Page 114 of More Than Chemical
“And…”
“I need to get a bank statement, and to do that, I need to borrow a car. Do you know anyone who has one parked on campus?”
“I do.”
“Great.” I grinned. “Who?”
She opened her eyes wide and raised her eyebrows. “Dallas.”
The smile on my face slipped away. “You know I can’t ask him.”
“Why not?”
“I …I need to fix this whole NCAA ineligibility thing. That’s all. As soon as I can do that, then maybe I’ll feel better about talking to him again.”
She shrugged. “So you’re avoiding him?”
“Sort of. But he hasn’t texted me or come knocking on my door either. The avoidance is mutual.”
“As a reminder”—she narrowed her gaze on me—“you’re the one who told him that things were over, and then when he tried to talk to you after that test, you gave him the silent treatment. He’s giving you space because that’s exactly what you wanted him to do.”
I flinched. She was right.
“And the longer it goes on, the harder it will be to ever not avoid him,” she added.
I cringed some more. The truth did hurt. “Okay, okay. Just a few more days. That’s all I need.”
I took out my phone to text my mom.
Mom, I have a favor to ask.
The next day, I pulled into the parking lot of the car dealership in my mom’s car and let out a deep breath. My stomach was in knots.
I walked through the glass doors. The showroom was large and airy. The interior smelled of rubber and new cars.
“Can I help you?” A lady at the main reception desk with long manicured nails asked me.
I knew that Dallas’s dad was working. I’d called beforehand to make sure. “I’d like to meet with Michael Reynolds.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
She typed something into her computer. “He’s with someone right now, so you can sit and wait for him, or I could pair you up with another of our sales consultants.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.” I sat on a chair against the outer glass wall. Next to me was a brochure. I started to page through it.
Fifteen minutes went by. I kept squirming in the chair to get comfortable.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to find another salesperson for you?” the lady asked again.
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
After another fifteen minutes, Dallas’s dad approached me.
I took a deep breath and stood up.
He stuck out his hand. “Hi, my name’s Mike. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
