Page 87 of The Fake
“Holy shit, Chloe. What is that?”
Unfortunately, her outburst catches the attention of everyone around us, including Coach.
“I…” Words fail me. I don’t understand, and there’s ringing in my ears like someone knocked me over the head with a barbell.
I register Coach’s harsh voice telling everyone to get out, but I can’t manage to move or look at anyone.
29
Nathan
We’ve gotlate afternoon practice today, so Joel and Wes are over and we’re hanging outside by the pool enjoying the day.
“Zeke’s got his first home game in a few weeks. I talked Coach into giving us the day off practice. You guys in?” Wes asks.
Joel lifts his bottle of water. “Nice. You being the assistant coach is finally paying off, Dubya.”
“I hate when you call me that.”
“I know. That’s why I do it.” Joel smirks. “Dubya.”
I pat my pockets for my phone. “Shit, I left my phone upstairs.” I stand to go get it and the guys chuckle and yell after me. Something about being pussy-whipped, yadda, yadda. I don’t let it get to me because, hello, pot meet kettle. Those two are the most whipped guys I know.
I take the stairs two at a time. Chloe should be done soon and headed back to Valley. They’ll get in tonight around the same time we’re done with practice, and I’m looking forward to seeing her. Twenty-four hours and I’m totally jonesing for some time with my girl. Yeah, okay, so I’m pussy-whipped. I’m not mad about it.
I’ve got a dozen new texts, but I skip them all and pull up Chloe’s name. She hasn’t responded since my good luck text this morning, but I go ahead and send another as I head back downstairs. I let her know what time I’ll be back to the house and that I’m excited to see her. We’ve already talked about it so it’s not really necessary, but damn, I just want an excuse to text her.
I take my seat outside and start scrolling through the other messages. Wes and Joel are talking about the team, so I tune them out as I read my missed texts. Heath sent me a picture of the NMU ice and locker rooms. Visit went well and I think he’s getting excited about the prospect of playing in college.
Gabby sent me color schemes, which I ignore because I gotta draw the line somewhere on helping her with wedding plans.
The last text is from Frank. I open it, prepared for another job offer, but when I read it my stomach drops.
Frank: Get the book? No pressure, not expecting anything in return, I just wanted you to know I miss having you.
Confusion turns to unease as I read the message over and over. I’m in my room tearing it apart before I even realize I’ve moved from my seat outside.
“Dude, you alright?” Joel asks from the doorway. “You turned all pale and looked like you were about to puke before you raced up here.”
“Have you seen a textbook?” I pull at my hair when they both stare back at me with puzzled expressions. A cold sweat breaks out over my entire body. “Frank. The textbooks. Have you seen any?”
Wes groans and then grits out, “You said you were done.”
“I am.” I turn in circles, but I don’t see it anywhere. “Fuck, I am. I can’t explain right now.”
I give the downstairs the same treatment but don’t find anything.
With no answers in sight, I call Frank… something I swore I’d never do again. It’s not like I hate the guy, he gave me a job when I needed one and he was cool when I told him I was done, but he represents a whole part of my life I’m not proud of and would prefer not to ever think about again.
“Hey,” Frank greets me cheerily.
I don’t waste any time on niceties. “What book? Where did you leave it?” Mentally, I’m already thinking of everywhere he might think to put it for me, and I’m really hoping he doesn’t say the locker room. Goodbye scholarship, goodbye basketball, goodbye Valley.
“I gave it to your girl.”
Life as I know it flashes in front of me. Shame and regret make my knees buckle, and I lean against the nearest wall.
“Chloe,” he says her name, confirming my worst nightmare. “I saw her at TKE on Thursday night as she was getting in an Uber to go to your place. She didn’t give it to you?”
