Chapter Five
Tutoring left me starving. I hobbled into the student union and headed straight to the cafeteria. Westland’s SU was one giant pie, each slice having something different to do. Pool tables and darts, check. Study area, check. Gaming room, check. The sixty inch flat-screen, check. The cafeteria made up one slice with the booths and tables filling the center like a creamy circle. I ordered my usual burger and fries with a vanilla milkshake before heading toward the booth where Chuck, Barry, and Seth held court.
“Hey, Betts, where ya been?” Chuck Mathis laughed at his own joke. Of course he knew what happened to me. He was there. Besides, I’d seen the jackass twice already.
“Bite me, Mathis.” I sank into the booth, glad to be off my feet after hobbling across campus. For the next hour, I only wanted to sit on my ass and catch up with my friends. “And thanks for the flowers.”
“What flowers?” Barry Acklin asked through a mouthful of fries. I swear he gained more weight than a pregnant woman during the off-season. As soon as Coach started the serious work, he would drop fifty pounds in three weeks.
Chuck smacked him on the back of the head. “He’s being sarcastic, dumbass.”
Barry nodded and shoved more fries in his mouth. Every day I thanked God he was on our team. Barry was another guy who could’ve gone to a bigger school, if his SAT scores were better. As it was, he’d redshirted his freshman year for academic reasons. Once he learned how to study, he was a solid C student. He could’ve transferred, but he was a loyal kind of guy. Westland University gave him a chance, and he wasn’t going to leave for greener pastures.
“How’s the knee?” Chuck eyed a girl as she sashayed by our table.
I grimaced as I stretched it out. “Hurts like a bitch.”
“What’re your chances of playing this spring?” Seth Fisher asked. He leaned against the wall behind Barry. Seth was tall and lean. Despite the fact I took center field from him, he was one of my best friends. Seth wanted to win, and if that meant he had to move to right field, he didn’t argue.
“Slim, if I go by what the doctor said.”
Chuck laughed, but I didn’t hear if he said anything else. My gaze toured the large dining area and settled on my new tutor. Mallory sat on the other side of the room at a small table with a hipster wannabe. Her hair was pulled away from her delicate face in a thick ponytail. I watched while she talked, her hands flying around the space between them. Hipster smiled, hanging on to her every word. He glanced at his phone, said something that she bobbed her head to, and stood to leave. He bent down and put his hand on her shoulder.
Was she dating that guy? He didn’t seem her type, not that I was one to judge. From our brief time together, Mallory seemed like someone who needed a guy who would challenge her, make her think about life in a different way. But I’d been wrong about a lot of shit lately. I was probably wrong again. As if feeling someone spying on her, she tore herself from the guy and turned slowly around the room until meeting my gaze. I didn’t glance away.
Someone stepped into my line of sight, breaking my staring contest. My eyes refocused on a denim-covered crotch standing way too close for comfort.
“What did you say to Trish?” Trent cracked his knuckles as I raised my head to look him in the face. Fluorescent light glinted off his shaved head, ricocheting off the silver ring hanging from his eyebrow. What a douche. He flexed his biceps, expanding the tribal tattoos wrapping his arms. Trent was the type of guy who probably didn’t even realize he wasn’t part of a tribe. And I was pretty sure those muscles were medically induced.
I leaned against the back of the navy-blue booth, playing it cool. “Oh, you know, Trent, I just told her that there wasn’t anything she could say that would make me take her back. Guess that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, huh?”
The anger in his eyes turned to confusion. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Seth glared at Trent, waiting for him to make a move.
Trent seemed to realize I was lying. He reached down and grabbed my shirt, tugging me toward his face. “You sonnabitch. Stay away from my girl or I’ll break your other knee.”
“I wouldn’t stick my dick in her if she paid me, buddy, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” I sneered so he’d know I wasn’t afraid of his bullshit macho attitude.
Seth yanked Trent off me while Chuck got between us. The lounge went quiet as everyone waited for a fight to break out. Trent’s eyes never left my face, and I kept my sneer in place. There was no way this musclehead was going to get under my skin.
Trent pointed at me, then slashed his finger across his neck. “You’re lucky, Betts. I won’t kick a man while he’s down.”
I laughed, knowing it would only antagonize him further and not really caring. “Man, you won’t ever get the chance to kick me when I’m up.”
“This ain’t over.” Trent continued to point while one of his buddies wrenched him away.
Seth and Chuck waited until Trent was out of sight before sitting down.
“What the hell was that about?” Barry asked before taking a bite of his second cheeseburger.
“Nothing. He’ll forget about it by tonight.” I swirled my fries in the ketchup/mayo mix on my tray. When Trent had grabbed my shirt, I’d rapped my knee against the table. The throbbing rattled my teeth. I reached into my pocket for the pain meds and popped one.
