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Brooks and I focus on the neutral topic of school until Holden joins us.
“Hey, Holden.”
Holden nods. “Brooks.”
“Finn is still sleeping, so I thought I’d explore campus a little.” Brooks glances at me. “Do you think anyone here will care if I poke around the science center?”
I shake my head. “It’s the brick building just past the library. The lounge areas and lecture halls are always open. It’s just the professors’ offices that get locked over the weekend.”
“Great. Thanks. Nice to see you guys.”
“You too,” I say.
Brooks smiles, then heads toward the door.
I finish adding milk to my coffee, avoiding Holden’s gaze. He always gets lattes because otherwise he complains his coffee is too strong or too weak when he dilutes it himself.
Once I’ve snapped the lid back on the cup, I glance up. Holden’s expression is apprehensive, which I’m relieved by. I’d rather that than he pretend nothing was wrong.
We left the party shortly after having sex upstairs. Spent the night at my apartment. And then he left early this morning for his weight session.
“How was the gym?” I ask.
He rolls his shoulder, then winces. “A little rough.”
“Did the whole team make it?”
“Owens was ten minutes late, but yeah.”
I’ve never understood the questionable wisdom of the basketball team partying the night before the first practice.
According to Holden, it’s a boost to morale. Play hard, party hard. The team that gets drunk together wins together. Drink as a team, dominate as a team. Some mentality like that.
All I can say is it makes me grateful study groups don’t follow the same twisted logic. Then again, passing an exam isn’t exactly a team sport. In the end, we’re all looking out for ourselves.
“Coach had a whole last season speech.”
“That must have been strange for the juniors and sophomores on the team.”
His smile is brief. “It’shislast season. Coach is retiring at the end of this year.”
“Oh.”
Holden nods. “Yeah.”
I know he was already carrying around a lot of weight about this season. Responsibility. Hope. Dread. I’m guessing the pressure of a beloved coach’s final season isn’t helping.
The two girls are still standing on the other side of the table. Despite the early hour, they’re sporting full faces of makeup and high, bouncy ponytails. And they’re both staring at Holden.
He tilts his head toward the door, ignoring the attention. Maybe it’s white noise to him at this point. “Library?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
One week in, and I have a long list of assignments to tackle.
“Do you have any work to get done?” I ask, as we start across the covered walkway that leads to the library.
“Probably.”
