Page 16

First, I doodle. Then, I tap my pen against my notebook. Next, I shift in my seat. My mind is too distracted to focus on homework, so I don’t even bother.

The class was supposed to start five minutes ago, but there’s still no sign of the professor. Usually, I’d scroll aimlessly on my phone, but even that lost its appeal a while ago. Pia’s text—the one reminding me it’s been four days, and I still haven’t updated her on the party—remains unanswered.

There’s a reason I haven’t responded. A whole six-foot-something reason. I already know Pia will only encourage whatever this is. Her whole not everything has to mean something spiel is partly to blame for what happened over the weekend.

God, what was I thinking? Coming on to him like that and practically begging him to sleep with me. It was partly a lack of inhibition, thanks to the alcohol, but that wasn’t the only reason.

I was just so tired of pretending that I didn’t want him. Logic went out the window, and giving in felt far too easy.

The memory of how I reacted when Levi put his finger in my mouth has me smothering a groan of mortification.

I know why he didn’t take things further. He thought I wouldn’t remember because of the alcohol, but he was wrong. When we got back to my apartment, I was barely tipsy. I wanted him, and the fact that he was the one to end things? That stung. Rejection, no matter the reason, still sucks.

However, now that my head is clear and I’m fully hydrated, my resolve is firmly back in place. My common sense has returned, and I need to hold on to it. Moving forward, the best thing to do is to avoid Levi and pretend nothing happened. I should forget about hi—

“Don’t get too excited. Class isn’t canceled.” Professor Blackwell announces.

Her wide, loose-legged pants swish behind her as she picks up speed. When she reaches the wooden podium at the center of the room, she plants her hands on either side and leans into her forearms.

“Apologies for the delay. I had to attend to an emergency, but we’ll proceed with today’s lesson as planned.” She scans the room. “Before we start, let me remind you that The Science of Human Movement is an elective class. As in, you chose to be here, right?”

When everyone nods at her question, she carries on.

“Good. Keep that in mind when I tell you about your upcoming assignment, which will make up eighty percent of your grade this semester.”

Professor Blackwell moves in front of the podium, leaning back against it. She crosses her arms and then her ankles, one over the other.

“Movement of the human body, " she begins, and I flip my notebook to a page not covered in anxious doodles.

“In simple terms, it’s how we move. For example, which muscles do you use when picking up a fork? Or—” She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Texting during class, Mr. Evans.”

Someone mumbles a muffled apology behind me, and the chatter and snickers in the room pickup.

Professor Blackwell claps her hands, the bracelets on her arms jingling with the movement. Only once the noise quiets down does she continue.

“Observing how the human body moves is far more interesting than hearing me go on about it.” She says. “This is why I created this project last year. And seeing as it’s been so successful, I decided to keep it going.”

“At a school like Huska, there’s no shortage of sports teams. Although this is an individual project, two of you will be assigned to a team. You’ll each pick one athlete to observe and write a full report on.” Professor Blackwell glances at us over the rim of her glasses.

“Coaches are aware you’ll be there, but please, do not let anyone come back to me saying one of my students is a distraction. Understood?” Her eyes narrow as she waits for us to acknowledge her words with mumbled agreements and nods.

“How many practices or games you attend is up to you, but you need enough information to fill the report and help draw plausible conclusions.”

My handwriting gets sloppier the more she talks as I try to keep up. I’ve just put a period at the end of my last sentence when she starts the next.

“So, what exactly are you reporting on? To break it down, you’re observing how these athletes move and which muscles they’re using. Do they have pre-existing injuries that could hinder their performance? Which muscles are being overexerted and could lead to injury? Etcetera.”

“Your chosen team member is your test subject. Talk to them about any muscle fatigue they may be experiencing, watch them at games, and learn their workout routines. Remember, there’s more to being an athlete than just showing up for the main event.”

Professor Blackwell pushes off the podium, picks up a small remote, and points it at the projector screen. An Excel sheet with our names pops up.

With her back still to us, she says, “Let’s get to the part of who’s going where.

And let me make this clear right now. I used a random generator tool to split everyone up, so don’t come to me after class asking to switch because your boyfriend or girlfriend is on a certain team.

