Page 17 of Still Here Without You

“Yeah, he was going to text you to see how it went.”

Pulling my phone from my bag, I check the screen. Blank. I hold it up for Dylan to see. “Guess the jackass forgot,” I say with a shrug and a smile. “But I think I nailed it!”

“That’s great! So, he’s not just a pretty face?”

“Not even…” I joke, and Dylan breaks out in a loud laugh.

“I like you, Delilah. It’s nice to see someone take Joel on headfirst.”

“And win!” I say, bouncing my eyebrows. “Don’t forget that.”

Dylan’s lips pull into a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I won’t. You definitely won,” he says before his attention is drawn by a teammate calling his name. My brow furrows trying to decipher what he means by that.

“Sorry, Delilah. I’ve got to go. Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon?”

“Yeah, sure, great. Probably at the game,” I say, assuming that’s what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, there too. Catch ya later.”

What the hell?Shaking my head, I free my thoughts from that strange conversation just as I reach the locker rooms. Shelby, our team captain, is walking out of the showers as I make my way over. She eyes me curiously and opens her mouth to speak but then closes it again.Odd, but oh well.

Taking my time, I let the warm water soak through to my bones, loving the feeling of the spray on my back. I concentrate on the drops of water as they crash to the ground to stop myself from thinking about the big question that’s been weighing on my mind.What to do next?Turning the heat up higher, I focus on the feel of the burn, rather than my future, and by the time I’m turning off the tap, I’m red raw.

When I step out of the stall, Shelby is hovering near my locker, running her long mousy-blonde hair through her fingers.

“Everything okay?” I ask, making my way over. She was one of the girls very vocal about not approving of my internship. Before that, we got along well. Still, I’m nervous about what she has to say.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I just saw you with Dylan and—”

“Oh, he’s just a friend.”Shit! She's probably still questioning my commitment.

Shelby smiles at that. “How good of friends are we talking? Decent enough that you could introduce me and put in a good word?”

What?! Is she for real?

“Not that close, sorry. He’s more of a friend of a friend.”

Friend. Now, I’m calling Joel a friend? Somewhere along the way, that happened.Again, dammit.

Shelby nods, seemingly in understanding, but then says, “Good enough for me. You can introduce me at the game,” before walking away.

Guess I’m introducing them.

When I exit the stadium, I spot Joel and Dylan talking with a group of guys I don’t recognize. Considering I’d never previously noticed him on campus, he sure pops up a lot now that we’ve met. Once again, I find myself watching him. He seems to own the conversation—something that doesn’t surprise me one bit—and I can’t help but watch the way his hands move when he talks and the way he commands attention while making the others feel important at the same time. They’re smiling and standing tall, like whatever he’s saying is somehow building them up. Making them stronger. Kind of a strange assumption to make, but I’ve felt it. There’s just something about him. I mean, this is about the hundredth time I’ve thought of him today. And while I’m hoping it has something to do with the final I had earlier, I have a strong feeling that it’s more than that.

As though he can sense my presence, Joel’s gaze moves away from the group and instantly finds mine. I should be embarrassed about being caught staring, but I’m not. Instead, I wave, smile, and walk away, now almost certain that’s not the last I’ll see of him.

Summer classes finally come to an end, and before I know it, we’re running onto the field for the opening game of the football season. The high I feel is like nothing else. This is my drug. The atmosphere, the adrenaline, the buzz. Maybe I was stupid for even considering giving this up. Fashion might be my life’s goal, but could I really walk away from all of this, knowing college is my last shot at it? Maybe it’s good I don’t have to make that decision anymore.

I smile brightly as I finish a flip and raise my hands in the air to cheer. It’s safe to say that our practices have paid off because we are on fire today. Every heel stretch is in perfect alignment, every transition seamless, every flip, every jump…perfection. If this was a competition, we may very well have hit zero. Being here today has revived my passion, and I’m ready to give it my all. As the game plays out around me, I wonder what it would be like to do this professionally or to feel this high in a competition. To win that coveted trophy. I’ve never thought seriously about making the switch to the competition squad, but right now I’m wondering why I never considered trying out.

We’re in the final minutes of the game, and the boys are playing their hearts out, but the opposition is matching them in every possible way. The score is so close that the screams have turned to silence as the crowd waits with bated breath for the final play. When the game ends, I sag in a heap, my heart breaking for the guys. This may have only been game one, but it’s a relatively new team, and I know they wanted to prove themselves.

The cheer squad kicked ass today. We absolutely nailed our routines, and our cheers were unmatched. But none of that matters now. We're here for the football team, and their loss is our loss, so the mood is sour when we return to the locker rooms.

Dressed and ready to leave, I’ve just taken my phone off silent when it starts ringing in my hand.Dammit. That’s going to get me in trouble. Quickly silencing it again, I breathe a sigh of relief when nobody scolds me and wait for the coach to leave the room. She’s not a fan of phones in her domain. Hates the distractions they cause. As soon as she’s gone, I check the screen just as it lights up again with a number I wasn’t expecting to hear from. Moving into the corner of the room, I cup a hand around my mouth and answer.

“Hello?”

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