Page 21 of The Breakaway

A flicker of something—relief?—crossed his face before he schooled it into indifference. "Thanks." The word came out like a grunt. Like it physically pained him to be polite.

As he brushed by me, a knot formed in my stomach. What if I'd left something embarrassing in there? I mentally scanned my memory of the room from last night. No tampons or panty liners. Hopefully.

Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity. I poured myself coffee now that the pot was full, then grabbed the creamer from the fridge, my stomach churning. When he finally emerged, looking unfairly refreshed, my eye caught on his toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the kitchen counter next to the sink.

A pang of guilt prodded my conscience. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid. Just acknowledge the awkwardness and move on. I eased into it. "Sorry for waking you up so early with that phone call." I took a fortifying gulp of coffee, then forced out the words lodged in my throat. "And, um, also . . . sorry about last night."

My pulse kicked up, and a cold sweat prickled my skin. Anxiety squirmed in my gut like a live eel. Rob stepped forward, and I moved out of the way so he could pour himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter, appraising me over the rim of his mug.

My ears started to buzz. I squirmed on my stool, feeling about as exposed as a nudist at a nunnery. The urge to flee to my room with my half-English muffin and coffee built up until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was halfway off my seat when his voice stopped me cold.

"What happened to make you so afraid?"

I froze, muscles locking up like an engine seized with rust. That was his question? Like a dart hitting a bullseye, my mind landed on the summer I turned thirteen. Dead center. Straight to the heart.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, nothing. Just a bad dream.” I stared at the crumbs scattered across my plate. The weight of his stare bore into me, but mercifully, he didn’t press. I shoveled a bite of muffin into my mouth, the once fluffy bread now dry as sawdust on my tongue.

Desperate to turn the spotlight off of myself, I blurted, "So, you heading home for the holidays?"

A shadow passed over Rob's face. He gave a curt nod. "Yeah. After the invitational."

"Cool, me too." I bobbed my head, feeling like one of those toy-drinking birds. Rising on wobbly legs, I dumped my plate in the sink. “I got your note about the plumber.”

Rob ran a hand over the back of his neck. “They’re going to phone when the part comes in.”

“Okay.” I picked up my mug, blood rushing in my ears. I did not know what to do with this version of him. I was alone, and he’d watched me have a mental breakdown. He was Logan’s friend, after all. I may have misjudged him. A little—a tad.He had to have some redeeming qualities or Logan never would’ve given him the spare room in the first place.

"Well, um, sorry again for the rude awakening. I guess we’re even, hey?" I backed toward my room. "I'll just let you . . . " I made a vague gesture at his rumpled appearance even though the truth was, he could walk out on campus like that, and every girl he passed would do a double take.

Before he could respond, I darted into my bedroom and shut the door, sagging against it with a gusty exhale. Smooth, Sharla. Real smooth.

Chapter

Nine

The next weekflew by in a blur of classes and pre-Christmas concert rehearsals. My violin became an extension of my body as I poured myself into the music. Even though we technically had Monday off for Remembrance Day, the orchestra played at the memorial in the morning, and then I was asked to join a smaller group of musicians to play for a private event and a dinner honouring veterans that evening across town.

I was glad to participate, but adding that to my regular schedule meant I barely had time to think, let alone go grocery shopping or see anyone outside the arts centre. Including Crystal and Maddie.

Logan called three times. Not enough that I got sick of him like he promised. From the sounds of it, they were working him hard. The second time we talked, he was drunk. Sad drunk. All I wanted to do was get on a plane and go to him. To crawl into bed with him and make him feel better. But then yesterday, he’d been his happy normal self.

All the emotional whiplash left me begging for Friday evening until I remembered I couldn’t sit at home with Logan like normal. The weekend before, Rob was gone most of theweekend for an away tournament, and I’d been too busy to enjoy it. I mentally cursed the scheduling gods.

I couldn’t veg at home this weekend, which meant these few days felt more like a prison sentence than a break. At least Crystal, Maddie, and I already had plans to go to the Outlaws game Saturday afternoon. That was something.

I finished up rehearsal and moved through my routine of packing up, then slung my backpack over my shoulders and grabbed the handle of my violin case. I left the building, my boots crunching on the slushy sidewalks.

“Hey, perfect timing!”

I turned my head to find Caleb leaning against the lamp post. He tucked his Gameboy into his backpack and walked toward me.

I laughed. “How did you beat me out of there?” No wonder I hadn’t noticed him when I left.

“I had to meet with my advisor.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And you came back over here because . . . “

“I was looking for you.” He grinned.

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