by Shae Ross
“So, have you had a good time this week, honey?” my mom asks over the sound of the dryers.
“So-so,” I say. “It’s been challenging. I’m glad it’s coming to an end.”
Her hand rubs my back as we walk down the hallway. She pushes the door separating the great hall from the hallway and I stop short. Jett is filling the space. I’m frozen again, and he looks as shocked to see me as I am to see him. I can feel my mom’s eyes flipping from me to Jett and then back to me.
“Hi,” I breathe the word out to him.
“Hi,” he says in a low, even tone. He looks to my mom.
“Jett, this is my mom, Anne Prell. Mom, this is Jett Trebuchet. He’s the captain of the other team.”
My mom nods her head and smiles at Jett. He extends a hand to shake hers.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Prell.”
“You as well, Jett. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks,” he says. I step aside and he moves past me without looking at me.
“Well, he’s an eyeful,” my mom comments, smiling.
“Right now he’s more of a mindful than an eyeful,” I say, shaking my head. I promise to explain more later as my stepdad escorts us to the front of the stage.
“I apologize for not having seats reserved for you guys.”
“Jade took care of it,” my mom says. “We told her we were coming just in case any prearrangements had to be made.” They kiss my cheeks. “Good luck, honey. We’re proud of you no matter the outcome.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I love you both for being here.”
Mr. Trott begins the reading of our names, and we all climb the steps and walk across the stage to our seats. I exhale a silent breath. He thanks the crowd for being with us tonight and recognizes all the Trott Venture employees who helped put our missions together.
“No matter who emerges as the evening’s winner, I know we can all agree that before us sit six incredibly talented and accomplished individuals. Working with them this week has been our privilege. Without further ado, we’ll hear the closing remarks from our teams.
“Since I’ve been calling on the ladies to go first all week, we’ll let the guys have the pleasure this time and hear from Team Jett.”
Jett stands up, buttons the front of his jacket, and steps up to the microphone. He looks perfectly composed, not a nerve out of place, all contained within the smooth brilliance he exudes. He makes a lighthearted comment and the audience laughs. His smile flashes back and forth over the crowd, and I drop my gaze to my hands in my lap.
It’s painful to watch him, looking happy and confident as if it doesn’t bother him to think the worst of me. I breathe out a breath and Jade’s hand covers mine. I press a small smile and return to watching Jett. His mouth is moving, but I barely hear a word of his speech.
Thoughts flip through my mind like a slideshow of this past week. I remember the way he looked at me in the limo that first day we met and the jolt of energy I felt. I remember the way he talked to me about my dad and the way it felt to be walking beside him through Central Park. I remember the touch of his fingers running over my thighs in the photo booth and the heaviness of his body on top of me. The thought of it all makes my heart ache.
The audience applauds. Jett shakes Mr. Trott’s hand and takes his seat. I readjust my posture in my chair.
“Good luck,” Jade whispers.
Mr. Trott announces, “Team Ryan, delivered by Ryan Rose.”
The main points of my speech are outlined on my cards, and I will speak around those in a freestyle sort of way. I adjust the angle of the microphone and begin. My voice is smooth as I echo Mr. Trott’s sentiment: thanking the crowd, the Trott family, and everyone at Trott Ventures for the opportunity they have provided us with this past week.
I talk about the business program at Michigan State, about the accomplishments that qualified us to participate in the ACE ‘Treps competition. I flip to my next card. The bullet point reads Expectations (don’t forget your eye contact). I raise my head and spot the mayor, a full head above the rest of the crowd, sitting toward the back. I find my mom and stepdad in the third row. I use them as my eye-contact spotting points as I speak.
