Page 57 of Things I Wish I Said
Chapter thirty-seven
GRAYSON
“Damn, you look good.” I come up behind Ryleigh where she’s been primping in the bathroom mirror for the past thirty minutes.
Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, I admire her reflection. The white dress she’s wearing showcases her athletic frame, clinging to her every curve. The recent sun she’s gotten gives her a sun-kissed look that makes her glow. “There’s only one problem,” I say, mouth mashing into a thin line.
Ryleigh clasps the white-gold hoop in her ear, then stares back at me with a frown. “What?”
“Every guy is going to be looking at you.”
She rolls her eyes and turns in my arms, a grin curving her freshly glossed lips. “Doubtful.”
I release an exasperated sigh, though I think she’s mostly joking; at least, I hope she is. “Have I not told you how fucking incredible you are? And you still don’t believe me? ”
“I mean, I guess you did show me last night.”
I lean into her ear, and whisper, “Twice.” I grin at the rise of goose bumps over her skin. Keeping my hands off her now that we’ve gone there seems to be a Herculean effort. Even this morning, I found myself getting handsy on the gondola ride through the Venice Canals.
Leaning back, I kiss her cheek so as not to mess up her makeup.
She fusses with her wig a bit more, showing her nerves. It’s the first time I’ve seen her wear it without the ball cap, and I know she’s paranoid someone will know.
“You could just ditch it.”
Her gaze shifts back to mine. “No, though I’m starting to think you’re developing a fetish for bald chicks.”
I wink. “Only when said chick is you.”
She laughs and nudges me playfully in the chest.
Ever since her meeting with the Sandy from MaxPreps this morning, she’s been quiet and a little subdued, so it’s nice to hear her laugh.
“You ready?”
“Yeah.” She exhales. “I think so. How have we been here three days already?” she asks with a little shake of the head.
“It’s gone fast.”
Too fast. I like having Ry all to myself, and when we get home, I have only two weeks until I leave for college, and I’m dreading the distance .
“Remind me who all is going to be here tonight,” I say, as she hooks her arm in mine, and we leave the room.
“Well, this is just a meet and greet for all the national nominees, so it’ll be a small group. Maybe twenty-four in total, including dates.”
I ignore the twist of nerves at her answer. For some reason, I’ve been nauseous all day at the prospect of this dinner, and I can’t shake it. “Yet I get the privilege of escorting the winner.”
Ryleigh snorts. “Lucky guy.”
We take the escalators down to the ground floor, then proceed to the banquet room where the dinner is being held.
I scan the room, taking in the glimmer of the chandeliers and the sea of people as we step inside. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and cologne, paired with the low hum of excited chatter.
Four small, round tables with nameplates fill the space, but mostly everyone is still on their feet, mingling and chatting. A bar with refreshments is set up against one wall, while a podium which I assume is meant for the keynote speaker sits center stage.
Immediately, Ry is approached by another girl who introduces herself—a basketball player from Michigan.
They chat for a while as I stand beside Ry, happy to let her take the limelight.
Every person she meets gasps when they discover she’s the national title holder, some of them already recognizing her from her picture on the website .
The next thirty minutes pass quickly with Ryleigh drawing attention from person to person, though I’m not surprised. She’s a shooting star; all you have to do is open your eyes and you’ll find her.
Most of the conversation is simple, focused on Los Angeles and the area, and everything everyone has done since flying into the city for the award ceremonies. How excited they are about tomorrow.
With every interaction, Ry’s confidence grows. She beams as she talks to the male soccer nominee, Sam from Kansas, who checks her out when her head is turned, and accepts when Amanda, a softball player from Florida, invites her for coffee.
Finally, when dinner is announced, everyone takes their seats and conversations slowly shift. It’s no surprise Ry is the center of attention at our table, considering she’s the one receiving the award tomorrow night.
Ryleigh regales them on her most recent season, answering question when asked about the awards she’s won, and her time spent on the women’s national team. All the while, a gnawing doubt starts to creep in, sinking under my skin and turning my stomach.
