Dirty Curve

By the time the second game ends, everyone is beat, the sun shining heavier now that we’re deep into May. It never gets too hot here, but we are on a turf field enclosed by a shit ton of metal, so it’s hot. I’m not beat though, I’m pumped.

I skip the showers, quickly change back into my street clothes, and slip out without a word.

“Tobias.”

I screech to a stop, backpedaling until I can see into Coach Reid’s office.

“What up, Coach?”

He frowns, just now setting his clipboard down, his keys still in his left hand as he lowers onto the edge of the desk. “You skipped showers?”

“Didn’t play. Figured I’m good until I get home.” I shrug, glancing up at the clock on his wall.

His eyes narrow. “Why the rush, I was going to offer to take the team out for dinner.”

“Hey, they deserve it, but uh, did you need me for something? ‘Cause, if not, I’m gonna run.”

He stares at me a moment, a slow nod following. “You go ahead. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Coach.”

I’m out the door, and a few minutes later, walking into the diner, but Meyer is nowhere to be found.

The chick cleaning the tables sees me coming and tries to beeline away, but I catch up to her. “Hey, is Meyer here?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “If Meyer were here, I would be off already.”

“O-kay... so she went home early?”

“She didn’t show up, playboy.” She tosses a dish into her bin and yanks it off the table. “Better luck next time.”

Worry slams into me, and I hurry out the door, trying to call her on the way to her house, but it doesn’t even ring. Her voice mail picks it up instantly.

“Fuck.”

I pick up speed, getting to her apartment in record time.

No one answers the door after my first knock, so I tap my knuckles a little harder, and then the lock clicks on the other side.

Meyer slowly pulls it open and the air whooshes from my lungs, right out of me.

“Shit, thank god.” I dart forward. “I thought—”

I freeze after a single step when I realize she has the door drawn closed, nothing but her face and a fraction of her body showing. No part of her is crossed over the threshold of her entryway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m tired.”

“That why you’re not at work?”

Her eyes pop a bit. “Yeah, I ... I’m not feeling well.”

“I can go get some soup or something? 7UP, maybe some ginger ale?” Unease whirls in my gut and I don’t know why. “Or I could stay, wake up with Bailey tonight so you can rest?”

She scowls and her eyes drop to the floor. “Bianca’s coming over to help. She was here earlier, so if I’m sick, she’s already been exposed. It’s just ... easier. Besides, you have a game tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a game until Monday.”

“Right,” she whispers, still not looking up. “I should go lie down.”

A sudden weight falls over me. “Tomorrow then?”

“I-I’m going to my brother’s.”

My head tugs back. “What?”

“Yeah, he bought us train tickets. We leave in the morning so ...”

“You’re going for the night?”

“For the weekend.”

“I leave for Nashville Monday, we’ve got a double, and finish out the series Tuesday, we won’t be home until later that night. Then I turn around for another Wednesday evening.”

“Yeah, I saw. Good luck.”

Good luck?

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes crease and she nods, unable or unwilling to meet my eyes.

“Is this about the picture? I told you, I’ll ask Coach to take it down.”

Her leg begins to bounce, and a shaky laugh escapes her.

“Baby, what—”

“I hear Bailey, I have to go.”

My shoulders fall, but I manage to nod. She said she’s not feeling well, so all I can do is take her word for it. “Okay, Tutor Girl. I’ll see you Sunday night, maybe?”

Her smile is close-lipped, and then she’s closing the door, leaving me on the other side.

Tension pulls at my muscles, but I stretch through it.

Only it all comes back when not fifteen minutes later, on my way home from picking up a plate from the taco truck downtown, I spot Bianca walking across campus with Cooper, headed in the opposite direction of Meyer’s place.

q

By the time Friday night rolls around, I convince myself Meyer doesn’t want me to feel obligated to stay with her when she isn’t feeling well, so she told me Bianca was going to be there to help out even though that wasn’t the truth.

But then when I texted her to make sure she made it to Milo’s okay, and all I got back was a quick, one worded ‘yes’, I started to trip. It got worse when Saturday’s good night text went unanswered.

If I knew where Milo lived, I might have driven there right then, and offered to be their ride back tonight, but I don’t, which is why I’ve been parked at the edge of the school property, directly in front of the street that leads to Meyer’s apartment’s alleyway since noon.