Read Return to Sender Online

Authors: Julie Cross

Tags: #Contemporary, #Sports, #Teen & Young Adult, #Literature & Fiction, #Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), #Young Adult, #YA, #Series, #Romance, #Gymnastics, #Olympics, #New Adult

Return to Sender (2 page)

“The camp is providing a huge opportunity for publicity and promotion of future competitions,” the publicist says, “The girls would be participating in some of the camp workshops and activities, interacting with campers, coaching a little, signing grips, whatever the little girls and boys want. We need to widen the fan base for the sport before the next Olympic Games comes around and this is a phenomenal way to do that. Of course, we’d want Karen and Stevie to headline the act.”

I know I should be worrying about being under Nina’s watch for an entire month, but all I can think about is the fact that Jordan’s going to be at gymnastics camp all summer. Which is why I can’t open my mouth to respond or look in Bentley’s direction at all. He’ll put the pieces together and have even more reason to protest.

“What about the junior girls?” Bentley asks, “I can’t just abandon my gym or Ellen and Blair.”

“Bring them out for one week,” Nina says, “Make it your entire gym team’s week to spend at camp and bring your assistant coaches. I can do a workshop for them.”

The waiter delivers our meals right then, giving me a distraction from showing any signs of excitement regarding this plan. I want to be serious about my training, but at the same time, Jordan’s going to Stanford in the fall and I’m not going to be in California…

My gaze is locked on the plate of sliced grilled steak and a pile of plain white rice. I’m not going to UCLA. Not for a while. Holy cow. It’s been a couple hours since the meet concluded and this is just now hitting me.

Bentley elbows me in the side. “Look okay?”

I shake my head and then realize he’s asking about the food. “Yeah, it’s fine… I just remembered that I probably need to call Coach Cordes soon and let him know about the meet.”

“Yes,” he says, locking gazes with me before turning his focus back to Nina. “Let me discuss all this with the girls and my coaching staff and then we’ll be back to you before our flight home tomorrow.”

Both Nina and Riley look disappointed but cover with stiff smiles. They’re making a good effort to get us to come willingly before making it a requirement. Requirements always make things messier.

Stevie and I both dig into our meals and the forbidden regular soda. It’s exactly what my stomach needed. Thank you, Coach Bentley.

The three of us get our own cab back to the hotel and on the way, Bentley holds out his cell phone to me. “Call Coach Cordes. We’ll get that over with before we discuss the training camp this summer.”

I’m pressed between the two of them in the backseat, but I take the phone from his hand and hit call on the already queued-up number.

“It’ll be fine,” Stevie says. “He’s got too big an ego to act disappointed.”

I can’t respond to that because the second ring is interrupted by Cordes answering, but I could have sworn I heard Bentley snort back a laugh.

“Is this Karen or Bentley?” he says, amusement in his voice.

My stomach is fluttering. “Karen.”

“Let me guess,” he continues, not allowing me a word, “I won’t be seeing you in LA anytime soon?”

I exhale, relieved to hear the words spoken aloud. “Well, what are my options? If I move on to World trials and then Worlds in a few months…”

“Come on, Karen, you just cleaned up at Pan-Am. Nina would be an idiot to leave you out of World trials even if you completely bomb at Nationals.” He releases a frustrated breath. “This season is out and I might only be able to get you three more seasons, but I’ll look into it. Stay healthy, though. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Our conversation lasts another thirty seconds and I’m practically in a daze, handing over the phone to Bentley.
That’s it? All that worrying and he’s just going to let me delay for a year?

“It’s because you won,” Bentley answers my unspoken question. “Without that, he would have thrown some giant ultimatums at you.”

“Come to LA now or it’s all over,” Stevie says, deepening her voice to mimic Cordes, “Of course, that’s my boss’s decision, not mine. If it were up to me…”

“Okay, I get it,” I laugh. “I built this up to be so much bigger in my head, that’s all.”

“Now…” Bentley claps his hands together. “On to Nina’s plan.” He angles himself to face me, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now. I’m sure Jordan’s summer job is highlighting this plan quite nicely for you.”

There’s no point in denying it. “He’s going to Stanford in the fall and I’m staying in St. Louis, plus he’s gone all summer. This way both of us will get to see him, at least for the one week you’ll come out there.”

I can’t let myself think about what’s going to happen between me and Jordan when he leaves for school.

“This is a very crucial time for you,” he says. “You need to stay focused.”

“It’s not like they’ll be sharing a cabin,” Stevie interrupts. “It’s not like they’ll be living and sleeping as close as they are right now.”

“I’m not just talking about Jordan.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “In fact, I’m glad he’ll be there with you, but all those other distractions—camp activities, coaching.”

“I’ve trained there before in the summer,” Stevie says, “It was pretty great, actually. Especially with the equipment. We could both work on upgrading our skills.”

“Yes,” Bentley concedes. “That’s one of the big benefits I’d been thinking about.” He draws in a deep breath and looks at both of us. “Can you handle three weeks of Nina Jones minus me and half your support system… ? Ellen and Blair won’t be there.”

I look to Stevie for approval and we both say, “Yeah, we can handle it.”

And I have a feeling Stevie’s real thoughts line up with mine—
I have no idea, but we’re about to find out.

chapter four
Jordan

“S
trep throat,” I repeat.

“Didn’t you have that like last week?” Tony asks.

“More like six weeks ago.” Twenty-four hours into my antibiotic treatment and I’m finally feeling like myself again. “Doctor said I probably developed a resistance to the antibiotics. He gave me something much stronger this time. It’s already working.”

