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Realizing that Miles is staring at me because he's expecting a response, I shrug and toss my hair over my right shoulder in a disaffected way. "That's, uh, great," I offer weakly. "It'll be… nice to see him and say hi," I lie. "How's the team about all of this? Excited?"
Miles shrugs. “They’re kind of all over the place from what I’m hearing. Coach Adams was like fucking royalty here—they all looked up to him. To find out that he was cheating on his wife with a student didn’t sit well. I mean, it’s a Division I team, and no one wants to fuck with success. It’s a big old mess.”
“I wonder why Colin took the job,” I say, thinking out loud. “I didn’t know he’d even thought of coming… um, home.”
Miles is only half listening to me because he’s suddenly busy eye-fucking Stella, one of the female soccer players who just sat down across the way on the bleachers. “It’s possible that he’s going back,” Miles says in a distracted sounding voice. “It’s a trial contract—the school is understandably wary about committing to anything in the wake of what Adams did—so right now it’s only for one season. I'm sure he'll tell you all about this at some point. I'm surprised he didn't call to tell you this. I guess there hasn’t been time. Dude’s been single for a long time—maybe he finally found a serious girlfriend."
Miles has no idea how those two throw-away sentences just sliced at me, and I do my best not to let it show on my face but the truth is that inside I feel like I just got kicked in the gut. I don’t know what I’ll do if Colin is dating since the very idea makes me ill. The last serious girlfriend he had, Amy, was in the picture from around the time I was sixteen to sometime before Christmas about two years later. He hasn’t brought anyone else home for any family events since Amy, and Nanny and Pop had both commented that he was holding off on dating until it felt real. If he’s dating again now, that’s not good.
Forcing myself not to think about the possibility of him having found the future Mrs. Findlay in the weeks we haven’t spoken, I focus on the other issue—the fact that he didn’t call or write to tell me he was coming. Granted, I’m the one who didn’t take his calls for several weeks but this is big news. You’d think he’d have found a way to let me know. At the very least he should’ve had Sam or Lolo—his two best friends—call to give me a heads up.
I’m a mess and staying in this seat is costing me. Apparently I have acting skill I never knew about. Taking a deep breath I try to pump the brakes on the million scenarios that are going through my head right now. Colin is here. At my school. And Miles is right too in pointing out that he didn't bother to call, text or email any heads up.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt as my skin breaks out into goosebumps and I get a tingling feeling in my stomach. Turning my head to the left, I'm not surprised to see the Adonis I've had a crush on since I was just a kid walking into the gym with a group of other coaches as well as the president of the university and two of the deans.
The amount of nervousness I’m feeling right now is on a whole other level. My palms are clammy enough that I have to wipe my hands nervously against my jeans, never taking my eyes off of Colin as he makes his way to the center of the court.
I’ve never been so glad to be dressed well in my life. I put a little extra effort into my appearance this morning since it’s the first day of school for this year and I started the day with that whole new year new me, mantra. My short sleeved aqua colored dolman top shows off my tan, my white skinny jeans make my legs look long and lean, and the teal colored Converse I'm wearing make the outfit cute and day appropriate. I even took the time to barrel curl my hair this morning, so it's down and styled in beachy waves. I’d be dying of shame right now had I been foolish enough to schlep my butt in here in sweats and one of my team T-shirts.
I fiddle with my small gold hoop earrings—a gift from the Findlays for my thirteenth birthday— as I watch Colin talking to someone from the athletic department I don't recognize. I can't take my eyes off of him, but he hasn't so much as looked in this direction. I’m somehow crushed that I felt a change in energy within the gymnasium as soon as he entered, yet he doesn’t notice me sitting here, not fifteen feet from where he’s standing. He knows I'm a cheerleader here. That he doesn’t appear to have even the slightest bit of curiosity about whether I’m in the gym is horrifying, all things considered.