“Rather than tell you what we expected would happen this week, I’d like to tell you what we didn’t expect would happen: we didn’t expect the Trott family to grant us the opportunity to participate in meaningful business decisions that affect their organization; we didn’t expect they would have enough respect for our work product to immediately incorporate our recommendations; and we did not expect we would learn so much in one week—”
My eyes catch on the vision of a man—familiar—walking down the center aisle. My eyes move on, but the vision imprints on my brain. I recognize the jaunty walk, his lanky frame. Someone in the front snaps a photo, and white light draws my attention. The camera lowers, and I turn my eyes back to the familiar form. His face is a fuzzy white blob, floating above his dark suit, distorted from the bright light. I turn back to my notes just as the vision of the man’s face sharpens in my mind. My breath hitches into the microphone, and I turn back and stare. It’s Phil. A haunting chill runs up my spine. He’s stepping over someone, moving toward an empty seat.
Am I hallucinating? Is it nerves? I blink hard, hoping my mind is playing tricks on me, hoping the image will go away, but it doesn’t. My speech is suspended mid-breath. What the fuck is he doing here? And before I finish asking myself, I know the crushing answer to my question. I whip my head toward Jett. He’s followed my startled gaze, and he’s staring at Phil. Oh my God. He’s called in Phil—after I confessed how badly hurt I was. I’m trembling and shaking my head in disbelief. How could he do something so evil? He must have hated me all along.
I grip the sides of the podium and dip my head, staring at my feet for a moment as it sinks in. I look at my notecards. I can’t distinguish the words I’ve written through the teary glaze blurring my vision. Small shuffling noises can be heard from the audience, reminding me with urgency that I have to pull it together.
My fingers fumble through the cards, and I clear my throat, trying to buy myself time and get my mind back on track. Heat from the stage lights beams down on me with the force of a blowtorch. Moisture prickles my temples.
I take a deep breath, unclench my fists, and flip another index card. I am not going to let these guys pull me off my game. Sparty up, Ryan. My mind locks in and I’m back on track. The bullet point reads Lessons Learned About Misperception. I pause and take another deep breath.
“When we began this competition, our perception of our competitors was just that—they were our competitors. Wolverines from the University of Michigan, and we’d already assigned to them all the stereotypical traits. We misperceived their confidence, we misperceived their accomplishments, and we misperceived our own ability to work alongside them. It’s a hard thing for a Spartan girl to admit, but I was dead wrong in more ways than I can account for with this speech. Suffice to say, one of the most valuable lessons learned this week is how damaging it can be to act upon a misperception that you’ve created in your own mind. We are thankful for the experience with our competitors and the valuable lessons we’ve learned this week.”
I look up and smile. He’s set me up to look bad in front of the entire audience—the same way I set Team Jett up to fail on opening night. But calling in Phil? The thought that he could do that to me forms a pit in my stomach. It seems so malicious…so juvenile. The audience applauds as I gather my notecards. I nod my thanks to them. Jade and Devi each put a hand on top of mine as I take my seat.
Done.
Mrs. Trott glides up to the podium. “Our job now is to tally the final points and award the winners. Please enjoy the evening and join us back here at nine o’clock for the final award and the conclusion of our program.”
Conversation rises to a low murmur as the audience begins to disperse. I stand and turn my body toward Jett. He’s facing me with an expression on his face that I cannot read
, and I don’t bother trying. I only have one emotion left for him.
Chapter Eighteen
Jett
I follow Ben and Vaughn off the stage. We stop and huddle up.
Ben glares at me. “Did you invite Phil?”
“Fuck no, I didn’t invite him.” Did he take my email as some sort of invitation—even though I never responded to his suggestion we grab a drink?
Relief shines in Ben’s eyes. “Well, Phil sure does have the golden touch when it comes to offending women,” he says, looking more disgusted than victorious.
I move my head a notch and start searching the room. Either Phil showed up just to mess with her, or he’s interested in trying to get back what he’s lost. Either way, I’m going to find him and personally escort him to the door. Things may be off with me and Ryan, but there’s no way I’m going to let him fuck with her.
“Did you see the look on the girls’ faces? I’m sure they think we called Phil in as our closer.” I look at Ben and realize he’s right.