” Her tone is sharp, leaving no room for argument, as she clicks on the first group, enlarging the text.

“Group one, you’re with the girls’ basketball team…”

I zone out as she continues calling out groups, too focused on tidying up my notes to listen. When she finally reaches my group, I recap my highlighter and sit up straighter.

“Group five, you’re with the swim team.”

Swim team? I didn’t even know Huska had a swimming pool, let alone a swim team.

A sense of dread fills me when I think about what she said regarding attending practices. I don’t know much about competitive swimming, but I do know that they usually train early in the morning.

And if this is eighty percent of my grade, I have no choice but to suck it up., then I have little choice but to suck it up.

“Okay, that’s everyone.” Professor Blackwell powers down the projector and turns to face us again.

“Three things. One, you’ll have a personal check-in with me every two to three weeks to ensure you don’t fall behind, which is easy to do when a deadline is three months away.

Two, log onto the school website with your ID to access any team’s training schedule.

And three, I’ll send an email after class outlining all the specific requirements. ”

***

When lunch rolls around, I’m the first to arrive at Kneadful, a quaint bagel cafe near campus where the girls and I are meeting.

With the extra time, I log onto the school’s website. My fear is confirmed when I find the team’s training schedule. They have early morning practices Monday through Thursday in the Natatorium.

A quick Google search reveals that a natatorium is a room that houses an indoor swimming pool. Huh. Who would’ve thought it wasn’t just called an indoor pool? They also have dry-land training in the afternoon, which I assume means training outside the water.

Both Friday and Saturday have an asterisk. I scroll down to the footnote, which explains that training hours vary on those days depending on upcoming swim meets.

Since tomorrow is Thursday, I have to show up to morning practice to make sure they’re there. There’s no mention of who’s on the team, so I’m going in blind. Hopefully, the girl I pick ends up being friendly.

The sound of my name pulls my attention from the screen. Elsie and Macy wave me over, so I close my laptop and join them in line. Although the place is significantly busier, the line moves quickly, and we’re back at our table with food and drinks in no time.

Elsie moans as she takes a bite of her bagel. “Mm…so good.”

“Are you eating a bagel or having an orgasm?” Macy snorts as she unwraps hers.

“Don’t judge me. I’ve been dreaming of this bagel for most of the summer while I was away.” Elise wrinkles her nose and goes to take another bite.

“Where’d you go?” I ask her, swallowing the bit I took, which practically melts on my tongue.

“North Carolina to visit my grandparents on my mom’s side. And let me tell you, people are onto something about that southern charm.” She fans herself with her free hand, making me giggle.

“Sounds like we should join you next time,” Macy says, smiling behind her water bottle as she brings it to her lips.

“Yes! Girl’s trip! Tell your brother he can’t come.”

“What did Hayden do now?” Macy sighs, setting her water down. “He lives in the same building as Elsie,” she adds for my sake.

“And you don’t?” I ask.

“Not yet, but I plan on moving out in a few months. I'm just waiting for something to become available.”

“You might want to start looking at other buildings, too,” Elsie says. “You know how competitive these student apartments can get.”

“I am. As soon as something opens up, wherever that may be, I’m putting in my application.” Macy fiddles with the wrapper around her bagel. “Now, let’s hear about what my brother did.”

Elsie sets her food down and folds her hands on the table.

“Okay, so I’ve barely cracked my eyes open on Sunday morning when he rings the doorbell with a green smoothie.

And then he’s all, ‘I told you so, now drink this smoothie. It’ll help your hangover’ .

” She tries to imitate him, dropping her voice into a deep tone that’s probably nowhere near accurate.

“I swear, Macy, if you guys weren’t twins, there’s no way I’d believe you came out of the same womb. ”

“Why? Because he’s smart, and I’m—” Before she even finishes, Elsie interrupts.

“No! I mean, yes, he’s super smart. Hello, he studies engineering, but more like you’re easy-going, and he’s Mr. Serious,” Elsie replies, rolling her eyes.

“Backing up for a second. You’re upset because he checked in on you and brought you a smoothie.” I chime in.

