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“Me three.” Brit slides down the line, skating like a flamingo.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m shy about it. My story’s all over the internet.”
I’m met with a chorus of “ohh.”
“How about we go get dinner at a nice place tonight and then tell each other our life stories?” Brit’s eyes shine at the prospect.
JT nods. “Sure. It’s not like I have a date or anything.”
“Who could possibly have time for dating?” Chelsea sighs so hard her shoulders sag. “All we do is train, study, class, train…”
A flash of heat travels up my body and settles in my face. “Ha ha, yeah. Who has time for dating?”
Me. I have time. Or more like I want to make time. Before Max realizes he has really bad taste in girls and finds someone less fighty. Someone sweeter. Maybe blond. I don’t know.
“Anyway, I’m always down for girl bonding time, but today’s kind of?—”
Chelsea’s eyes are about to pop out. “Wait, don’t tell me you have a date tonight.”
As if the D-word had magical qualities, the entire line of varsity Strikes turns around to me, completely losing formation.
“Someone has a date?”
“With whom?”
“Ugh, what does it feel like?”
“But with whom?”
“Ladies!” The strident whistling can only come from Coach Young. “Is this a training session or a pajama party? Get your butts back to work now.”
While everyone at the front of the line focuses back on the drill, the back still has its attention on me.
“Well?” JT’s face could be a meme, all wide eyes, pinched lips, and obvious amusement. But I can’t appreciate it when I’m soaking through my uniform in sweat, my heart beating faster than during the training drills.
I’m about to get caught in a lie, unless I lie even bigger.
“No, no. Chill, everyone. I don’t have a date.”
“Then join us for dinner!” Brit claps her gloves excitedly.
Oh. Um. The point isn’t to make them think I’m free. How can I escape this?
I wave a glove in the air, trying to act cool. “I just have a ton of coursework to catch up on, and like, exams are coming up and all.”
“Screw homework. Am I right?”
Not a single person in line contradicts JT. I don’t have the heart to either. If one could attend college and get the whole experience without the crippling mountain of debt, the unreasonable assignment deadlines, or the overbearing professors whose entire identities are built around berating students and being condescending to them, and without exams—it would be perfect.
“C’mon. One little girls’ night out won’t hurt your grades.” Chelsea winks, and once more, I wonder if she knows something more.
Their nagging becomes more and more relentless as the training session progresses. They back me up against a corner I can only get out of if I say I have firm plans and what they are. Which I also can’t do.
Later, half-naked in the locker room, I send Max a text.
Me
Uhh, change of plans