He shakes his head. “I don’t even want to win anymore,” he says.
Vaughn scratches his head, looking a little bewildered.
The girls walk past, and we all remain silent. Devi’s shoulder bumps aggressively into Ben, and his large frame stumbles forward, knocking into us.
“Hey now,” he says to her back. “Is that really necessary?”
My gaze flips to Ryan and I see her walking toward her parents a few yards away from us. Her mom’s arms are wide open, but it’s Jade who is flying at her. “Mom and Dad! You made it!” Jade says.
It takes a minute for her words to sink in, but when they do it’s as if someone has poured concrete into my veins. My hand comes up to grip over my mouth. Fuck me.
Ben’s hands grab the back of his neck and he’s muttering something in a self-loathing tone. Vaughn just stares. In my mind I’m doubled in half, holding my knees and gasping for a breath. I drop my hand from my face, stand up straight, and force myself to watch Ryan and her family. I created this torture.
“Well, there’s one beautiful brunette I can kiss good-bye forever,” Ben says. He grips my shoulder and smacks my chest. “Hope we win, Treb.” He pushes past me and Vaughn turns to follow him.
I’m left standing alone. The man I presume to be Ryan’s stepdad is holding her arm. It looks like he’s consoling her as she stares at the floor and nods. I did this to her. I feel nauseous. Her words haunt me: What damage you do when you act upon a misconception.
I’ve played the scene in the limo over in my mind a dozen times and come to the same conclusion: there’s no way my suspicions about Ryan’s relationship with Robert were right. The shock on Ryan’s face and the genuinely disgusted responses of Jade and Devi confirmed that. It wasn’t right for her to leave me this morning to go running with him, but I no longer believe there’s anything more to their relationship than Robert’s imagination.
My chest tightens as I recall the vision of Ryan swaying behind the podium. I should have been there for her instead of pushing her away minutes before our final presentation. I rub my clenched fist over my forehead and watch Ryan with her family. Nice of them to come. I see the genuine love on all of their faces as they exchange compassionate smiles. I wish my dad were here. His absence is magnified watching Ryan’s family, standing in a line with their arms around each other’s shoulders, including Jade’s. When I extended the invitation, he’d said something about being in California on business. If I hadn’t made the choice to believe the worst of her, I’d be standing next to Ryan right now. Instead I’m standing like a homeless bum, staring across a street into someone else’s window.
A hollow feeling settles into my stomach. As badly as I want to apologize to her, right now I have no explanation, nothing I could possibly offer to justify my accusations. She’s safe in the arms of her family where she belongs and I have no place there. I need to leave her alone.
I turn and blend into the humming crowd, determined to find Phil. The least I can do for Ryan is make sure he never bothers her again. The mass of people seems to have thickened, and it’s painful to smile at those I pass.
I see Ben and Devi standing under an arched doorway. He’s leaning over her, shaking his head while she jaws at him, jabbing his chest with her finger. He’s braver than I am. At least he’s attempting to apologize.
I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes circling the entire hall. No Phil. The asshole must have taken off.
I need some air.
Forty minutes from now they’ll be announcing the winners but I feel like I’ve already lost. I push open one of the heavy front doors and step out. Cool night air stings my lungs as I start down the steps. I’m halfway to the sidewalk when I hear the sounds of the great hall echo louder and then fade. Someone’s opened the door behind me. I stop and turn.
Ryan’s standing at the top of the steps. The bank of doors behind her casts a white-yellow glow around her small frame. Her eyes burn down at me with a raw look of betrayal. The wind picks up and her hair swirls around her shoulders, twisting a long tendril over her cheek. She breathes out one low word. “Why?”
“Ryan.” I say her name in a broken whisper, as if it’s an apology, shaking my head.
“Why?” She spits the word out, and I swear I can hear her teeth grinding she’s so pissed at me. I drop my head and look up at the sky, exhaling a deep breath. My hands rest on my hips, and I look up at her. I don’t even know what to say. I have fucked this up so badly, apologizing seems useless, but I can at least be brave enough to stand in front of her and take the beating I deserve. I start up the steps to where she stands.