“Yes, no, ugh, I don’t know. He’s always making me feel bad for doing things that might not have the best consequences.”

“I can talk to him,” Macy offers.

“No, don’t. He’s your brother. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Wait, so are you two just friends or is there something going on?” I ask, not wanting to assume.

“God, no! We’re only friends,” Elsie says. “He’s Macy’s brother .”

“Like I’d care if you were more than that.” Macy shrugs like the idea of her brother and Elsie together doesn’t faze her. “But I know he gets on your nerves more than anything.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Elsie mutters before her attention shifts to me. Her smile grows. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about Bear.”

“What about me?” I ask, rolling my bagel wrapper into a small ball.

“Let’s not pretend you didn’t go home with a certain hottie on Saturday night.” She wiggles her brows.

“Oh yes, spill on the whole Levi thing.” Macy chimes in, her eyes gleaming.

“There’s not much to say. Nothing happened.” I reply. “He dropped me off and went home.”

That’s how the beginning and end went, anyway. The middle, however, is something entirely too embarrassing to admit. So, I keep my mouth shut about it.

“That sucks.” Elsie frowns, clearly disappointed I don’t have any juicy details.

“I’m surprised because the chemistry between you two on the dance floor was sizzling.”

Heat spreads over my cheeks, and my eyes snap up to Macy. “You saw that?”

“Yeah, I think everyone around you did.” She laughs, then pats my hand when she sees my expression. “Don’t be embarrassed, it was hot.”

“Well, chemistry or not, he knew I had too much to drink, so he made it clear nothing would happen.” I shrug, the sting of rejection hitting me again.

“Really? Interesting.” Elsie muses. “Maybe the rumors are true after all.”

“What rumors?” Macy and I say at the same time.

“Well, fine, not rumors,” Elsie says sheepishly. “Just talk among friends. My biology partner, Quincy, and I were chatting because the physiology of a plant isn’t exactly thrilling. Anyway, she had a group project with him freshman year and said he was down-to-earth and sweet for a hot guy.”

I nearly choke on my drink, wincing as I force it down. The words out of Levi’s mouth Saturday night were anything but sweet. And the grip he had on my jaw? Borderline vulgar. But how it made me want him even more has me thinking I might be the problem.

Elsie leans in like she’s about to fill us in on a secret and whispers. “He was even polite to Sadie, who was part of the project.”

“Red-haired Sadie?” I ask, my bagel souring at the memory of how she was all over Levi at Static.

“That’s the one.” Elsie nods. “You know her?”

“Not really, but she has given me a few dirty looks, so I must have done something to piss her off,” I tell them, not particularly caring since I know I did nothing.

“She’s the biggest B-with-an-itch. Just ignore her,” Macy says, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m trying to. What’s been going on with you?” I ask, wanting the attention off me and anything Levi-related.

“Yes, please do share why you made us drink shots, which made us regret our life choices the next morning,” Elsie says, twirling a finger at her.

Macy swats Elsie’s hand away. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could have said no.”

“You know my willpower is zero when peer pressure is involved. And don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not trying to change anything. We were at a party .” Macy says matter-of-factly. “We were there to have fun , remember?”

“You seemed kind of upset,” I say, choosing my words carefully so she doesn’t take it as me calling her out. Which is the last thing I want to do, but I am curious enough to ask.

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Elise presses. “Poor guy you were staring at could have dropped dead with the daggers you were shooting him.”

Macy rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Nothing is up with him.”

“Could have fooled me,” Elsie murmurs under her breath, and Macy shoots her a look that makes me cover my mouth to hide my laugh.

We move on from the topic of boys, and the rest of our lunch date passes quickly. Once we finish eating, we toss our trash and head to the parking lot together, where we say our goodbyes.

I contemplate phoning Pia, suddenly feeling guilty for not replying to her text about the party. When I try her number, it goes to voicemail. A part of me feels relieved, knowing who the topic of conversation was going to revolve around.

That relief is short-lived when she calls back within a few minutes. The car’s Bluetooth picks up the call, and Pia’s voice fills the speakers.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Care Bear...”