“Right,” she said, glancing up at me. “As soon as we clear reference checks, get the deposit, and all of that.”
Shiv was fronting almost all of the deposit. She claimed not to care—Chase said her parents were loaded, which was probably why—but I hated feeling like I was freeloading.
Then my phone vibrated. I glanced down, expecting a text from Chase. But it was from Amelia: Found someone who wants your room. They want to move in within two weeks.
I wrote her back: Fine.
“Okay.” I locked my phone and set it down again. “Sorry about that. What are your thoughts on going with the unit on Pine? That was Amelia, and they found someone to take my room. I need to be out in two weeks.”
It wasn’t about the money so much as getting the hell out of there. And this was the push I needed. Being away from that toxic environment would be a relief.
The server set down Shiv’s chicken quesadilla, then my buffalo chicken sandwich.
“If it makes the decision for us, maybe all the better,” she said, dipping her quesadilla into the little bowl of salsa. “Then we don’t have to agonize over it.”
“Do we have an agreement then?”
“Yep.” She nodded, doing a little dance in her seat. “I’ll email the rental agent. I’m excited!”
“Me too,” I said honestly, grabbing my sandwich. With an escape plan solidified, food had never looked so good.
My phone vibrated again. I expected a snarky follow-up from Amelia, but it was a text from Zara.
Zara: Good news, bad news. Liam just quit. Sports section is all yours! But that means you need to cover that volleyball tournament out of town. Sorry, I know it’s short notice.
I let out a gasp. “Oh my god.”
Shiv frowned. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is great,” I said, staring at the screen in giddy disbelief. “I just got a promotion at the school newspaper.”
This was the experience I needed to build my portfolio for after college. If I landed the paid internship, the combination of the two would look seriously impressive to potential employers.
Except…this meant I’d be attending more Bulldogs games. And, like, interacting with the team to get quotes and conduct interviews.
Ugh. Talk about a double-edged hockey stick.
After finishing up dinner with Siobhan, I texted Chase about the volleyball tournament. Now that I was handling the entire sports section alone, it was even more imperative that I attend. Although I didn’t mind having an excuse to take a day trip with him.
Bailey: What’s your schedule like the Saturday after next?
Chase: Practice at eight Saturday, off Sunday.
Bailey: Perfect. I have an exciting proposition for you.
Chase: Keep talking.
Bailey: I’ve got my hands on a pair of super hot tickets to…
Bailey: Callingwood’s volleyball game in Roseford.
Chase: And I have the text version of blue balls.
Chase: Just kidding. If it’s with you, I’m down.
Bailey: It’s our team’s finals. But…it’s 1.5 hours away, early Saturday afternoon. Does that work? I would give you gas money.
Chase: Of course, and not a chance.
Bailey: You never let me pay for things.
Chase: Never will. Sorry, James.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 34
OceanofPDF.com
PERSONAL SHOPPER
Bailey
I perched at the table in the Callingwood Daily office with Noelle and Zara, trying to finish my part of a group project for Ethical Issues in Journalism and Communications. Knowing I’d see Chase later always made it difficult to focus, but today was especially challenging because he was picking me up later for the volleyball game—followed by sex toy shopping.
What had I gotten myself into?
I hadn’t even told Noelle or Zara, though I knew they’d cheer me on if I did.
“Bailey,” Professor Johnson said, lingering in the doorway. “Can we chat quickly in my office for a moment?”
I glanced up from my laptop. “Sure.” I shut it quickly and slid it into my bag, then followed her out of the room and down the hall to her office.
Professor Johnson was the epitome of laid-back, down to her untameable frizzy gray hair and colorful floor-length skirts. A hippie in her youth, she’d racked up countless journalism awards for her coverage of international affairs. As our faculty advisor for the paper, she tended to give us a long leash. But she did check in with us every now and then when we needed guidance or when something went truly off the rails.
She lowered herself into her desk chair, gesturing for me to have a seat. “I wanted to touch base with you about taking over for Liam. I know it was sudden.”
“I’m excited,” I said, sinking into the red cloth chair across from her. “I’ve always wanted to handle the sports coverage.”
Professor Johnson raised her salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Are you sure you can manage it on top of your other responsibilities? I know you have a heavy course load, and I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“No, it won’t be a problem.”
I just might have to make a few sacrifices. Like sleep. Or possibly my sanity. You know, those minor negotiable things.
“Good.” She nodded, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to me. It was a list of Liam’s assignments until Christmas. “I wasn’t sure what he passed along to you in terms of his current and future assignments. As you can see, he started a feature about how the assistant captain for the Bulldogs is stepping up to guide the team while their captain is injured.”
I took a closer look at the list, and my stomach plummeted to the floor. Much to my dismay, there it was, second bullet from the top: Bulldogs feature with assistant captain.
The Bulldogs’ assistant captain was Paul.
Would it be unprofessional of me to dry heave?
“Liam did an interview with him already?” I asked. “Does he have a recording or transcript I can review?”
“No,” she said, folding her hands over top of the desk. “He hadn’t completed it yet.”
By “starting” the feature, she meant Liam had thought about it. Maybe.
Dread took root in my stomach and blossomed from there. A one-on-one interview with Paul wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, even if it would add to my writing portfolio.
“Since you’re familiar with the team,” Professor Johnson added, “I knew it would be no problem for you to conduct the interview so you can write the article.”
I nodded, but I wanted to scream. “Right. None at all.”
“I can email you the guidelines for a feature article as well, since this is your first time writing one.”
“Thanks,” I said, “that would be great.”
By the time I left her office, it was time to leave to meet Chase at the traffic roundabout. I made my way out of the center for communications and texted Amelia for Paul’s number while I walked across campus. After receiving an exceptionally frosty response—almost like she thought I wanted it to hit on him or something, and um, not a freaking chance—she eventually passed it along.
Then I connected with him via text and arranged a time to meet at a coffee shop on campus Monday. Better to get it over with rather than have it looming over my head.
A few hours later, Callingwood had pulled off an impressive win, Chase and I had eaten more than our share of junk food at the game, and we were back in town.
He pulled into a parking spot in front of Lush Boutique and killed the ignition. The neon pink sign glowed accusatorially at us. Going in there would be like announcing to the world that I was having sex. Not just sex, freaky sex. Or that I was masturbating, which I wasn’t keen on advertising, either.
“Ready?” He turned to face me, dark brown eyes glinting playfully.
Nerves seized hold of me, fight-or-flight response kicking in. The trepidation was like the first time I’d filled my birth control prescription amplified times a million.
“Nope.” I shook my head, crossing my legs. “I changed my mind. I can’t go in there.”