Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,1

place. I hit the water in frustration. It was the first race I’d lost in weeks.

Coach stood over my lane so I pulled off my cap and goggles.

“Hadley, how are the shoulders?”

“Okay.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Go have DJ ice them.” Coach reached down and gave me a hand out of the pool. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

After rinsing off in the shower and pulling on my T-shirt and sweats over my still-wet suit, I went to the trainer’s office.

DJ sat in a chair, his feet on the desk, reading a book. There were some who faked injuries just to get in front of him. His dark eyes were so concerned as he’d check out any ailment. And yes, he was cute. I wasn’t interested, but I wasn’t blind either. With his light brown eyes and loose dark curls he looked like the sweet best friend in movies who always ended up with the girl.

I knocked on the glass of the open door and he looked up.

“Are you busy?” I asked.

He held up his book but the title was in Spanish so I couldn’t read it.

“For school?” I asked.

“Sort of,” he said. “And to make my mom happy. Apparently language can be lost in as little as one generation.” He set the book aside and sat forward. “What can I do for you?”

“Ice.”

He jumped out of his seat. “Shoulders?”

I was only ever in here for one reason: my shoulders. “Yes.”

“Come in.” His hands were gentle as he guided me to the seat he’d just abandoned. “Your races go okay? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to talk about the only race I lost tonight and how irritated I was about the distraction. Apparently my face had already done the talking for me. I changed the subject. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“I’m here so the real trainer can be poolside.” He scooped ice into two large ziplock bags. Only half of his last scoop made it into the bag, the rest spilling on the floor. He fumbled with trying to clean it up. I bent down to help him and he waved me off and left it there scattered across the floor. He returned to my side.

“I know you don’t take this pain very seriously, Hadley, but if you’re not nicer to your shoulders, this could get serious soon. You need to rest them more.”

“I’m nice to my shoulders.”

He gave a grunt of disagreement and placed a bag on my right shoulder. “Hold this.”

I did and he grabbed the plastic wrap, then began to secure it down. As his hands worked their way around my shoulder, his shirt brushed my cheek. It smelled so good that it relaxed me a bit. He moved on to the other shoulder and I looked away to control my urge to sniff him.

“Okay, you’re all set.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe for a while, until your joint pain settles, you could work on your form.”

I smiled. “Yes, Coach.”

Amelia, my best friend, was applying mascara when I joined her by the lockers. After she put it back in her bag, she turned and poked one of the ice packs attached to me. “Nice. You’re all suited up for some football.”

“Funny.”

“How was DJ? As dreamy as ever?”

“Yep. Still the cutest nerd I know.”

“Do you think he’d date a high school student?” Amelia often set her boy-sights high, determined to land guys that were mostly unavailable to her. I liked her confidence, even though her plans almost never worked.

I always supported her unrealistic hopes because I knew that she knew they were just that. “He only graduated last year, right?” I wasn’t exactly sure because he’d gone to a high school across town.

“Yes, but I feel like college years are like dog years compared to high school years.”

I opened my locker and pulled out my towel and bag. “Dog years?”

“Yes, for every year you’re in college, you’re like seven years older than a high school student.”

“You’re weird.”

“And proud of it.”

I opened my bag and stared inside blankly. “Were you out there for my last race or were you already in here?” Amelia swam the race right before mine so she was often changing when I was up.

She scrunched her nose, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, did you want me to watch? Are your parents not here tonight?”

“No, it’s not that. Heath Hall was here. He jumped into the pool.”

“What? And I missed it?”

“He completely distracted me . . . and probably all the swimmers.”

“That sucks. So .