The Coaching Hours(34)
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you think at some point we should talk about this?”
“Talk about what?”
“You know, the fact that we’ve…that we’re physical.”
He shifts to face me. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’m not trying to make this weird, but it’s been on my mind the past few days. I’m not one of those girls who can do things casually. I just can’t. So, before we get carried away, I want to talk about where this is headed.”
“What do you mean?” He pushes a stray lock of hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ear.
“What are we doing? Does this change our relationship?”
“I hope not. I like you and I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
“That’s not really what I meant. I need to know if your feelings for me have changed now that we’re having sex, because I like you.”
A lot.
And I don’t want to be fuck buddies.
I don’t want us to be just roommates.
I don’t want to be just friends, either.
“I like you, too, Anabelle. I just…”
Oh God, he’s hesitating.
He hesitates so long it becomes awkward, and I’m afraid to pull back to get a better look at his face.
“What, Elliot. Just say it.”
“This isn’t a good time for me to be starting an actual relationship.”
My bare shoulders tense against his cozy cotton bedding. “So are you saying you don’t want one?”
“I do, Anabelle, but it’s complicated.” He says it kindly, almost consoling. “I’m applying to grad schools all across the country, but none here. Chances are, I won’t be back after the end of the semester.”
I did not know that.
I mean, I knew he was applying to graduate programs, but we’ve never discussed where. Not once did he tell me he was leaving at the end of this semester.
Which is in a matter of weeks.
“Right. I get that, I was just asking.” I fake a laugh. “Relax.”
I release his hand, rolling away from him, toward the wall, distancing myself so we’re no longer touching. Stare at the beige paint and blank space, fighting back tears.
Elliot runs his hand up my bare spine; I want to shrug it off and tell him not to touch me, but I don’t want him to see me pout. Or worse…cry.
“Anabelle…” The rawness in his voice is so thick, I ache for him, too, even though he’s the one hurting me. “Anabelle, I’m trying to make something of my life. I didn’t have it easy growing up—my parents weren’t financially successful until I was older and wanted to make sure I had a strong work ethic. I’m not here on a scholarship, and they’re only paying for a portion of my schooling.”
I didn’t know that either. “Where have you applied?”
“Michigan. Texas,” he continues in a low, soothing voice. “LSU, and a few other smaller places.”
Wow.
Just…wow.
My eyes sting, blinking hard, and I’m grateful he can’t see my face. The last thing I want is for him to feel guilty. He’s not my boyfriend.
He’s my roommate and he’s moving and I’d be wise to remember it. Just because Elliot is the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I know doesn’t mean we were meant to be.
“When will you know where you’re accepted?” I try not to sniffle.
“Soon.”
“Oh.” I dip my head into his soft pillow, letting the cotton soak up the tears that have begun to fall, doing my best to keep them out of my voice. “Where do you want to end up?”
“I don’t know. I’m from Iowa, but I’d rather not stay in the area. There’s nothing for me here.”
A hard lump forms in my throat. “I see.”
“Do you?”
The room is silent, and I stopped breathing minutes ago.
“Anabelle,” he whispers gently. I wish he’d stop saying my name. “We’ve only had one semester together and we’ve never been on a single date—you know it makes no sense for me to stay.”
We never went on any dates because he never asked.
“Do you care for me at all?” It’s desperate and needy but I don’t care. I only care how I feel in this moment, and the words I crave to hear, memories and words I can latch on to, to replay in my mind when he’s gone.
He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around my middle, chin resting on my shoulder, burying his nose.
“If I were to stay behind for anyone, it would be you, but I can’t give up my education or career for what-ifs.”
I go quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m not gone yet.” He’s quiet, too, and I hear him swallow a lump in his throat. “Do you still want me to come with you to your dad’s wrestling match tomorrow?”
“Of course I do,” I barely manage. “If you’re not busy.”
“Are you still bringing that sign for Gunderson?”
“Yes.”
“Then of course I’m coming—I wouldn’t miss something like that. I want a front row seat.”
“Good, because I don’t want to go alone.”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll be right there with you.”
For now.
He doesn’t say it, but we both know that’s what he means.
Because he didn’t apply to any grad schools in Iowa.
Elliot
“You’re sure that’s what you want the sign to say?”
“I’m sure. Best to leave things vague, don’t you think?”
“Not really, but this is your thing, not mine.”
“You put the idea into my head in the first place, remember? ‘Get revenge,’ he said. ‘It’ll make you feel better,’ he said. Well, I’m not catty, and the book on revenge said acting on it will make me look psycho. Therefore, this sign is as good as it gets.”
Anabelle is carrying a piece of neon pink poster board, on which she painstakingly stenciled the words: HEY REX! WILL YOU STILL WANT TO “DATE” ME AFTER MY DAD FINDS OUT ABOUT YOUR BET?
“I have no objection to walking in with a sign, but you don’t think it’s a little…wordy? And sparkly?”
“The words all fit, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“It’s wordy and it’s sparkly.”
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t get it.”
She huffs a sigh. “My dad is going to see it, get mad, storm over, and then confront Rex about it. It’s genius.”
“Because you want to tell your dad and teach Rex a lesson about publically embarrassing someone?”
“Exactly. This is payback for last year—what he did to that guy was mean.”
It was. However, “And you honestly feel doing the same sort of thing is going to make him change?”
“It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
“If you say so.” I glance down at her trotting along beside me down the block. “You want me to carry it?”
“No, I got it. I’m going to fold it up and hold onto it until the moment is right.”
“When will the moment be right?”
“I don’t know, probably when my dad knows I’m there and makes eye contact with me in the seats.” She holds two fingers out on her right hand and points them back at her eyes. “He’s always watchin’. Trust me, he’ll see this—everyone will.”
“What do you think he’s going to do?”
“Get pissed. Fly off the handle. Kick Gunderson off the team.” I’ve never seen her so resolute about anything.
“I mean, technically he’s not on the team…”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him. A team manager is a big deal, Elliot. Make no mistake, Rex Gunderson’s position is important.” We walk along, both wearing Iowa wrestling T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, making our way to the stadium. “Sucks that they’re not going to have a manager after this weekend. Training someone new will be such a bitch.”
“What about Eric Johnson?”
Anabelle waves off my question. “Rex Gunderson will make sure he goes down with his sinking ship, don’t you think? Like a rat. Guys like him always take down their friends—he’ll be clinging to him like a life preserver. Besides, they’re roommates. It’s inevitable.”
I agree. “For sure.”
We enter the building through the athlete entrance, flashing the badges Coach Donnelly gave Anabelle to give us special privileges while we’re here. No lines, no crowd, no noise.
Not until we get to the arena.
It’s a packed house, but our seats are down by the floor, and there is no way her father is going to miss this neon sign. In fact, there is no way anyone will miss it—not Donnelly, not Gunderson, not Johnson.
And the gang is all here.
Anabelle waits.
Waits through the entire meet, until the last man has been pinned and the wrestlers are on their knees, tipping back water, listening to their last lecture before heading into the locker rooms.
The sign is neon pink with glitter-covered letters, a blazing beacon in a room full of black and yellow that catches Coach Donnelly’s eye almost immediately when she holds it above her head. Rocks back and forth on her heels, the glitter catching the light in just the right way to make the letters shine.