Page 119 of Game On
Mid-routine, there’s some noise from a flier in the back, but I’m too focused on my own performance to let it affect me. We push through, hitting our marks with precision. And when we execute the pyramid, the energy seems to surge with us.
The routine ends, and we gather back together offstage, breathless but exhilarated. The coaches and the rest of our squad members rush to congratulate us. And that’s when I hear Coach Morgan’s voice, slightly raised, comforting a crying Cove.
“It was a minor bobble, honey,” she reassures her. “Such a small deduction, hardly anyone will have noticed. We can clean it up and make it perfect tomorrow. Don’t let it get to you.”
Cove nods, tears glistening in her eyes, but she manages a brave smile. “Thanks, Coach. I won’t let you down.”
“You’ve never let me down,” Coach Morgan says firmly. “Now, let’s focus on what’s ahead. You all did great out there.” She raises her voice, rallying the squad. “Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow the game is on, and we’re going to be winners, no matter what happens. Don’t focus on how good Wyler State is. Keep your eyes on your own prize.”
She’s right. There’s no use beating ourselves up before tomorrow. The only thing we’re in control of is our own performance, and you can be damn sure we’re gonna give it our all. Whitland’s got this, I think, and if not, well, at least we’ll go down fighting.
I need to find a way to politely ask Malik, my roommate for the weekend, to get the hell out of here.
I have to talk to Ella as soon as possible. The goal was to wait until after finals for this conversation, but her ex threw a wrench in that plan. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, if he hadn’t said what he did, I could have held this off for one more day.
But Ella and I have been taking turns putting off the inevitable, and it’s time we face it head-on. Championships be damned.
I clear my throat, prepping to ask him, when there’s a knock at our door. Malik answers. It’s a man from room service standing there with a note in his hand. “Special request from Room 213,” he says as he passes it over.
Malik takes the note, thanks him, and then quietly shutsthe door. I stand there as he reads the first few lines. His eyes go wide, a grin lighting up his face before he turns back to me. “I think this is for you, man.”
I rush to grab it, fumbling slightly. Ella’s neat handwriting staring back at me:We need to talk. Meet me on the rooftop?
My pulse pounds as I grab my coat, heading for the door without bothering to explain.
“Good luck, I guess,” Malik calls out from behind me.
I hurry to the elevator and punch the button to the top floor. When the doors finally open, I step out into the humid night air.
Ella’s standing there, her back to me, looking out over the beach. Our hotel is close enough to the shore that you can hear the waves crashing, see the sparkling lights of the distant pier. I would say nothing beats the view from up here, but that would be a lie when Ella’s right in front of me.
My stomach does a double flip as I walk toward her. “Hey,” I say softly. “You know the words ‘we need to talk’ are enough to give any man heart palpitations, right?”
She turns to look at me, her expression warm, vaguely reassuring. “I figured that’s why you got here so fast.” Her eyes flicker down to the note still in my hand. She steps closer and slides a palm over my chest. “You can stop overworking yourself now,” she says, as if speaking directly to my heart. “Everything will be fine.”
I work through a heavy swallow as her hand drops back to her side. To our right, there’s an outdoor couch with a coupleof throw pillows scattered on it. I gesture toward it. “Should we sit?” I ask, still cautious.
She nods, and then leads the way. As she walks, her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, catching the rooftop lights. A gorgeous halo of caramel and rich chestnut. A vision that leaves me breathless.
We sit side by side, thighs touching, unspoken words lingering between us. “Do you want to start?” she asks. “Or should I?”
“I’ll start,” I murmur, tentatively placing a hand on her thigh. She glances down at my hand, then up into my eyes, a soft smile forming on her lips. “I’m sorry for keeping the acceptance letter from you. I want you to know that I didn’t hide it because of what you said before … because I already had ‘one foot out the door.’ It’s the opposite, actually. I desperately wanted to find a way to stay in it—inthis—with you.”
She reaches for my hand, her fingers warm against mine. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”
“You know me too well.” I softly exhale. “I didn’t tell you, because I was scared. Not of staying or leaving, of being with you or being apart. But more so, of not being the guy that you deserve … no matter what choice I make. That maybe I am just some fatherless hick who can never measure up.”
She squeezes my hand tighter. “Is that what Jamie said to you?”
“Among other things. There was also some bullshit about my dad he found on the Internet.” I glance up at the sky, jawtight. “He called me a piece of shit. Said I was nothing more than a charity case on the field, that you—” My voice sounds rough, and I have to swallow hard before continuing. “That you would always choose him in the end, because he’s what you deserve.”
Ella’s eyes flash with anger, and she’s immediately on her feet, pacing in front of me with long strides. “I’ll kill him,” she finally says, wringing her hands together.
I snort a laugh. “Look, El, it’s not that I believed you’d actually go back to the asshole. It’s just … I’ll admit that some of his bullshit got under my skin. But it’s nothing I haven’t thought about myself before.”
“None of it is true.” She whirls back to face me, her hazel eyes fierce and unyielding. “None of it. You are enough. You are more than enough for me, or for anyone. And I don’t care if you go to Oxford, or one of the other nine schools you’ll be accepted into.”
I gulp low in my throat. “El—”
