Coach Friedricks
I have to reread the email at least three more times before it sinks in that I’m on the team. What’s even more surprising? Saint’s the one who got me my spot!
When had he filmed me swimming?
I don’t bother to think about why he did it. I’ve got a pretty good idea, and it’s gross.
Just as I’m finishing my fourth read through of the email, there’s a knock on my door. I frown, because there’s only one person I think it could be, and I told him not to bother visiting tonight. Moving across the room, I open my door, and sure enough, Saint is standing on the other side.
“Hey,” I murmur, gazing up at him and feeling overwhelmed with emotions I can’t really explain.
“Hey,” he replies with a tilt of his chin. “Wanted to stop by and check on you. Make sure Laurel hadn’t killed you with those eye drops.”
Eye drops.
Well that explained the diarrhea.
“How’d you get it out of her she used eye drops on me?”
“Laurel’s not great at keeping things from me,” he explains. He seems … off tonight. He’s not trying to come in, and he’s got his hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets in a way that makes him seem nervous.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning my attention back up to his stormy eyes.
He shakes his head but won’t meet my gaze for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. You seem good too, so I’ll just go—”
“Wait!” I reach out and grab his arm to hold him still. He stares down at my hand, then up into my face. “I-I wanted to thank you for what you did. Emailing the swim coach that video and all. She … she said I’m on the team.”
“Good to hear,” he replies, his voice gruff. “Congrats.”
I lick my lips, baffled by his behavior. “Why’d you do it?”
He knew how much I wanted to make the team. Is it possible he sent the video because he knew how crushed I’d be?
He stares down at me for several moments, then dips his head to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Get some rest, little masochist,” he says, offering no answer to my question. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before I can string together two words to ask him to stay, he’s turned and walking down the hallway, leaving me feeling breathless and more confused than ever.
24
“I’m serious, Mallory. You need to report that shit.”
I shake my head at Loni and sigh. “I’d rather just forget about the whole thing. I still made the team, so it’s not that big of a deal anyway.”
She stares at me with wide eyes. “Not that big of a deal? She poisoned you! You know eye drops can kill you, right?”
I do know, but I also know there’s little point in reporting Laurel to the administration for what she did. They’d probably just give her a pat on the wrist and send her on her way.
“Look, it all worked out, so I don’t want to stretch this whole ordeal out any longer than necessary, okay?” I make my eyes big and stare at her with a puppy dog face.
She arches a brow. “You know that doesn’t work on me, right? I’m a cat person, remember?”
“Well I do now,” I grumble.
She chuckles and I grin as we walk in the campus’ large mailroom. We always check our mail together after lunch, and every once in a while, I’ll get a little something from Carley that makes the little ritual extra special. Loni and I split up long enough to go to our respective mailboxes, and I dial in my combination and open it to find an orange slip of paper. That means I have a package waiting for me in the back.
What did Carley send me this time?
I hurry to the little window and counter where I present my paper to the student worker. They take it and disappear for a moment, only to return with a big, fancy black box with a silver bow wrapped around it.
“Ooh, what’s that?” Loni asks, startling me. She’s snuck up beside me without me realizing it and is bending her head so close to the box, her curls sweep over it.
“No clue,” I murmur. There’s no card to speak of, but maybe it’s inside.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” She claps her hands in excitement and grins like a little kid on their first visit to Chuck E. Cheese. “Let’s go take a peek at what’s inside!”
When we reach my room, I don’t waste any time. Undoing the big bow, I push it to the side and raise the lid off the box. Loni and I both gasp at what we find inside.
It’s a dress.
A gorgeous dress.
A gorgeous purple dress.
“Holy shit, babe,” Loni breaths. “Who the hell sent you this?”
I’ve got a pretty good idea of who. With gentle fingers, I pick up the dress and let it unfold as I take it out of the box. It’s got a short skirt, with a defined bodice, cinched waist, and no straps. I hold it up in front of myself as I turn to the mirror. The skirt is double-layered, and there’s a cute little bow that would rest just below my boobs. It’s cute and elegant without being too flashy, and just the right amount of sexy.
“Ooooooh, I see what this is for,” Loni suddenly says.
I turn, and she’s lifting a matching purple mask from the bottom of the box. She gives me a sly look.
“Someone wants you to look real good for the dance.”
I shake my head. “This is—” I take a deep breath and run my hand through my hair, moving my head to either side again. “This is too much. I’m not even going…”
“Hell no!” Loni cries, pointing her finger at me. “You do not get a beautiful dress and mask as gifts and then not show up to the dance wearing them. That’s just rude!”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics, but a part of me thinks she might be right. It’d be such waste not to wear it.
“Is there a card?” I ask, peeking toward the box. “Who sent me this?”
She digs around in the tissue paper but comes up with nothing. “Some mystery guy, I guess.”
I don’t think it’s so much of a mystery. I’m pretty certain this is from Saint and is just a sneaky, underhanded ploy to get me to go to the dance.
To my own surprise, however, it’s a ploy that just might work.
My day takes another odd twist when I run into Laurel out on campus again. I spot her in the distance, and turn, intent on avoiding her, but she follows after me like some crazed stalker.
“Hey! Mallory! Stop fucking walking!”
I freeze because I’m pretty sure she won’t stop until I do. Slowly, I face her again, and my rage spikes hot and hard as I stare into her eyes.
“What the hell do you want?” I demand. “Here to poison me again?”
Her face is twisted into a scowl. She looks about as happy to be talking to me as I am to be talking to her.
Folding her arms over her big fake boobs, she snaps, “I’m sorry for what I did the other day, okay?”
I’m so shocked, I’m certain I’ve misheard her. There’s no way Laurel would be apologizing to me. No goddamn way.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she sneers. “I’m not saying it again.”