“Yeah, when he’s banging your girl,” Chuck added, getting a high five from Seth for the slam.
“She’s not my girl anymore,” I pointed out, emphasizing it with my fries. A glob of pink dripped onto the table before I shoved the mess into my mouth. I glanced back to where Mallory had been sitting. Two girls with tanned legs in short skirts occupied the table. For a moment, I imagined moving on from Trish with one of them. Just asking either of those girls out on a date. It wouldn’t be hard. Baseball players were second only to the basketball players on campus. Winning a national championship does that. But the thought didn’t last long. I didn’t know them enough to date either of them. And I didn’t have a lot of time on my hands to get to know someone new. With the knee injury, the physical therapy, the tutoring, watching tapes in my spare minutes, even one date was a daunting task. Moving on would have to wait until I could actually move.
I was twenty minutes early. Instead of settling into a cubicle to study for my Operations Management exam, I headed toward the conference room. Calling it a conference room didn’t make any sense. It was a classroom, plain and simple. One for tutors like Mallory or, if a prof needed to make use of the library he could hold class. It was hidden on the north side of the building near the restrooms and away from any other study rooms or cubicles. The only thing between it and the open section of the first floor were the stacks.
Someone had left the door cracked open. I leaned against the wall and watched Mallory through the window of the door. She paced the front of the room, talking wildly with her hands as she explained the best method to introduce a thesis. A girl in front asked a question I couldn’t hear. Mallory smiled, explaining what a thesis was. Probably not for the first time. She owned the room and the four students inside. When the study session was over timewise, she kept going. The students shared their latest papers and grades. Mallory explained why they’d failed in a way even I understood. I didn’t wait any longer. Those kids needed her.
On my way across campus, I kept glancing over toward the library. Not the wisest move when maneuvering on crutches, but I only went off the sidewalk once and managed to keep my balance.
“Hey, Betts, how’s it hanging?” Seth came around the side, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His rock star style and badass reputation made him both a source of jealousy and envy among most of the guys on campus. Whereas Trent tried to appear intimidating, Seth just was. Fortunately, anyone on the baseball team was on his good side.
“It’s hanging.” I was about to ask him what he’d been eating when some bottle-ginger walked out of the shadows, tugging her tight skirt down.
Seth laughed as she stumbled. Whether it was her too-tall heels or whatever happened between her and Seth, I really didn’t want to know.
“Watching the game?” I asked, changing the subject before it even started.
Seth nodded, his gaze drifting down to my brace. “How’s the knee doing?”
“Good as it can be, I guess. I’d rather eat gravel than have to crutch it for the next week.” I tapped the metal crutch against the cement steps.
Seth propped himself against a half wall protecting the raised flowerbeds. “How long you out?”
“Depends on who you ask. I’ve read it can take four to six months. The doc thinks I’m in the six to eight month range.” As much as I tried not to think about it, the length of my recovery weighed me down like a baseball doughnut in the on-deck circle before a big at-bat. The crutches cut into my pits as I leaned into them.
“Sucks. Remember when I tore my rotator cuff?” Seth stretched his arm above his head.
“Yeah, that’s why I got the chance to play.” Seth’s injury was a freak accident during my freshman year. He’d gone after a long fly ball, slamming into the wall to make the catch. His head snapped back, but he managed to hold on to the ball. And he managed to keep his head in the game. He turned to throw out the tagging runner, bypassing the cutoff man. The minute the ball left his hand he felt a pop in his shoulder, and he went down hard.
“Well, they said six to eight weeks if not longer before I started throwing again.” Seth grinned, and my gut instincts told me this was something I didn’t want to hear. “I was practically healed at four.”
That would’ve caused me to step back if I wasn’t balancing on metal poles. “And you had surgery.”
“Yep.” Seth pushed off the wall and strolled up the steps to the entrance. “Just remember that, Betts. It’s the law of averages. Docs aren’t always right. You can get better faster.” He stopped with his hand on the door and turned toward me. “I mean, if you want to.”
Seth pulled the door open with more force than necessary, using his surgically repaired shoulder.
He had a point. I’d only get better if I wanted to, but my knee was going to heal at its own rate. Nothing I did would make that happen faster. And Seth wasn’t stupid enough to suggest anything chemical.
Shaking off the thought, I headed inside and made my way toward the rest of the baseball team gathered in front of the flat-screen TV. A few of the guys brought their girlfriends. Last year, Trish was among them. My mind flashed back, and I realized she never sat with me while we watched the games. She’d go off with one of the other girls and, well, I wasn’t sure what she did, but she always came back for the ninth inning.
I tapped Tony Rosenthal’s shoulder and motioned for him to get out of the recliner.