When the keynote speaker takes the podium, I’m almost relieved. She’s a twenty-four-year-old volleyball player and past winner, and delivers an inspiring story from her trials and tribulations through high school, to receiving the award, and eventually going pro .
I shift in my seat, the knot in my stomach returning when a quarterback from Alabama and Amanda, the softball player from earlier, start talking about their upcoming seasons.
“So, what are you doing now?” Cory, the quarterback, addresses Ryleigh. “Are you going the college route or did you get an offer somewhere?”
Ryleigh’s smile wavers so subtly I doubt anyone would notice unless they were looking for it. “I had offers to a lot of schools and some interest professionally.”
“I bet.” Amanda grins. “Were you fully funded?” she asks, chattering a mile a minute.
“I bet you were. Softball rarely is, but I’m happy with my partial ride, especially since it’s Division One.
We can’t all have a penis and our asses wiped like Cory over here.
” She rolls her eyes, earning a chuckle from her date.
“Hey, I can’t help it that men’s sports, football in particular, are far superior.” Cory grins, while I roll my eyes.
Normally, I’d reply with some smart-ass comment, but I’m too busy watching Ryleigh, weighing her response when Amanda scoffs and says, “Whatever. I don’t see you with the national title.”
“Touché, but I can lick my wounds after I go to school, then get drafted.”
“So, Ryleigh, who are you playing for in the fall?” Amanda asks. “I thought I heard Stanford was ranked first in women’s NCAA soccer? ”
Ry clears her throat. “No, it’s Florida State this year.” She shifts in her chair, uncertainty ghosting through her expression as she meets my eyes. “But I, uh, I’m not going there.”
“Oh. Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, actually.”
I hold my breath, reaching beneath the table to place my hand on her thigh, letting her know I’m here.
“Nowhere?” Cory blinks at her like he’s misheard. “So, you’re going pro?”
I feel Ryleigh stiffen beside me, watch as all of the confidence and pride from moments before vanishes before my eyes when she says, “No. I, um, found out I have lung cancer.” She straightens her shoulders as if to wade into the storm of their questions.
“I’ve been fighting it for more than six months.
I missed my U-19 season and had to drop my commitment to Florida. ”
Amanda gapes. “Oh, wow . . . I’m, I’m so sorry.”
“Shit. That sucks,” Corry blurts, and the table falls silent.
“Well, maybe once you recover, Florida State or another school will still take you. I mean, with your track record, they’d be crazy not to, right?” Amanda offers with a kind smile.
“Uh, I don’t think so. They had to take half my lung, and I’m super weak from treatments. Even if I did fully recover and train, it would take forever to get me back to where I used to be, and honestly, I probably won’t be the same again.”
Amanda, who doesn’t seem to know when to quit, nods. “Are your treatments going well, at least? ”
Ryleigh stares at her for a long time while I fight with myself on whether or not to intervene, ultimately choosing not to, knowing she’ll be pissed if I do. I can tell by the flush in her cheeks she’s already embarrassed. Needing her boyfriend to answer for her will only make that worse.
“No,” she finally answers. “No, they’re not. My cancer has spread, actually.”
You can hear a pin drop. Our table falls so silent, every inhalation is like a bomb.
What feels like hours later, Cory turns to James, another state title holder beside him, and strikes up a conversation while Amanda tries and fails to change the subject.
I’m expecting it when Ryleigh turns to me and says she’s ready to leave.
Every muscle in my body sighs in relief as we say good night and rise from the table. My body aches to hold her as I take her hand and lead her from the banquet room.
On the way to the elevators, she’s quiet. Her eyes are trained straight ahead, staring unseeingly in the distance, her mouth a thin line.
The doors swing open, and we step inside. I swipe the key card and hit the button for our floor before I turn to her and cup her face in my hands, beckoning her to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
She tries for a smile but fails. It doesn’t crinkle the corners of her eyes or light up her face. Instead, it falls flat, much like her tone when she says, “Of course. ”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
A beat of silence passes as I watch something I can’t read flicker in her hazel eyes.
“No.” She exhales, and her whole body melts as she leans into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and fisting her hands in my shirt. “No, I don’t.”