Book #2 in the Medley series
JENNIFER RUE:
I thought I had my life all mapped out.
But nothing throws a wrench in your plans like finding your fiancé in bed with another woman.
Untangling myself from the damage Darren did is hard, but the more I...
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Saltz: Mayday!
Jayden: What?
Saltz: SOS
Sophie: Are you having a stroke?
Saltz: God, I'm trying to use old-timey language to convert that there is a non-life-threatening emergency that needs your attention
David: I don't think you know what Mayday means
Saltz: Just get your asses over to Mitch's place, ftlog
David: Frogs trapezing lazily over grass?
Jayden: What kind of fucked up emergency is that?
Saltz: ...
Me: We're on our way
When David and I knock on Zeke's apartment door twenty minutes later, Archer opens. The expression on his face makes me pull him into a hug. "What's going on?"
"Yeah, we'd like to know, too," Sophie says, walking out of the kitchen with Jayden in tow. Wordlessly, she hands me a cup of coffee full of creme and sugar, just the way I like it.
I glance behind her, seeing Ollie sitting at the kitchen table wearing headphones with his phone in his hand.
We all look at Archer. Even though the team has been back in the pool for over a month, signs of the summer break still linger on him. Tanned smile lines around his eyes, and a buoyant spring in his step - he went to Ibiza with his sister for two weeks. Now, though, there's a worried crease etched into his forehead. "So, I came over here to kick Mitch's ass in FIFA, but uh, he wasn't quite himself. He's..." Archer scratches his head. "Catatonic is a strong word, but it's not pretty. Look for yourself."
He points towards the living room, and with a concerned glance at Sophie, I lead the way. The glass doors to the living room are partially closed, and nudging them open, Zeke comes into full view.
He's sitting on the couch, and I can see Archer's point. Something isn't right. I've never seen Zeke looking this disheveled. His blond, almost shoulder-length hair hangs flat around his face with none of the volume it usually has. He has a way of making his hairdos look effortlessly windswept and handsome. Now, it's dull. The button-down he's wearing is creased, and instead of the usual slacks, he's in sweatpants.
But it's the almost vacant look in his eyes that unnerves me.
"Hi, Zeke," I say softly, edging my way into the room, the others following me cautiously.
He lifts his head, blinking a few times. "Hi, guys."
There is no trace of a grin on his face.
"What's going on?" Sophie asks, taking a seat on the couch beside him. The rest of us find places to sit or stand, too, and I end up on the far end of the couch.
