Page 9

WILLOW

“ Y our organizational system stresses me out just looking at it.”

I look up to find my friend Ari Lennon standing inches away from me, surveying the mess I’ve surrounded myself with. I like to call it organized chaos, if you will. I shrug, grab a peach ring candy, and toss it into my mouth.

“It’s a system ,” I throw back at her, nudging some books I took out from the library for research purposes with my elbow. Of course it only makes them wobble more. “A very specific, highly personal system.”

Ari snorts. “Right. Personal. Like how your coffee order is personally designed to give the baristas at Brewed Beginnings an aneurysm.” She plucks a stray sticky note off my monitor, squinting at my scrawl. “Is this a reminder to breathe or bleed?”

“Depends on the day,” I mutter, snatching it back and sticking it where it belongs.

She shakes her head before she pulls out a granola bar. “Here.” She presses it into my palm. “Figured you’d forget breakfast. Again.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, already ripping into the wrapper. It’s one of those fancy ones with flax seeds and goji berries, the kind my mom would approve of. Ari knows my fuel preferences lean more toward vending machine chic, but she tries. “And for the record, my coffee order is an art form.”

“It’s a cry for help, Wills.” She settles into the chair beside mine and pulls out her things neatly.

She usually keeps her area clean and now is no different.

When she’s done setting up, the only things in front of her are a sleek laptop, a notebook, and her pen.

Speaking of, even her pen sits at a precise ninety-degree angle.

Sometimes I think we were paired as friends by the universe because it has a wicked sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, waving her off before rolling my eyes. I take another bite of the granola bar and realize it’s actually not that bad.

"What's on the docket for you today?" Ari asks, logging into her laptop. "Besides drowning in sticky notes and pretending those library books aren't three days overdue."

"They're not—" I start, then glance at the date stamp. "Shit."

"Told you." She doesn't even look up, but I can hear the smirk in her voice.

"I'm finishing that piece on the student housing scandal. The administration thinks they can just quietly increase rates by fifteen percent for next year and nobody will notice."

"Until Willow Sanchez noticed and put a spotlight on it. Housing Director Phillips is probably having nightmares about you by now."

I grin at that, savoring both the compliment and another bite of granola. "Good. Maybe he'll think twice before trying to sneak that clause about infrastructure improvements into page seventeen of the budget."

I jump slightly when Kate Alonso's, our editor-in-chief, voice rings out before Ari can respond. "Alright, everyone, gather 'round for assignments!"

I quickly brush granola crumbs from my shirt and swivel my chair toward the center of the room where Kate stands with her phone at the ready.

She's wearing her signature blazer-over-graphic-tee combo, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that somehow manages to look both professional and like she didn’t try too hard to be just that damn cool.

"Housing scandal article update, Sanchez?" she asks, eyes already moving down her list.

"Final draft by tonight," I confirm. "Got a quote from the student government president that's basically political dynamite."

Kate nods approvingly. "Perfect. That'll be our lead for Monday." She continues down her list, assigning stories about the food health inspection results and the upcoming poetry slam.

I zone out slightly, my mind already racing ahead to the edits I need to make. I'm startled back to attention when I hear my name again.

"Sanchez, I need you on something new," Kate says. "Senior Night for the hockey team was last week. I want a feature on the team's impact on campus culture, with a focus on our graduating seniors. Reactions from students, staff, that sort of thing."

My stomach drops. "Hockey?" I force out, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Yes, Willow. The sport with the sticks and the ice," Kate says drily. "I need quotes from the seniors. Plus, isn’t your brother on the team? Should be pretty easy."

I can't help the audible groan that escapes my lips. Ari shoots me a quick side-eye because she knows I should have kept my mouth shut.

"Problem?" Kate asks, one eyebrow arched high.

"No, no problem," I say quickly, though every cell in my body is screaming otherwise. "Just, you know, sports. Not exactly my beat."

"It's time you branch out," Kate says, checking something off on her phone.

"But—"

"Besides," Kate continues, steamrolling over my protest, "I need someone who won't just fawn over them. Your critical eye is perfect for this."

I slump in my chair, defeat settling heavy on my shoulders. "Fine. When's the deadline?"

