I drop my head against the back of the couch, exhaling hard, reminding myself that I didn’t need to teach this clinic. I needed to tone it down for the age group, and just keep the overall structure.
Even with that reminder, I am nowhere near ready for it. Not even close.
I need to get back into the gym. I now have five weeks to build up my stamina, regain my strength. Maybe Rhodes will go with me. I shove that intrusive thought right back to wherever it came from.
Returning to the present problem, which is that I can’t stop thinking about the moment I’ll have to demonstrate in front of them. In front of their parents. In front of an audience.
So far, Rhodes is the only person who has seen me skate. And Elsie, apparently, if she’s watching the cameras. I’m not sure I can handle anyone else watching yet.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table with an incoming text. I flip it over and glance at the message.
Rhodes (8:01am):skipping today, Abrams?
Monroe (8:05am):what are you talking about, Rhodes.
Rhodes (8:06am):you aren’t at the rink this morning. Ditching???
Monroe (8:10am):I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me.
Rhodes (8:10am):you avoiding me? ;)
Monroe (8:15am):you truly are insufferable.
Monroe (8:17am):also not everything is about you, McKnight. Elsie doesn’t have me on morning janitorial duty anymore.
I watch his little text bubbles pop up and disappear for a few seconds before my phone is actually ringing.Rhodes McKnightlights up my screen.
I groan, but decide to answer it.
“Access to me via text message isn’t enough?” I snap. “Now you have to call me too?”
A low chuckle filters through the speaker, deep and infuriatingly smug, curling low in my stomach in a way I refuse to acknowledge.
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”
“Quit calling me that.”
He ignores me completely and continues talking.
“What are you doing right now?”
I glare at my laptop. “Aside from being spectacularly annoyed at the Wolverines’ idiot captain?”
“Yes, Monroe,” he says patiently. “Aside from that.”
I hesitate into the receiver.
“Staring at my past clinic lesson plans.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
To lie or be honest? I decide in a split second.
“Poorly,” I say. “I can’t perform any of the skills I need to pull this clinic off.”
The silence stretches for a second, and I can hear him thinking. I immediately regret the fact that I said anything at all. I should have just lied.
Then his voice comes through, smooth and unmovable. “Do you have class today?”