Page 10 of The Save

“I can't wear that to my meeting."

"You said trivia night."

"Yeah. I have a meeting first, though." I frowned at a floral top I thought I'd thrown out last semester. It made me look like a kindergartner.

"So what you do is . . ." Tash jumped up and walked over to the closet. She grabbed a maroon knit sweater from the shelf and handed it to me. “Layer."

It was excellent advice. As long as the sweater didn't leave threads all over the tank top. I took a lint brush just in case.

I pulled into the university lot with time to spare but zero idea where I was going. The Douglas administration building loomed in front of me. I hadn't thought to ask Kowalski where the meeting was, but the offices were still open for the day. If I was in the wrong place, they'd be able to direct me. I leaned over to see myself in the rearview mirror and swiped on a layer of berry lipstick. Too much? Maybe. I tried not to overthink it.

I tucked the lipstick back in my coat pocket, grabbed my bag, and opened the door. A blast of wind hit me square in the face, and I immediately regretted my shoe choice. Black heels under my bootcut jeans. Cute. Professional. Zero traction. Hopefully I wouldn't have to hike across campus.

I trudged up the walkway, dodging a sandwich wrapper that flung itself at my knee like a tiny paper ghost.

I burst through the doors and took a moment to compose myself in the airlock, then stepped inside. I walked up to the front desk, trying to ignore that the sharp click of my heels on the tile echoed through the entire atrium.

I smiled at the receptionist. “Hi, I’m here for the committee meeting?” I winced at the vagueness of that description. This was a university. They probably had more than a handful of committee meetings happening every afternoon.

“Madelyn Taylor?” She gave me a questioning look. When I nodded, she pointed me toward a sign that read,Meeting Rooms A–D.“You’ll be in C.”

I thanked her, then walked past the desk and down the hall. I’d never been past the entry of the admin building, and it felt strange. Privileged. Like I was seeing behind the scenes at Disney World.

I didn’t have to do any sleuthing to find the room because Professor Kowalksi was standing at the end of the hall with a woman I didn’t recognize. She had jet black hair that grazed her shoulders and an easy smile that made me wonder if she taught poetry or drama.

Kowalski introduced me—she was the Dean of Business, which made me internally promise that I would never make snap judgments about anyone again.

A promise which I immediately broke. Because as I walked into the room, after noticing that the walls were the colour of manila folders and there was a long, rectangular table thatlooked like it had been repurposed from a church basement, my eyes landed on a familiar figure.

He was at the far end of the table, seated sideways with one arm draped across the back of his chair, talking with someone. Chase looked up mid-sentence and froze, two lines forming between his brows.

He hadn’t known I was coming. No, more than that. He had no idea it was a possibility that I would come. Which meant he hadn’t been the little bird that talked with Kowalski. He hadn’t emailed me, and he clearly hadn’t done a damn thing to move forward with my tutoring offer.

Judgment snapped into place faster than a slapshot off the tape—clean, fast, and final. I didn’t know anything about Chase Wilson. And I no longer wanted to.

Chapter

Five

Chase blinked once,then leaned back in his chair like nothing about my arrival rattled him, but it was too late. I’d already seen the evidence.

A man near the whiteboard turned around. “Ah, Madelyn Taylor, correct?”

I nodded, clutching the strap of my bag.

“Glad you could join us,” he said warmly. “We were just getting started. I’m Dr. Howard Lamont. Vice Dean of Student Affairs. Thank you for coming in.”

He gestured to a chair next to Chase as the others filtered into the room. Fantastic.

“Hey, Maddie?—”

“Madelyn,” I snapped before Chase could get the rest of that statement out. If he didn’t want to remember anything? Fine. I could play that game, too.

I kept my body turned away from him as Dr. Lamont facilitated introductions. There were seven of us in total. Dr. Lamont, who looked a little like a youth pastor; Professor Kowalski; and Marcia Toews, a student support specialist with a high ponytail, very pink nails, and a soft smile. Then there wasCoach Bryan from the women’s volleyball team, who sat flipping his pen between his fingers; April Martin, the Dean of Business, whom I’d met in the hall; and Chase, who, even in my peripheral vision, looked irritatingly attractive in an Outlaws quarter-zip.

Dr. Lamont cleared his throat. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s start with the basics. This committee was formed in response to a growing concern from the registrar’s office. Specifically, student-athletes falling short academically and the lack of sustainable structures to help them recover before it’s too late.”

Marcia nodded. “We’ve seen an increase in mid-season academic suspensions, especially among first- and second-year players.”

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