Page 14 of The Save

“Weird, how?” Sharla pushed her hair behind her ears.

“I don’t know? He asked what my last name was, and at first I thought he was just being an ass, but then when he was fixing my car?—”

“He fixed your car?” Crystal’s eyes were wide.

I blew out a breath and started in chronological order. I told them about the brief meeting with Chase in his office, the invitation from my math professor, the first committee meeting that evening, and the excitement with my Rabbit and Chase in the parking lot—all while throwing out answers about our great nation’s history.

“That all happened this week?” Sharla flattened her back against the bench.

“Mostly today.” I sighed. “Here’s the thing. There’s this—I don’t know, this?—”

“Sexual tension?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not that.” She gave me another look, and I scoffed, “I get that Chase is hot, okay? Yes, I find him attractive. What girl wouldn’t? But it’s not that. He’s like—I don’t know, even when he was living with us, there was something—” I stopped mid-sentence.

Our waiter came to the table to collect our answer sheet and handed us a new one as the host announced the next subject. Movie quotes.

I barely noticed. “He’s a puzzle,” I murmured.

“Hm?” Sharla leaned in.

I looked between the two of them. “That’s what it is. Chase has never made sense. He’s a puzzle I can’t figure out, and that doesn’t happen to me.” That’s exactly what it was. He always acted so cool, so collected. He always got what he wanted, and yet he didn’t seem . . . happy. There was something brewing beneath the surface, something stormy behind his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

The host barked out, “You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense: this girl you met? She’s not perfect either.”

I answered robotically, “Good Will Hunting.”

_____

The next day on my lunch break, I sat with Chase in the atrium of the hockey arena. Outside his office. In plain sight on the well-worn industrial couches next to the windows across from the ticket booth.

It turned out he was able to find my email address. "What exactly is a compliance coach?" I asked to break the awkward silence.

Chase tapped his pen against the desk. "I'm a coach. With the responsibility of making sure the players stay compliant."

I gave him a look, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hilarious."

Chase's eyes narrowed with a hint of amusement. "What exactly are you getting at, Maddie?"

"Madelyn."

His lips pinched, and he watched me a moment. Just as my cheeks started to heat, he said, "Did I do something to piss you off?"

Was he really asking that question? Either he was self-absorbed enough to be completely oblivious, or he was dumber than I thought.

"No. I think it was completely reasonable for my math professor to invite me to be on a compliance committee after a week of not hearing a word from you about my offer to tutor the players.”

Chase’s eyes widened a fraction.

I continued, “I guess that's why I'm asking this question. Because I thought a compliance coach would have jumped all over that. It's your job to help your players be successful. I offered help, and you did nothing about it."

"So you're mad I didn't ask you to be on the committee?" He looked at me like I was throwing a temper tantrum.

"No, Coach Wilson. I'm not mad. Just confused."

"So you want an explanation?"

---