Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
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I didn't know I could feel guilt for reasons that were unknown to me. But every time I think about the night of her birthday, my chest tightens and cold sweat coats my spine.
Blondie is avoiding me, that much I know. And while I don't know what made her cry, I can't blame her for not wanting to see me.
If I broke down crying, being vulnerable in front of someone I thought I hated—Nick, Coach, or even Sinclair—I would have avoided them at all costs too.
All I want to do is reach out and make sure she's okay. But I guess I'm the last person she wants to talk to about it.
Grabbing my duffel bag from the passenger seat, I slam the car door shut behind me and trek towards the athletics building. A cold chill follows me as the tips of my fingers start to go numb. The pavement is still wet from the morning rain, and the trees surrounding the buildings are still packed with colourful leaves.
Elijah recommended swimming as a way to relieve some of the pressure and ache in my arm earlier this week. Something about the calming effects of water on my limbs. I wasn't really paying attention to him, mostly wanting to dropkick him past the goal post for the comments he made about Blondie a few weeks ago. The luring gazes and the vile words still swarmed my mind during that session.
It was comforting to know that Blondie wasn't there. As much as I wanted to see if she was okay, I had to be grateful that she wasn't spending more time alone with him—not that I don't think she could handle herself. I just don't want her to have to deal with it.
I guide across the glossy checkered tiled floor in my swim trunks, stepping past the showers and inhaling the intoxicating chlorine smell. It infiltrates my senses, and I can't help but get another whiff. Very much like the smell of petrol, you can't help getting another drag despite it probably being terrible for your health.
I assume the pool to be empty from the lack of water sounds and splashing, but I'm thoroughly surprised to turn the corner and find Blondie floating on her back in the middle of the large rectangular pool. The lane dividers are rolled away in the back, and there isn't a ripple in the water. There's a serene stillness, and I take a moment to admire not just the calm water but the regality of Blondie.
Wearing a black one-piece swimsuit, her skin pales in comparison, appearing almost ghastly white. Her arms and legs are stretched out to her sides, and her light hair floats around her like a halo. She looks so peaceful from her slightly parted pouted lips, the curve of her nose, her dark brows and her lashes that fan across her high cheekbones. She also isn't wearing a lick of makeup which is the first I've seen from her.
If I thought she was beautiful before, nothing could compare to the look of Blondie bare-faced. She's bare and vulnerable, but unlike her birthday, she doesn't seem utterly shattered by the idea of it. She looks so pure like I can see down to her soul and hear her deep inner thoughts.
