Page 102 of Game On
As we pack up our gear, Hudson and I are buzzing withexcitement. We’ve put our all into this, and it feels good to see it pay off. But as we head out of the gym, we run into Claire and Evan, who are just coming in to film their own video.
“Good luck,” I say to Claire, offering her a genuine smile. She walks right past me without so much as a glance, her snub deliberate and icy. I’ve got used to her cold shoulder over the past seven months, but it still stings.
Hudson notices and squeezes my hand. “Don’t let her get to you.”
“I’m trying,” I say, frustration bubbling up. “But she’s been like this with me since day one. I don’t get it.”
“She’s competitive.”
“So am I,” I mutter. “But it seems like more than that.”
His brow furrows slightly. As we walk to the car park, he rubs the back of his neck, his steps slower and more deliberate. “Did you know that Levi and Claire used to be best friends?”
My jaw nearly drops. “You’re kidding.”
“I know,” he says, eyes narrowing. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? Levi said she’s always been a bit aloof, but she’s only grown colder since coming to Whitland. I think he might know why, but he’s never shared it with me.”
My head tilts. “He seems like a good friend.”
“One of the best.” He curves a hand around my waist, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, I think that’s just how she is. I don’t know her all that well myself, but it seems she keeps people at arm’s length on purpose.”
“I understand being a little cold, but I guess it’s just hard not to take it personally. I still have to spend the entire springterm with her, including our competition season. Plus, the other girls are friendly with her. It stings that she won’t even give me the time of day. Especially when I haven’t done anything to warrant it.”
“I get that.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “But try to focus on what you can control. You’re here to do your best, and you’re doing that. Don’t let her affect your confidence.”
“I’ll try,” I say, appreciating his support.
We reach his truck, and he swings the door open for me. I slide into the passenger seat, sinking into the worn leather. He takes his time walking around, lost in thought, before slipping in behind the wheel and switching on the engine.
“So, classes start in five days,” he says, pulling out of the car park. “You ready for round two of anthro?”
“We’re sharing another class?”
“It’s a two-parter, Davies. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
“You’re talking about Cultural Landscapes and Human Ecology?” It’s a class I’m taking as part of my study-abroad program, essential for understanding the broader implications of my dissertation. I figured it was a separate course, but apparently it’s part of a year-long journey.
“That would be the one,” he says. “A nice flow from Human Landscapes, isn’t it?”
“Wow.” I bite my bottom lip, slightly embarrassed. “Well, you’ve always been a bit more obsessive about the academic side of things.”
He gives a humorless snort. “Says the Oxford student who clawed her way there.”
I hide a tiny smile. “Whitland is just as challenging in its own way.”
“And you made it here, too. That’s double the prowess.”
I tilt my head, laughing. “Is that a compliment?”
“Oh, I’m done now,” he says. “Just wanted you to know that I can’t wait to sit behind you again.”
“Here’s a novel concept,” I say, nudging him playfully. “Why don’t you just sit beside me this time?”
“Couldn’t possibly,” he says. “It’d be much too distracting for you.”
“Full of yourself,” I grumble.
“Isn’t that why you like me?”
