Plié and Clout

Chapter 56: Granola Bar

Alright, so this has been a long time coming, and I've written something close to ten different endings for this book, you know, first draft being that he explains it to her without the drama bit and it's shorter, then there was one where Belle told August and one where August saw it on TV but then they had a legit convo after it, then this drama-start came and I wrote a scene where they went to coffee after the game except that was out of my mind boring, then one where he came over after the game and explained it in the civil way, and this is the most recent and currently my favorite I think. Anyway, lets get to it. 

also: RIP: only ten chapters left

-rabid

***

AUGUST

I spend a full hour pacing inside my apartment. I try to sit on the couch and wait for him but I get fidgety. I get an antibacterial wipe and try to focus on cleaning the kitchen, at least wiping it down, but I can't. I try to focus on work emails on my phone but that's a definite no. I turn on the T.V but it's post-game review, it replays some more important moments, his goal, but I can't focus on it with the gigantic storm cloud working it's way closer to me.

I start to walk between the rooms of the apartment looking for something, anything to do. I mean, for god's sake why can't I just act normal.

I consider getting myself a drink out of the fridge but having alcohol out with him around and being fuzzy in the head when this is an important conversation is a terrible idea. I mean, everything about that would be a bad choice except it might put me to ease in the moment.

I call Gabby but get a busy signal and remember that she had something with Zak early tonight. So I drop a text and ask her to respond because I don't know what to do. 

It's still crazy that her boyfriend is best friends with Steph's EMT. Damn those two boys for being the most blatant link to pro hockey I had. I mean, it should've been damn near obvious Jorgen and Steph knew each other better than most when Jorgen mentioned he knew about Steph's experience at the teacher conferences. I mean, he's the friend of the girlfriend's best friend's boyfriend. Why should he know that Steph gave the math teacher a run for her money.

There's a soft knock on the door and I respond before I can process anything. "Come in!" I call, standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the bookshelf. I was in the middle of deciding if I should rearrange them.

"Gabby, I just, I don't know what I'm going to-" My mouth goes dry when I see who's standing in the entryway. Fitted sweatpants and a granola bar.

He stares right back, wide eyed.

"I... thought, I thought you were Gabs." I mumble.

"What?" He couldn't hear me

I curse myself out in my head. "I thought you were Gabby." I repeat.

"Oh." He responds over a mouthful. He takes a second to chew and then swallows. I watch each flex of his jaw and the drop of his adam's apple. One of his hands is in his pocket, the other is holding the bar. Like I said, fitted black sweatpants with 53 on the hip, his real name under it. They taper down at his ankles, to his feet where he's wearing a pair of those sneakers that don't have laces.

I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. In none of the scenarios I've gone through in my head, of which there's been thousands between the rink and right now, did I want it to go like this.

I peek through my fingers at the rest of him. A plain athletic navy blue t-shirt with Wolves written across the front covered up by a pretty tattered athletic looking jacket. The shirt is hanging loosely off his chest, folding gently down to his waistband where it gently bunches up, leaving the tie on his sweatpants visible. The jacket is also navy, but a little darker than the shirt. It has a different emblem on the front, something with a flame in it. It looks like the material used to be waterproof, but wear and tear over the years has rendered it far from. The ends of his sleeves are worn through, the edges of the cuffs show the grey under-material.