never had someone list it all out like that before. I didn’t realize how miserable my circumstances sound.”
“I just thought I could help.”
“What are you gonna do next? Offer me a room?” I laugh, but when he squints at me, it’s like I can read his mind.
Which is really weird because he’s mostly unreadable.
He tilts his head, parting his lips, but I hold up a hand before he can say anything.
“Look. As much as I appreciate this gesture—and honestly, I’m not sure anyone has ever done anything so nice for me before—I don’t think it’s a good idea if we work together anymore.
I mean, with the whole fraternizing contract thing—”
“First off, this wasn’t me being nice.”
“Then what was it?”
“It’s because the other night in the parking lot, you…” A fold forms between his brows.
“I what?”
He sighs, giving up on whatever word he was searching for. “You sounded a bit pathetic.”
My stomach drops. “Pathetic?”
His lips press into an expressionless line, the rest of his features following suit.
I can’t help but frown in return. Tears well in my eyes, and that’s it.
They spill over along with a deluge of words.
“So you’re helping me because I’m pathetic?
That isn’t nice. That’s… Well, it’s kind of mean.
It’s not a nice motivation. That’s not what I want to hear. ”
A hand runs down the back of his neck as he glances around the room. It’s like he’s looking for an audience, like I’m somehow going to cause a scene while we’re alone in this house. “Okay, fine. If you’ll stop wailing... I wanted to be nice. I wanted to help.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“I just figured I have something—money—to offer, so why not?”
My typical sunny disposition falters and cracks, a scowl clouding my face as the tears start to subside. “Must be nice.”
“I didn’t mean to rub it in or whatever.”
“Well, you kinda did. It’s fine. It’s fine!
Everything is fine.” I dot my eyes with the collar of my My Grandma visited Philly and all I got was this lousy shirt!
T-shirt. Which I have to admit is probably not the most professional work attire.
My cheer director would crap a critter if she knew this was my business casual.
“You know, Ty. I shouldn’t be upset. I’ve just met the biggest goal of my life. ”
“And what’s that?”
I press my hands into my hips. “Becoming a Vista City Kings cheerleader, obviously.”
He doesn’t say anything, just grunts as I make my rounds watering and inspecting each plant.
Other than the verdant leaves of these potted plants, Ty’s house is a little sterile.
Considering how much he’s saved by adding next to zero personal touches—and the address alone—it’s obvious he’s got money to spare.
The ceilings are high, the windows oversized, it’s truly an architect’s dream.
But there’s no homey quality to it. The plants help to stave off full-on stuffiness but not much.
I consider telling him I can take care of his plants if he agrees not to be home when I arrive, that way we don’t have to interact, but I know it’s a weak loophole if anyone finds out.
“You know, Ty, as much as I appreciate you trying to help me, I think we both know this isn’t going to work.
” I square my shoulders with finality, not quite ready to kiss this paycheck goodbye.
Turning down Ty means I’ll be even further from affording a solo apartment, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that money comes and goes.
Unfortunately. And for me, there’s been a lot more of the going lately.
If cheerleading didn’t pay so poorly, I’d be better off.
If they didn’t require their team members to hold full-time jobs on top of this part-time cheerleading gig, I’d be even better off.
Everyone throughout the audition process was very impressed that I owned my own business; they didn’t realize how close it’s been to tanking.
The snail-pace rate at which it’s growing is the impressive part.
I carry on, watering and humming, trying to ignore the mute giant standing mere feet away from me. Catching a whiff of his cologne as I make my way down the line of plants, I can’t quite put my finger on what the notes are, but he smells divine. Spicy and high-end.
Ty steps forward, his hands in his pockets. “You can’t transfer my plant care.”
I don’t look up. “Yes, I can, Ty. This is my business. I can do whatever I want. And what I want is to not get kicked off the team before my first practice. I’ve waited too long for this.
It’s the only thing that’s kept me together the last few years.
If I hadn’t had this to focus on, who knows where I’d be. ”
When he doesn’t reply, I turn to look at him. He lifts his chin, his brows arched, hands still firmly in his pockets. I stare right back as I empty the makeshift-watering can into the last pot and hold it out. He takes it without a word, and then I turn on my heel, heading toward the front door.
“What do I owe you?” he asks, trailing behind me.
As much as I need the money, as much as I want to take something from him or tell him to transfer me some on one of my money apps, it doesn’t feel right. It’s bad enough that I’m here. If I accept anything from him—or worse, leave a paper trail—I could very well be screwed.
I hold up a hand as I slip on my flats. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell your friends, and that’ll be payment enough.” I think about what I’ve just said. “You have friends outside the team, right?”
He stares at me blankly. “I barely have friends on the team.”
I pause to see if there’s a twinkle in his eye to punctuate the joke, but nothing is twinkling. He’s not joking.
“Oh… Just promise me you’ll repot those with some good potting soil sooner rather than later.”
“All of them?”
I hold back a laugh. “If you want them to survive, then yes. All of them. Well, good night, Ty. Goodbye and good luck this season.”
Before he can answer, I shut the front door and run to my car.
Slamming the driver’s door behind me, I suck in a long breath, opening my partially filled digital planner—note to self, stay on top of that more—and marking the appointment as fulfilled.
Against my better judgment, I find my thumb hovering over Ty’s number.
I should delete it. Wipe him from my memory.
Block him, even. It’s what’s best for us both.
So please tell me why I save it instead.