Page 24 of Game Plan

Coach waited for me as I pulled myself out of the water and joined my teammates. “Excellent job, Shepard. Keep up with the good work. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I said before grabbing my towel to dry myself off.

A face I hadn’t seen in the bleachers in a long time stood out amongst the others. Mason was watching me like he used to during my senior year of high school.

The weight of his gaze burned my exposed skin, and I averted my eyes, not sure if I was strong enough to hold it.

What was he doing here? How did he know I had a meet today? Did he download my schedule from the university website?

Uneasiness washed through me.

I had no clue how to react to his presence.

I caught his eye before turning around to avoid getting sucked into the vortex that I was clearly too weak to resist.

Donovan inched closer, stealing my attention. “Good job, Mel.” He pulled me into a hug. “You were killing it out there. I knew you were the best.”

“Thanks. You weren’t so bad either.”

He shrugged. “Well, third place isn’t what I’m aiming for. I’ll do better in the butterfly, I swear.”

“You’ll crush it. I’ve seen you at practice.”

“Fingers crossed,” he said. “I gotta get ready. Wish me luck.”

“Like you need it.”

He chuckled before walking away.

The rest of the meet went as amazingly as it had started. We finished second in the women’s medley relay, and I was riding a high in the locker room afterward. I was taking my sweet time in there, waiting for everyone to leave before getting dressed. I loved having the room all to myself after a meet. It helped me relax and let the adrenaline settle before I went back to my room and indulged in some me time, something that was impossible to do when we had to take the bus to away meets. It also helped my mental health after the pressure I’d put on myself last year. Sometimes, I had a hard time not comparing my body to others, but I was getting better at not letting it affect me. Sure, I had longer legs and wider hips than some of my teammates, but some had bigger breasts or asses. None of us was perfect, and we all had insecurities. It didn’t mean these insecurities were allowed to rule my thoughts, though. I was me, and I was learning to appreciate how unique it made me.

I slipped my legs into a pair of dark varsity sweatpants and pulled a form-fitting, long-sleeved white cotton shirt over my head, still grinning like a fool.

I finished blow-drying my hair, admiring the three ribbons I had set on my duffel bag, and more pride swelled inside me. I had done amazingly today, and I wished my parents had been here to see me perform. They were spending the whole weekend in Nashville for my brother’s gig, and I hated the idea that I had to miss it. Chris was making a name for himself out there, and I was glad he was finally finding his way after suffering the loss of his biological mother as a child and acting out for far too long. While my escape was my sport, his was music. Dad had even told me last night that my brother had a serious girlfriend these days. I hoped he was happy. We hadn’t talked in a while, but I had planned to call him later this week to catch up. Before I left for college, we had decided to work on our sibling relationship. In the past, we had never really made an effort to get to know each other, but now we were willing to try. I wasn’t sure if my relapse last year had prompted him to reach out, but I was glad he did. I’d always wanted a caring big brother ever since I was a little girl.

My mind drifted to Mason as a conversation we once had about my brother resurfaced in my mind. Earlier, when I saw him sitting in the bleachers, watching me—cheering me on—it unsettled me for a second. Why had he been there? Not wanting to mess with my focus, I had decided to tune him out. But now, I was starting to wonder if this was his way of easing back into my life. I thought I’d made myself clear when I told him last night it was better for us to stay away from each other. Had he heard me right, or had he misunderstood my words?

I put on my sweatshirt and hauled my bag onto my shoulder but stopped in my tracks when I exited the locker room, and my eyes took in the guy with his back pressed against the opposite wall. Even though he was a man now, with his disheveled hair, Mason still resembled the boy I met when I was twelve. My heart flip-flopped at his sight.

He pushed his tall self from the wall when he saw me approaching.

“You still here?” I asked, not sure what to make of his presence.

“Yeah, well, I was waiting for you to come out. I was starting to think you were hiding in there, avoiding me.” A flush colored his cheeks pink, and he looked adorable—and appealing to my stupid heart.

“I love the silence after a meet. It helps me take it all in and analyze what I did good and where I can improve. It soothes my mind and helps with the anxiety and everything. It’s my ritual when we’re competing at home nowadays. What about you?”

“I hadn’t seen you compete in ages. You’re even better than what I remembered. The Crestwood U colors look good on you, Mel…huh…you looked good out there.”

“Thanks.” I twisted the strap of my bag between my fingers, not knowing what to do with my hands as we stood mere feet apart.

Mason scratched his forehead with his thumbnail before nervously scuffing the sole of his shoe along the floor. Something he used to do back in high school when he was anxious.

“So, I was thinking… It’s almost dinner time, and I’m starving. Perhaps we could grab a bite…if you’re free. There’s a Thai place a few blocks from here. What do you say?” He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he avoided my eyes for a moment. Was Mason nervous around me? I wasn’t used to this side of him, because he looked so confident most of the time. The scene of him being uneasy before a game last year, when we both couldn’t sleep one night and he’d shared about his insecurities and the pressure he felt to bring his team to victory, replayed in my mind. Followed by the memory of the night he had locked himself in his hotel room on the verge of having a panic attack just before playing at State.

“What do you say, Shepard? Wanna get some food with me?” he asked again when I didn’t reply. “Just like old times.”

“Huh…” I was tempted to say yes. A big part of me wanted to say yes—blame it on my stupid heart or my need for closure—when I remembered I had a date at six o’clock. “I can’t.” I scrunched up my nose. “I have plans already.”