"Thursday. And I want interviews with Levi Jamison, Asher Bennett, Knox Sanchez, Blaise Dalton, and Wilder Blake specifically. They're the big senior stars everyone's talking about. I’m sure the interview with your brother will be special."

Yeah that’s not what makes me panic. My heart stutters at Blaise's name. Of course Kate would single him out. The universe really is determined to torture me today.

"Got it," I mutter, scribbling the assignment on a fresh sticky note while my brain screams in protest.

Kate moves on to the next person, and I turn to find Ari giving me a look that's equal parts sympathy and amusement.

"Don't," I warn, pointing my pen at her.

"I didn't say anything," she whispers, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"You were thinking it very loudly."

Ari leans closer. "Just saying, karma's finally catching up with you for avoiding every hockey game since you got here."

"I went to one last week FYI. Besides, I've been busy," I hiss back. "Actual journalism takes time."

"So busy you couldn't watch your brother play?" Ari whispers, her voice gentle but pointed. "Or is this about something else entirely?"

I glare at her, but there's no real heat behind it. Ari knows me too well. It's both the best and most annoying thing about our friendship.

"It's about professional boundaries and you know how I feel about sports after Leo," I mutter, scribbling Blaise's name on my sticky note with more force than necessary. The pen tears through the paper. Perfect.

"You can't avoid all athletes forever," Ari whispers as Kate continues down her list of assignments. "The campus is crawling with them, and they're not all like Leo."

I crumple the torn sticky note and grab a fresh one, refusing to meet her gaze. "I'm not avoiding all athletes. Just football and hockey players." I pause, then add more quietly, "And one in particular."

Ari leans back in her chair, studying me with those observant eyes that never miss a thing. "It's been, like, three years, Willow."

"Two years," I correct automatically, then wince at how pathetic that sounds. "Not that I'm counting."

"Clearly." Ari's voice is dry, but her expression softens. "Look, you can't let one awkward night?—"

"Can we not?" I interrupt, glancing around to make sure no one's listening. "Not here."

The memory of that night flashes in my mind. The taste of cheap beer and jungle juice, Blaise's jersey brushing against my skin, the warmth of his lips on mine, and then the rejection that followed. My face grows hot just thinking about it.

"Fine," Ari relents. "But this assignment might be good for you. Closure and all that."

I snort. "I don't need closure. I need a time machine so I can go back and tell Past Willow not to make an absolute fool of herself."

"Past Willow was drunk and honest. Current Willow is just in denial."

"Current Willow is trying to maintain her professional dignity," I counter, scribbling down the rest of the hockey players' names. "And survive this assignment without dying from embarrassment."

"Hey, I'm just saying, this could be good for you," Ari whispers, leaning closer so no one else can hear. "Confronting the awkward thing head-on instead of diving behind potted plants every time you see him on campus."

"That was one time," I protest, "and it was a large decorative bench, not a plant."

"And the time you pretended to be fascinated by the fire evacuation map when he walked into Brewed Beginnings?"

"I was...concerned about safety protocols."

"For seven minutes?"

I glare at her, but there's no heat behind it. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side. That's why I'm telling you to face this thing instead of letting it haunt you for the rest of your college career.

" She reaches over and taps the sticky note where Blaise's name stands out like a neon sign.

"Besides, it's just an interview. You ask questions, he answers, you write it up, everyone moves on with their lives. "

"I mean he’s graduating this year, so it would only be for the rest of his college career.”

“Wills—”

“Right." I nod, trying to convince myself as much as her. "Professional. Detached. I interview people I don't like all the time."

"You don't dislike Blaise," Ari counters my statement. "That's the whole problem."

I open my mouth to argue, but the truth in her words stings too much. Damn Ari for knowing me better than I know myself sometimes.

"Whatever," I mumble, focusing intently on rewriting my notes. "The point is, I can handle this. It's just another assignment."

"Of course you can," Ari says, her tone softening. "And I'll help you prepare questions if you want."

Kate claps her hands, bringing our whispered conversation to an abrupt halt. "That's it for assignments. Remember your deadlines and let me know if you need anything."

As the group disperses, I stare at the names on my sticky note. Five hockey players. Five interviews. One massive headache waiting to happen.