Page 9 of Give You Up

“Never?” Her poker face slips, and her expression can only be described as aghast.

I rest back against my chair and stretch out my short legs, and with my hands clasped over my chest, I mutter, “I hate football.”

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry to hear that.”

You would think with all the “oh, dears,” Cindy isolder. She’s not. She is a divorcee in her early thirties. No children. One pet, a corgi. I corgi-sit when Cindy spends the weekends with her grandmother in Alexandria, a city two hours from Dumas.

“What will you do with Primrose—” Primie is what I call her— “if I have to travel with the team?”

That’s my guess. A guess that is giving me hives. They are erupting on my neck, chest, and arms. I rummage in my backpack for the bottle of antihistamines. Finding it, I pop a pill in my mouth and follow it with a big swallow of water from the water bottle I keep in the side pocket.

“Syn, are you okay?”

I nod.

“Is the anxiety coming back?”

Shaking my head, I scratch at the welts. The medication will take effect in thirty minutes. In the meantime, I slow my breathing.

Cindy leans forward in her chair. “Syn?”

“Why the change?” I straighten in my seat. “I’ve mentally psyched myself up for working at the library since last semester ended.”

I jut out my jaw. Cindy is not buying my pity party.

“Syn, you’re a strong person and have come a long way since freshman year. Chin up, girly. Now head on over to practice. It starts in thirty minutes.”

She brings out the campus map and shows me where we are at and where I need to be. I push back my chair, rise, and grab my backpack off the floor.

“When will I see Primie next?”

Brows furrowed, she looks at my backpack. “Did you lose your laptop? Has something happen to your cell phone?”

I pat my backpack. “Both are good. I’m checking to make sure we’re still on. This change is a”—I wear down my bottom lip—“isdisruptive.”

“Of course I’m not changing my mind. You might not be working for me, but we’ll still be friends.”

I sigh in relief. First the coffee incident. Then Taron being nice to me. Now this football gig. I pick up my latte off Cindy’s desk and take a sip. Warm liquid and caramel sweetness fills my mouth. Calm settles over me again.

My nerves steady, I ask my next question. “How will football work with our arrangement?”

Cindy’s face softens. “Syn, the team doesn’t play every weekend, and every game won’t be away games. Why don’t you look at your calendar and text me if you’re open for lunch tomorrow?”

She rises from her chair, walks around her desk, and fussing over her perfect topknot, says in a chipper voice, “It’s your last year of college. Live it up!”

Uh-uh. Not going there. The last time I lived it up, my carelessness took something precious from me. Dare wasn’t around back then. No one was. My pregnancy and miscarriage when I was seventeen is something I’ve never told anyone, including Dare, and he is my best friend.

Cindy corrals me out of her office. Avoiding looking me in the eye, my replacement rushes inside. I’ve seen her around campus. Petit. Thin. Blonde. Nice. A people pleaser. I start walking away as soon as the door closes behind them, but stop the moment I hear the word secret. I step back and press against the wall.

My stomach knots. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Nothing good comes from sticking my nose in other people’s business, but my position, with its cushy schedule, was given away at the last minute to Natalie. How come?

“Thank you for agreeing to the switch.”

“I’m here for you, Natalie. We all are. If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

“Dear, what happened to you is serious.”

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