Catching Mallory: Wildcat Graduates by Jordan Xana

Author:Jordan, Xana [Jordan, Xana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

It’s Sunday night and I finally have some down time. Baseball has kept me busy this weekend. Since the season is in full swing, our game schedule is pretty packed with practices, meetings, team events, and games. This has kept my mind occupied, not thinking about Mallory and what went down with Keaton.

I’m walking into my room, having just come from the gym, when Mallory calls me. “Hello,” I answer, and then toss my door keys and gym bag onto the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I walk to the fridge and grab a bottle of water.

“Hi. Are you busy?” She sounds nervous about something, and I’m a little apprehensive to hear what the cause of it is.

“Nah, just got back from the gym. What’s up with you,” I ask, sitting back on my bed. I really need a shower before I go eat.

“Oh, I just got off work a little bit ago. Thought I’d see if you’ve been to the cafeteria yet.”

“I was going to go after I took a shower. Why, you want to go with me?”

“If you don’t mind, I was just so glad to get off work I didn’t want to stop and get anything.”

“I bet you were. I’ll meet you over there in say, thirty minutes?” Relief is evident in her voice as she agrees and we end the call. After finishing off my bottle of water I grab my things and head for the shower. There are a few guys milling around in the hallway as they slowly arrive back on campus, but the bathroom is empty when I enter. Standing under the steaming hot water eases the sore, achy muscles in my shoulders and upper back, so much so, that I become very relaxed and start yawning.

Extra long shower complete, I throw on a t-shirt, basketball shorts, and a hoodie and make my way over to the dining hall. She is waiting on the top of the steps that lead downstairs to the cafeteria when I make it to her. Most of the students are already done with dinner so we have our choice of seating, even though we sit where we usually do.

We’ve randomly chit chatted through half of our meal when Mal decides to break the obvious tension between us. “How was your game yesterday? Since I had to work a lot this weekend I wasn’t able to keep up with the score. Did you make any runs,” she drills, leaving me no time to answer before asking another question. “Was it a close game?”

“Slow down, M&M. We played a good, close game and I did score. What’s got you all worked up?” Setting my fork down, I turn toward her and wait for her to speak. It’s obvious her nerves are getting to her, and I’m now more than curious as to why.

Dragging her fork through her mashed potatoes and playing with them, she stares at her plate, as if to gather up the courage. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she looks up at me and begins.

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