Page 20 of The Longshot

Delaney exhales a sigh of relief, reaching out to place a careful hand on my arm. “You’re a lifesaver, Wilks. What would we do without you?”

I shrug confidently before placing my hands into my pockets. “I ask Coach that same question every day.”

“Delaney, love,” Helen, Warren’s mum, shouts from behind, drawing her attention away. “Come on over. I want to take some pictures with you and my future grandbaby! I’m gonna be a nana.”

Delaney laughs. “Coming, Helen.” She places her slice of cake on the table. “Thanks again, Wilks,” she praises me once more before turning to Coach. “And you.” She places a finger against his chest. “You need to be more careful next time. What would we have done if Wilks hadn’t come to the rescue? You hear me?”

Coach bites down on his bottom lip, and I can only assume it’s to suppress the rage he’s about to take out on me when Delaney’s out of earshot.

“Yes, love.” He sulks like a scolded puppy dog as I indulge in a massive bite of cake.

“More careful indeed,” I say between bites, menacingly agreeing with her.

“Catch up with you two in a bit.” Delaney breaks away from the table, leaving Coach and me alone at last.

“So…” I break the agonizing silence between the two of us, ready to accept my ill fate. “How many laps will I be doing next practice?”

“No laps.” Coach is absurdly calm as he reaches for a cake slice himself, taking a quick bite before he thoughtfully pauses and jerks his head back. “What the fuck?” His brows furrow together as a look of disgust washes over his face. “Why does it taste like that?”

“Like what?” I flash him a confused stare. The cake tasted amazing to me. In fact, I was just about to go in for seconds.

“Come here.” Coach waves his hand, gesturing for me to step in towards his plate. “Smell it,” he insists. “What does that smell like to you?”

I lean in, attempting to get a sniff, but not a single scent goes in. The only thing that goes up my nose is frosting as Coach firmly squashes the cake against my face.

Those around us begin to laugh, prompting me to pull back and rid my eyes free of the vanilla.

“Get a good whiff, Wilks?” Coach firmly pats me on the shoulder, leaning in so his voice is that of a direct whisper. “‘Cause that’s the smell of fucking payback.”

SIX

C H E L S I E

“On Monday, he came by our dorm room. I peered at him through the peephole but pretended like I wasn’t there. Then, I saw him waiting around after your English Literature class on Tuesday. It’s like he was waiting for you to leave. By Wednesday, some of his mates approached me in the library to ask when I’d last seen you. I covered it up, but they were persistent. So persistent, Chelsie, and then on Thursday he?—”

“Holly.” I cut my roommate's weekly debrief on Simon’s search short. “I get it.” I have to suck in a tired breath to soothe my anxiety. “Trust me, I get it.”

It’s apparent that tracking me down has seemingly become Simon’s new full-time hobby. It amazes me that this is what he’s opting to do in his free time, yet doesn’t shock me in the slightest.

A long, drawn-out sigh carries through the line as I hear Holly slump back into the stiff mattress of our dorm room. “What are you going to do, Chels?” Her voice is full of confusion yet immediately shifts to that of concern. “All of this over a break-up? I just don’t get it. Why won’t he stop? Let up?”

I bite down on my lower lip as I run a desperate hand along my brow. “This is just what he’s like, Holly,” I attempt to justify his unjustifiable behavior. “Why do you think we broke up?”

A silence falls through the line. A silence that tells me that she’s having, yet again, a hard time believing the lies I’m throwing her way.

Sure, part of what I’m saying is the truth, but there’s so much more that I refuse to get into. Besides, it’s not her burden to carry. Holly’s already swamped enough with being in her final year of uni, let alone having to navigate Simon and his dickhead crew.

“Do you at least know when you’re coming back?” Holly asks as I rush around my bedroom frantically, attempting to find my work shirt, given that my shift started almost fifteen minutes ago…

“I don’t know,” I murmur out the truth. “It depends, but based on what you’re telling me, not anytime soon.”

“What about your mail?” Holly probes as I spot my T-shirt across the room. “I’ve got like, a whole stack of things here for you.”

I throw my hair into a low ponytail and straighten out my shirt in the mirror. “I uh…” I ponder the thought, knowing damn well I won’t be stopping by the campus anytime soon to pick it up. “Think you can mail it to me?” I propose.

“I could. But that would require me to know where you are.”

I slump my shoulders, debating on what to do.

---