Taming the Varsity Player

CHAPTER 9: THE OUTSIDE WORLD

​The final bell of the day hadn't even stopped ringing before I packed my laptop and slipped out of the classroom, completely bypassing the crowded lockers. When Jake tried to flag me down in the hallway, I didn't stop. I simply texted the boys' group chat: Don’t wait for me. Going straight to work. I’ll get home myself.

​Mike hadn't spoken a single word to me since he publicly humiliated me in the cafeteria. He hadn't texted, hadn't looked my way in the halls, and had completely vanished back into his fortress of elite varsity silence. It stung, but I forced myself to bury it. I didn't need him. In fact, my afternoon had been brightened completely by Ethan Grey. Our conversation during lunch had given me a massive rush of adrenaline. He had listened to my ideas, praised my perspective, and given me the exact intellectual push I needed to start taking my music seriously. For the first time, someone in Oakridge saw my potential, not just my invisible status.

​An hour later, I was in the locker room of the Gable Stables, pulling my vibrant copper waves into a tight, impatient ponytail and switching my cream knit top for my work uniform—a heavy denim button-down, sturdy cargo pants, and worn-in riding boots. The air here smelled of hay, polished leather, and cedar shavings. It was hard, physical labor, but it was my sanctuary.

​I was mid-sweep in the main barn aisle when Marcus, one of the older stable hands, walked up, wiping sweat from his brow.

​"Hey, Gilbert. You’ve got a visitor out by the main mounting block. Asking for you specifically."

​I paused, leaning heavily on my broom, my hazel eyes blinking in genuine shock. "A visitor? For me?"

​"Yeah. Rich kid, by the looks of the car."

​My stomach did a nervous flip. I didn't have friends in Oakridge. My mother and my younger sister were miles away, and even if they were here, my mother would be working, not making social calls.

​Setting the broom aside, I walked out of the shaded barn into the blinding afternoon sun. Standing gracefully next to the white wooden fence was Allie Grace Vance.

​Allie looked entirely out of place against the rustic backdrop of the stables, yet she managed to look like a magazine cover. She was still wearing her pleated school skirt and designer sweater, her platinum blonde blowout completely unbothered by the light breeze. She was scrolling through her phone, the gold rings on her manicured fingers catching the light.

​I stopped a few feet away, crossing my arms defensively. "Hi."

​Allie snapped her phone shut, turning around with a smooth, perfectly practiced smile. "Hey, Eloise."

​Oh, so she actually knows my name, I thought bitterly, recalling how Allie had treated me like background furniture just hours earlier in English class. Aloud, I kept my voice level. "You're curious how I found where you work?" I asked, my tone dry.

​Allie let out a soft, melodic laugh. "I asked around. It’s a small town, Eloise. I have to talk to you about something." Allie stepped closer, her expensive vanilla perfume battling the earthy scent of the stables. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp calculation. "I heard a rumor today. A rumor that you’re living on the Weller estate."

​I kept my face completely deadpan. "I stay in the detached guest house because my mom is out of state for work."

​"Right. The estate manager's daughter," Allie said, her voice dripping with a sweet, toxic poison. She tilted her head, her cold blue eyes locking onto my 5'9" frame. "Look, I’m only telling you this because I care about the social order of this school. Don't see this living situation as an opportunity into Mike’s life. If you do... prepare for the very real consequences. Girls like you get crushed in worlds like ours, Eloise. Aren't I nice enough to drive all the way out here to give you advice?"

​Allie flashed the absolute fakest, most brilliant smile I had ever seen. It was terrifyingly polite.

​I didn't back down. I stared straight into Allie’s cold eyes, my jaw hardening. "I won't. Mike and I barely talk anyway. I’ll stay away from him."

​Allie’s fake smile softened into something genuinely satisfied. "Good." She turned on her designer heels, taking a few steps back toward her pristine white sports car, before pausing and looking over her shoulder. "You know, you're smarter than the other girls around here. I can tell you and I are going to be the absolute best of friends."

​With that final, chilling line, Allie entered her car, started the roaring engine, and drove off, leaving me standing in a cloud of white gravel dust.

​By the time I finished my shift and took the long, exhausting bus ride back to the Weller estate, night had completely fallen. Walking across the dark lawn, the main mansion was glowing with lights, and I could hear the booming, chaotic sounds of yelling and video game explosions echoing from the upstairs lounge. Jake and Chad were clearly up there with Mike, raiding the kitchen and screaming at a TV screen.

​Slipping quietly into the detached guest house, I finally let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding all day. I went upstairs to my bedroom, peeled off my dusty stable uniform, and took a long, scorching-hot bath to wash away the scent of horses and Allie's perfume.

​When I stepped out, I dressed down into pure comfort—a pair of tiny, faded grey cotton shorts and an oversized, baggy black vintage tee that hung loosely off my shoulders. I twisted my damp ginger hair up into a loose, messy bun, a few wild copper strands framing my face.

​Before heading downstairs, I walked over to my desk and opened my hidden wooden saving box. I pulled today's cash earnings from my pocket and dropped them inside, listening to the satisfying crinkling of the bills. Soon. If I kept working these grueling after-school shifts, I would finally have enough money to buy the professional musical instruments, software, and recording equipment I desperately needed. That was the only reason I tolerated this town.

​My stomach let out a loud, aggressive growl. I was absolutely starving.

​I walked downstairs to the cottage kitchen, checking the stainless-steel fridge. Since Mrs. Weller insisted on keeping the guest house fully stocked for "appearances," there was an abundance of fresh ingredients. I decided to make a massive, comforting pot of jollof rice—rich, smoky, and packed with spices—along with seasoned grilled chicken. As the savory, rich aroma filled the kitchen, I realized I had made way too much for just myself.

​Sighing, I packed the majority of the food into large glass containers, walked across the dark lawn, and left it on the main house's kitchen counter with a note that simply read: For the boys. I didn't want to see Mike, but I knew Jake and Chad would probably starve without my cooking.

​Back in the cottage, after eating my fill, the house felt incredibly heavy and quiet. I grabbed my phone, plugged in my headphones, and walked out onto the dark, secluded patio of the guest house. I laid down on the plush outdoor lounge chair, staring up at the starless Oakridge sky.

​I turned on my music, letting the nostalgic, jangly guitar strings of The Smiths—my absolute favorite band—flood my ears.

​I closed my eyes, mindlessly humming along to Morrissey’s melancholic voice. Slowly, the humming turned into soft, quiet singing, my vocal cords vibrating with a raw, emotional depth as I sang into the empty night air.

​As the music played, my mind inevitably drifted back to the chaos of the day. I couldn't tell Mike what Allie had done. He wouldn't even talk to her anyway. He had completely changed the second the school doors opened, showing his true, arrogant, old-money self.

​I miss how we were during the summer break, I thought, a heavy, frustrating ache forming in my chest. I miss the boy in the dim warehouse who looked at me like I mattered.

​But as I rolled onto her side, I forced the thought of Mike Weller out of my head. I pulled up my text messages, staring at the contact name Ethan Grey.

​It’s okay, I reassured myself, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at my lips in the dark. My crush actually spoke to me today. He thinks I'm brilliant. Maybe... maybe I will finally have a boyfriend who actually sees me.