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Page 54 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

JUNE

LOTS OF HUGS

Most of the people in my life didn’t need to know about my health issues, but my college family weren’t just anyone. I had to tell them.

My new therapist talked about making personal obstacles as physical as possible.

I put up safeguards to make sure I didn’t cancel the dinner last-minute.

I posted how excited I was—a tiny, white lie, I had to watch cartoons in Montoya’s room just to calm down—and I asked Bear to join again.

Before I finished the question, he already said yes.

Twenty minutes before dinner, I waited for him in the living room.

I had to keep relaxing my shoulders. I was more anxious to tell my friends than my own family.

At least my blood family had the playbook.

My parents sent me periodic updates about my room— it’s waiting for you!

— and they blocked the cooking channels, put the ‘one more bite’ magnets on the fridge, and brought out the stack of painfully-dense eating disorder pamphlets that hadn’t been updated since the nineties.

Those were forced upon my siblings as study material, who texted me to complain.

Everything that'd been unhelpful the first time.

I ignored it. My parents loved me.

They were just…so different from Bear.

There were little things he did that changed everything.

We shared food constantly. At Gianna’s, he’d tear a breadstick in half and offer it to me without missing a beat in his conversation with the guys.

Another polaroid appeared under my bed but before I could do anything, Bear tore it to pieces.

Nothing was brought up as a reminder. The cardboard box was all but forgotten.

Bear asked if I wanted him to start adding ingredients, little things like butter to add calories, and I told him no. I needed to know what I was eating because it’d make my progress tangible and there wouldn’t be any trust lost. If I needed that overseeing care, that meant professional help.

There wasn’t a fight. No uncomfortable silence. Bear didn’t rephrase it to get me to concede.

He was so kind and unbelievably patient.

Bear emerged in a dark blue suit jacket. “I know it’s not—uh—it’s not a dress-up occasion, right?” he asked nervously, patting his hair down. “I can change.”

“If you want to, but you look lovely.”

“I—yeah?”

Bear loosened his tie, fumbling with it. He knew how to tie a tie, but I took it from him, threading it through while he was quiet. I’d done it a million times for King, but this was different. My cheeks warmed, while Bear gazed down at me.

“I know how important your friends are to you,” he said. “I know how important this is.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

It was quiet on our walk to Gianna’s . The campus used to feel so lonely during the summer but now it felt like we were in our own world. I was ready as ever to tell them, and I didn’t falter when I saw King’s truck in the parking lot.

“Hey, could I get a minute?” Bear asked, opening the door for me. “I forgot a phone call.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” I wasn’t planning on blurting it out when I sat down anyway.

I went to the hostess’s booth, scanning the restaurant for Cleo, Ryan and Kassie, Adam and Piper, King and now Willow. It used to just be Ryan, Adam, King, and me. Now we needed tables pushed together to accommodate us. They waved when they spotted me, but I hesitated.

What kind of call would Bear leave for?

I held up a finger to show I needed a minute and found Bear by the dumpsters, his back to the wall of the restaurant. He had a notebook, running his finger under the lines. His eyes flashed to mine and he jerked up. “Hey—I was?—”

“What is that?”

“It’s uh—it’s notes—” He held it up, embarrassed. “You have a lot of friends, I don’t want to forget anything.”

My heart squeezed and I leaned against Gianna’s too. “That’s so sweet but I won’t quiz you on this.”

“I want to make sure I do everything I can because—” He tucked the notebook into his jacket’s inner pocket. “What if they don’t like me?”

“What if who doesn’t like you?”

“Your friends.”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“I’m not an easy guy to like, June,” he said, surprised. “I can be a huge dick. I don’t mean to be, it just kind of happens. What if I say something and they don’t like me?”

“That doesn’t matter, Bear.”

“Oh.” His face cleared. “Yeah, you’re right. This is your thing?—”

“No, Bear. That doesn’t matter because I like you.”

Bear fell silent. I didn’t realize how nervous he was. I was so touched that he held my friends’ opinions in such high regard.

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. Always.”

“You’re my favorite person on the team. Even more than Montoya.”

“You’re my favorite person,” Bear said quietly. A beat passed before he cleared his throat. “On the team—hockey—you’re my favorite person connected to the Gladiators.”

“I don’t think they won’t like you,” I said truthfully. “But if some of them don’t, it’s because they haven’t known you long enough. Sure, you have a…thorny exterior but you’re thoughtful and hard-working. I see it. Your teammates see it?—”

“That’s because of you. If you didn’t volunteer me for the captain?—”

“No, Bear. That’s because of you. Your teammates like you because you’re you and you rise to the occasion. That’s who you are. That’s what you do.” I motioned to Gianna’s . “Are you ready to go inside?”

“I’m really proud of you,” he said suddenly.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’m proud of me, too.”

Even if campus was quiet, Gianna’s was still busy, and the hum of the crowd surrounded us while we made our way to the table.

The easy conversation faltered, everyone turning with hopeful faces.

Adam started to say something about being concerned when I left the trip so suddenly and the table shushed him.

Oh.

This was Austin all over again.

I introduced Bear and my friends turned to safe, comfortable topics. They clearly had a conversation beforehand, there was a protective bubble wrap over our words.

“It’s super good to see you,” Piper confessed, squeezing my hands. “We’re doing mani-pedis Thursday if you—if your schedule—” She winced. “Um, if you can?—”

How many plans did I cancel to make the preamble a necessity?

I put my hands in my lap and slowly explained why I’d been so withdrawn since January. The uncomfortable, perfect smiles faded from my friends’ faces as everyone listened with rapt attention. Before I finished, Piper threw her arms over me, and I kept going, brushing away the tears.

My eating disorder was like my breakup with Xavier. It weaseled its way into every facet of my life until I couldn’t separate them. The longer I talked, the more hugs I received, and the more the ice broke at the table. I could breathe again.

When the pizza arrived, I had a concrete goal. One slice and the salad I ordered but when Bear offered half of a breadstick, I took that too—extra credit.

“I’ll never eat anything in front of you ever again,” Adam swore.

A giggle escaped me. “Not how it works, Adam. But thank you anyway.”

Before dinner finished, I had new things for my planner. I’d get lunch with the girls on Wednesday, and we were going mini-golfing on Friday—Bear agreed to tag along. I couldn’t get the time back and that was okay. That didn’t take away from the days ahead of us.

The parking lot meant a lot more hugs and I found King by his truck, watching me, silent.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He wrapped me in another hug. “I don’t get it—why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to take on a problem that wasn’t yours,” I explained. “And I had to be ready to deal with it myself.”

“I thought Beau just took you back home.”

“It’s Bear.”

“Right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t want you to notice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Willow and Bear by the doors, talking to Cleo. If Willow was waiting, I knew she was waiting for King. I drew away from him, taking slow steps back to the others. “I love you,” I whispered to King. “I’m so happy for you.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a familiar ringtone, and I checked it while King smiled at me. “I love you too.”

I had to swallow down every exclamation threatening to spill out and hurried to click the tag, screenshotting it as fast as possible. I yanked my phone down and hugged King again, saying my goodbyes.

Willow left for King’s truck, and I returned to Cleo and Bear. Cleo tried to hug me tight, but I was too busy showing her the screenshot.

Cleo frowned. “Is it another Leelee post?”

“Better.”

Bear glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Look who put it up. Florence Townsend. Riley’s grandmother!”

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