“Ryan, I’m sorry.”
She’s moving down toward me. Her pace increases with the distinct clip of heel on stone, faster with each beat. Her face is a pale sheet of anger, and I open my mouth to say it again. She leaps off the step, pointing a finger at my chest. I bend my knees and brace myself to catch her. She charges full force, losing her balance and crashing into my shoulder. I steady her with my arms around her waist and concentrate on keeping both of us from tumbling down the hard stone.
“How could you do this, Jett?” She says my name as if it’s a curse, and I feel it like a punch to the gut. “I should have known,” she says, her voice trembling. “I should have known.”
“Ryan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Her fingers clench the lapels of my jacket, shaking. She slows her movements, and I see tears sparkling through the lightness of her eyes. Her forehead drops into my chest. I rest my chin on her hair and close my eyes in shame. Her fingers cover her face, still pressed against my chest. A sickening feeling spreads through my entire body.
“God.” Her voice is a muffled squeak. “You knew I had to get a restraining order so he’d stop hounding me. And you just served me up to him—all so you could—”
“Ryan, listen to me.” I take both of her shoulders in my hands and wait until her baby blues are looking up at me. “I didn’t invite Phil.”
I know she’s justified in believing the worst in me, but it still stings she would think I could do something like that.
She sniffles and sneers. “Then how did he know where to find me?”
“I sent him a Facebook message, asking him if he knew you. I told him we were in Manhattan competing with State girls. That’s all I said. You can read my message, Ryan. I swear to you.”
I have to tell her. I have to admit it. Admit to her that I had no faith in her, in us. My jaw shifts. She’s looking up at me, her innocent face already a canvas of devastation. And I know what I have to say is going to hurt her.
I whisper down to her through clenched teeth, “I thought you were lying to me about Jade’s mom and about Robert. I thought you were all trying to make us feel sorry for you, and I thought you were getting close to me so I would throw the competition.”
“What?” Her voice comes out in a horrified rush. She pushes her hands so forcefully against my chest it steals my breath for a mom
ent. She wipes a hand over her cheek and glares up at me.
“You thought I slept with you so you’d let us win?” It sounds so ridiculous when she says it, but somehow for the last twenty-four hours, I managed to convince myself of exactly that. Her eyes are searching mine, urging me to come up with some other explanation and I wish so badly I could, but I’ve got nothing.
Her head tilts and her eyes look pleading. “Jett?” She says my name in a questioning whisper.
“Yes,” I say. “I thought you slept with me as a strategy to win.” My gut clenches at the horrified look on her face.
She’s shaking her head, her voice trembling as she speaks. “Nothing could be further from the truth, Jett. If that had been the truth, you know what that would make me? Dumb and easy!”
“Ryan, we were going to throw the competition. We were going to withdraw with Mr. Trott, and then I saw you with Robert and heard Jade on the phone this morning—”
“Throw the competition?” she interrupts, her voice indignant. She pauses and looks at me with confusion. “What are you talking about?” I remain silent, watching her eyes widen with understanding. Her mouth drops open and she lets out a small huff. “You don’t think we can win, do you? The State girls couldn’t possibly be smart enough to beat the all-elite—”
I grab her wrist. “Stop it,” I grit out. “I may have thought that at one time but I sure as hell don’t now, and you know that’s the truth. If you’re going to keep saying that, it will be your own words you’re using, not mine.”
She flinches at my anger and twists out of my grip. I take a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm down.
“Since the day we met you’ve been trying to convince yourself that I’m an asshole.”
“Well you sure are making it easy for me,” she snaps.
We stand, staring intensely, neither of us wanting to blink. I can feel the remnants of our battered relationship going down in flames right here on these steps. I have got to get a handle on myself. I know I’m right. But she’s right, too. I exhale a deep breath and step closer to her.