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Some say? What the actual fuck? Who has she been talking to? Did someone start a “Camdyn’s Personal Drama” newsletter that I don’t know about?
To be honest, I knew she’d ask this question. Rumors about Jaxon and me started immediately following the loss when nobody saw us together at school the next week.
She’d done her research, hadn’t she?
My stomach does this weird flip-flop thing that makes me wonder if I’m going to throw up right here on her perfectly arranged notebook.
Nausea hits me in waves. Reaching for the water bottle on the table, I shrug. “Well, that’s my personal life, but yes, I had been dealing with some things off the field that I’m not comfortable discussing here.” My voice only shakes a little. Progress.
Inez tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear and adjusts the frame of her glasses once more. “Did those same distractions follow you into this season?”
If you’re talking about that annoying little baseball player, yes. He’s still haunting me. Like a really attractive ghost who won’t stop living rent-free in my head.
“No,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. “I’ve learned through the help of our coaching staff here to block it out and leave my personal life off the field.”
Ha. What bullshit. I haven’t learned a damn thing.
I don’t think she believes I’m lying, but by the curiosity in her eyes, she wonders if I’m leaving something out. She draws in a breath, as if this next question is one she’s been avoiding as well. That’s when I know where it’s heading. My heart’s doing this weird tap-dance routine that definitely isn’t in rhythm.
“What’s your relationship with Jaxon Ryan? Did your performance last year have anything to do with him?”
Do you notice the way my heart stops and the flood of adrenaline rushing through me? Because I sure do. It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water down my back while simultaneously setting my face on fire.
I’m so tempted to get up and walk out. I really want to now. “I’d prefer not to talk about my relationship with him.” Or lack thereof. Or whatever the hell we are now.
“What are your goals this year?”
I pause again and think about everything I’ve worked on during the off-season. Mentally and physically. Like how to breathe without hyperventilating when someone mentions Jaxon’s name. “There’s not a single day since I walked off thatfield in Oklahoma that I haven’t had a ball in my hand, working on some aspect of the game. I think going into this season was all about mindset and trusting the process. Believing that my hard work got me here and will continue to earn me a spot in the circle, and it’s up to me to build on that.”
Inez nods once more, her hand moving over the paper as she dictates my words into her version of what I’m saying. I know how this works, and though most of what I say is quoted, there are times when it’s taken out of context. My anxiety is screaming at me to grab her notebook and check what she’s writing, but I manage to resist. Barely.
I think Inez is going to get up and I'll be interviewed by the next person, but she doesn’t move. She stares at me with a confused expression and leans into the table as she turns off the recorder. “Can I ask you something off the record?”
My heart beats faster. Shit. She’s going to ask about Jaxon. I lift my eyes to Brynn, who is not paying any attention to me, and then back to Inez. Thanks for the backup, Baddie Brynn.
“Sure.” Why did I say sure? What is wrong with me?
Inez leans in closer and tucks another non-existent loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Sooo, um, I know you don't want to talk about your relationship with him, but Brynn said you used to date Jax?”
It feels as though a damn bullet hits my chest when she says Jaxon’s name on a more personal level. Jax. As if she knows him so well. My lungs forget how breathing works for a solid five seconds. I’m pretty sure my soul left my body, looked around, and decided “nope, not dealing with this today.”
I do not want to answer anything about my relationship with him, but I can't get past the words “used to.” Past tense. And I guess, yes, we are past tense, but the term makes it sound like we have no relationship now. And to be honest, I don't know whatwe are either. Complicated? A mess? A dumpster fire of feelings? All of the above?
“Um, yeah.” I sigh, the awkwardness getting stronger. I’m fighting the overwhelming urge to run out of this building and burst into tears. Or maybe crawl under the table and pretend I’m invisible. Worked when I was five at the dentist, could be a valid option now. “We did in high school.” My words shake with my answer and anyone who knows me would see how uncomfortable I am right now, but this girl doesn’t know me at all. I leave out that we dated up until the World Series last year. Because why make this conversation more painful than it already is?
“Oh, okay.” Her eyes light up as though she thinks I’m his best friend and will give her details about him. “Can I ask you about him?”
What the hell? She wants to keep chatting. I look at Brynn once more, but she’s occupied with one of the other guys interviewing our team. Judging by her pink cheeks and weird, overly happy smile, she’s not going to help me out. She’s probably asking for that dude’s Snap or thinking about mailing her sliding shorts to him as a surprise.
A good part of me wants to tell Inez no. I don’t want to talk about Jaxon or our relationship. Another part is curious what she’s going to ask me. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. You know you should look away, or do something to stop it, but you can’t. Nervously, I play with the ends of my hair. “I guess so.” My voice comes out sounding like I’m being strangled by my own anxiety.
Relief washes over her as she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Okay, good.” She scoots closer to the table, as if that’s even possible because her tits are so smashed to it now I’m surprised she’s not in pain. Her notebook is tucked close to her chest as she holds her phone in her other hand.
I’m not gonna lie. There’s a part of me that wants to take her phone and read every single text message between her and Jax, but then I’ll probably start crying. Or throw up. Or both. Probably both.
“So, like, we’ve been kinda seeing each other and talking.”
I’ll admit, I have some strong intrusive thoughts right about now. They’re screaming: Take her phone and break it. Block his number. Delete his contact info. Erase him from her memory. Call Astro and have her cast a spell. Maybe move to Antarctica with those penguins I researched earlier.