“Hey, I was sitting there,” Rosenthal whined as I took over his seat.
“Shut up, Rosie,” Chuck said beside me. “You’re the reason Betts is on those damned crutches to begin with. Least you could do is give up your seat for the man.” Chuck emphasized his point with a not-so-gentle shove.
Rosenthal’s six-six frame slumped over. “You know it was an accident.”
Chuck slapped him on the shoulder and guided him toward the middle of the couch. “That’s the only reason I haven’t kicked your ass yet, rookie. Now sit down, the pregame’s coming on.”
I settled into the chair as the debate raged on which team was going to win the series. The Phillies had the reigning MVP while the Cardinals had the reigning Cy Young winner. The pitchers all thought the Cardinals would win. The freshmen went with the Phillies. The rest of us were split down the middle. My bet was on the Phillies, but I wouldn’t count the Cardinals out completely. Jason Carter, a Madison hero who played for the Birds, had a hot bat and a good chance of being league MVP. Either way, it was going to be one hell of a good series.
The arguments got pretty heated in the bottom of the fifth. The game was scoreless and the Phillies were threatening with runners at the corners and one out. I almost didn’t feel the gentle tap on my shoulder.
I caught the smirk on Chuck’s face before I turned around. Mallory stood beside the recliner, staring at the screen. Her hazel eyes darkened. Guilt slid down my throat, even though I didn’t make her show up. Why was she here? And what the hell did baseball ever do to her?
“Hey,” I said, drawing her attention back to me.
She tried to soften her expression, but her eyes darted back to the game. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. One of the freshmen had a meltdown that would rival Three Mile Island.”
“Three mile what?” I asked, searching my brain and coming up empty. “Wait, isn’t that an Eminem song?”
“Dr. Monroe was right, you didn’t pay attention in class today.” She shook her head as a grin lifted her cheeks. “Then again, he said there was some drama when he walked in.”
Some guys groaned in unison while the others cheered, but I couldn’t look away from Mallory. She, however, glanced at the screen, and her grin turned into a full smile.
“Why don’t you grab a chair?” I asked, drawing her interest back to me.
She shook her head and dropped her gaze. “No, I can’t stay. I just wanted to apologize.”
“You could’ve done that in an email,” I pointed out.
“Maybe, but it means more face-to-face.” A blush blessed her cheeks.
“Hey, Betts,” Seth said, suddenly in front of me. “Introduce me to your friend.”
Mallory didn’t miss a beat. She held out her hand like it was a business meeting. “Mallory.”
“Seth.” He took her hand and lifted it toward his lips, but Mallory pulled free before he could kiss her. Seth raised his eyebrows, and she scowled in response. “Too good for a lonely right fielder?”
“I doubt you’re lonely often. Besides, I don’t date baseball players,” she said. Her gaze shifted to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she spun on her heel, I reached out and touched her arm. “Wait a second.”
She stopped and turned, kneeling beside the recliner.
“Sorry about Seth. He thinks every girl wants to have sex with him,” I whispered so only she could hear me. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Seth had moved across the room to chat with some girl who stood next to the bottle-ginger from outside. He never was into pitching duels.
Mallory shook her head. “You’re different than the rest of them.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She grinned, ducking her chin in a failed attempt to hide it. “You should.”
“Listen, I think Monroe has it in for me. Maybe we should up our sessions, meet during lunch or something. What do you think?”
“I don’t think Dr. Monroe has it in for you,” she said. I noted that she hadn’t said no yet. “We can see how this week goes before jumping into twice a day sessions.”
“He has it in for me, trust me on that.” I pulled my cell from my pocket. “At least give me your number in case I get stuck on something.” Inside I chastised myself for such a lame way to get her digits. But it was purely academic. Nothing more. “So I can text you.”
Mallory stared at my phone for a moment before taking it and typing in her number. She handed it back, pursing her lips.
I let the phone drop into my lap. “Great. I’ll text you if I need any help.”
Mallory shook her head and walked away. She wasn’t halfway across the lounge when I sent her a text.
Who won the AL Cy Young in 2008? Aaron
She stopped just before the door and pulled her phone from her front pocket. She read the text, shaking her head as a smile spread across her face. A moment later my phone buzzed with her response.
Cliff Lee. Who was the Republican nominee for president?
George Bush?
Maybe try Google next time. ;)
I wanted to laugh, but Hipster showed up and put his arm around Mallory’s shoulders. She shook him off, stepping away with a shy grin. He touched her arm, and she didn’t move away from that. Weird. Were they dating? Were they just friends? Or did he want more and she didn’t? I wondered what her type would really be. Somehow my gut told me it wasn’t Hipster.
It was none of my business.
Turning back to the TV, I tried to focus on the game.
I have no idea who won.