We add in sparkling earrings and a chunky necklace to complete the look, and Tia whistles through her teeth. “Damn, girl. You could seduce me tonight if you wanted.” Elyse claps her hands and makes me do a little turn. I’ve never in my life spent this long getting ready before, but I have to admit this is amazing.
Right on time, I get a call that I have a visitor at the front desk of our dorm, and the girls follow me down the hall to spy as I greet Tim. He stands by the doorman wearing a fitted tux, looking insanely hot in dark grey with a long skinny tie.
He grins when he sees me, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. I smile timidly, clutching the tiny black bag I brought with my phone and ID and some cash, just in case. Shaking himself back to the present, Tim stoops and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. “You look beautiful,” he says.
“So do you,” I reply, truthfully. Tim is a beautiful man. His facial features are noble, strong lines. He has impossibly long lashes, too—and I’m pretty sure he didn’t spend the afternoon getting them curled or using mascara. I slip my arm into the crook of his and we head out to his car for the banquet.
The donor banquet is my favorite function every year, but it’s especially nice walking in on Tim’s arm. I love seeing all the athletes dressed to the nines. They all look slightly awkward in their formal wear, but their bodies are so elegant. It’s like a huge parade of glamorous people surrounded by a ring of their rich patrons eager to meet them. The two of us are definitely turning some heads, and it feels good to be seen this way. Most of the people in here have only ever seen me in khakis and an SCU polo shirt. As Tia said, tonight I’m reminding them I’m their trainer and a woman, too.
There is a pretty short line of people wanting to meet SCU’s star swimmers, but Tim introduces me kindly to the athletic supporters. Most of them look like they still swim laps every day to stay in shape, decades after graduating. We chat about my future plans for grad school, and I’m stunned when one of the graying gentlemen hands me his card.
“I’m on the kinesiology faculty in Ann Arbor,” he tells me, after listening to Tim brag about how I helped him with his sore back this season. “Shoot me an email and let’s talk about your plans.”
Tim excuses himself to grab us some champagne as I stare at the card in amazement, feeling the warm glow of excitement replace my flutter of nerves about being here. Then I feel someone watching me, a sense of being stared at. I look up across the room to see Baxter, hanging out with the transfer quarterback, Kevan.
Baxter is looking at me with an expression I haven’t seen from him before. He looks…wild.
Tim returns with our drinks and clinks his glass against mine, drawing my attention back. “To connections,” he says, and I smile, watching as he looks up across the room.
“Woah,” Tim says. “Is that your friend? That guy is fucking staring at you, Olive.”
I don’t need to look back over my shoulder. “Yeah. I’m not sure what’s going on with Bax tonight. Want to go over and talk to him with me?”
But Tim’s face changes to one of concern and I turn around. Kevan grabs Bax by the elbow and they lean close for a photograph. I see Tim squeezing the stem of his champagne flute. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he grunts, finishing his drink in one gulp. “Do you want another drink?”
I haven’t even tasted my champagne yet. I look at Tim and shake my head, but he walks off to the bar. I decide to take a read of the room, searching for prospects. I catch the eye of Finnegan and Scotty and smile, heading their direction. I wave and walk their way, noticing their jaws drop.
“Olive?” Scotty is having the exact reaction I’d hoped for. I know I can’t go for one of Bax’s roommates, but I can tell that he thinks I look good in a non-friendly type of way. I feel satisfied and take a swig of my champagne. And then, of course, I cough when the bubbles hit my throat.
Tim approaches us with a glass of something dark and he puts a hand on my waist. Catching Scotty noticing, I say, “Guys, this is my friend Tim. From swimming?”
Neither Scotty nor Finnegan says a word, both just staring at me with Tim. I’m about to ask if they’ve seen Baxter, but Tim looks away. “Hey,” he says. “You want to grab an appetizer or something?”
“I’ll catch you guys later I guess,” I say to Baxter’s roommates. They nod without saying anything, continuing to stare at me while Tim pulls me toward tables of cheese and crackers. He seems so sullen as he swigs his drink. I can’t figure him out today. This morning he wanted me to meet his parents, and now he is stiff and grouchy and half drunk.
“Hey,” I say, touching his arm. “Is something wrong?”
I offer him a plate with some crackers on it, but he shakes his head. “I can’t eat bread in season,” he says, downing the rest of the drink, then grabbing yet another from a tray nearby.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I feel sheepish. I know Bax watches what he eats, too, but his concern seems to be with adding weight to his frame.
“It’s fine,” Tim says, but he keeps looking over toward the football players.
Not sure what else to do or what exactly I did wrong, I nibble a piece of cheese, and then yelp as Tim leans in for a kiss.