Tony plops down into the recliner and has his phone out three seconds later. “So, you nervous about seeing your world-famous girlfriend again? Now that she’s won a shit-ton of gold medals your ass might not be good enough for her.”

Yeah, I’ve considered that. And yeah, Tony’s kidding, but still, I’ve considered it. I’m just not ready to think about that at the moment. I’m not ready to think about where she’s headed and where I’m headed and the miles—both symbolic and literal—between us. “I’m just excited to see her.”

He glances up from his phone for a second and laughs. “Dude, I can tell. You’re pacing. Do you even know you’re pacing?”

“I’m not pacing.” I stop walking and stand in place. “I’ve only got three days and then I’m leaving for camp.”

I hate that I took that job and yet, I freaking need it, considering I’ve signed a letter saying I’m going to attend Stanford in the fall. My dad had better figure out this whole financial thing. I know he said he would, but that’s a hell of a lot of money to come up with by August. In the meantime, I’ve got to save every penny I can. If I’d known about me and Karen several months ago, I would have looked for a local job. Now the opportunity is gone and besides, I love coaching at gym camp.

“Yeah, I know you’re leaving in three days for freaking Pennsylvania, which is not even a cool place to visit, and then you’re off to make fancy Ivy League friends.”

Tony’s playing it off like he’s joking, but I can tell that going to school close to home while I’m away is not sitting well with him. Before I get a chance to respond, the front door opens and Karen and my dad both stumble inside, dragging several pieces of luggage each. Karen’s rolling a giant blue suitcase, her ponytail flipped over her face and her baggy Team USA warm-ups crinkling with every step.

Dad gives me a quick pat on the back and then grabs Karen’s bags and heads for the stairs. As soon as he’s out of sight, I grab her around the waist and pull her into a big hug. My face is buried in her hair, taking in the familiar scent. She feels warm and solid and here. Finally here.

“Jordan,” she laughs. “I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.” I loosen my hold and pull away, resting both hands on her shoulders. “We’re going somewhere. Like now. Are you ready?”

Her gaze drifts over my shoulder to Dad standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, defensive mode turned on. Karen’s face goes beet red and she steps away from me. Since he found out about “us” we’ve literally had two days at home together and I’ve been anticipating extra supervision and him being suspicious of forbidden activities happening when he’s not around. More suspicious of me instigating said activities, rather than Karen influencing me.

“I thought you were sick,” he says.

“Feeling much better now.”

Karen’s literally standing between us and I can feel the awkward vibe rolling off of her. Her gaze drops to the floor. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Seventeen hours of travel and all…”

The second she’s out of sight, Dad turns into an FBI interrogator. “Where are you going tonight?”

I glance at Tony for a little help. I hadn’t exactly planned past the part where we got out from under Dad’s watchful eye. Tony drops his phone to his lap and straightens up. “Audrey Michaels is having a party tonight.”

“So it’s like a big group thing?”

I work really hard not to roll my eyes and say, yes Dad, lots of people around and little opportunity to get some quality alone-time. “Yep, big group thing. And Tony’s gonna chaperone.”

“I am?” Tony says and then adds, “Right. I am,” after my eyebrows shoot up.

“Be back by eleven.” Dad turns his back on me, heading toward his own bedroom.

“Eleven? I’m eighteen and
now
you’re giving me a curfew?”

“But Karen’s not,” he calls over his shoulder. “And she has practice in the morning.”

Fine. We’ll be back at eleven. That gives us five hours. It’s better than nothing.

CHAPTER FIVE
KAREN

“S
o whose party is this again?” I follow Jordan and Tony through a big house, out to a giant backyard, complete with swimming pool and hot tub, not to mention at least fifty teenagers. “And is everyone from your school rich?”

I should talk. I’ve got a big empty house worth at least six hundred thousand that I need to pack up and sell.

“Her name is Audrey,” Tony says, “but I have no idea where she is.”

“And I’d say about ninety percent of the student body has a home of similar size.” Jordan glances over his shoulder, smiles at me, then reaches for my hand. “School tuition is like twenty thousand a year, so it goes with the territory.”

My preparation for this party was limited to thirty minutes—nearly fifteen of those minutes were devoted to blow-drying my long thick hair after jumping in the shower and then throwing on jean shorts, a tank top, and a little lip gloss. Luckily, half the people here are in swimsuits and dripping wet.

Jordan and I spend a good half hour walking around while he introduces me to various students and I try not to yawn. I’m not bored, just tired. I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours thanks to a very long and noisy flight. Finally, after we’ve chatted with almost everyone, Jordan grabs a pool lounge chair and drags it way out in the grass, away from the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I see Tony poolside, half listening to a group of guys around him, but mostly preoccupied with his phone.

“Is he texting someone, or what?” I ask, nodding toward Jordan’s giant best friend.

Jordan gives me his dimpled smile, brown eyes sparkling in the near-dark evening. “He won’t tell me. But earlier I peeked at his phone when he got up to go to the bathroom and might have glimpsed the name Paul.”

“Huh.” I glance back at Tony again. He’s definitely got that all-consuming-more-than-casually-absorbed look on his face. “Where did he meet Paul?”

“Don’t know.” Jordan tugs me down onto the chair with him and then slides my backpack off my shoulder and sets it between us. “I’m more interested in finding out why you had to lug this bag with you tonight. I didn’t know about the pool, which means you didn’t. So, it can’t be a swimsuit in there, right?”

I hug the bag to my chest before he can try and open it and ruin the surprise. “Graduation and birthday presents for you. And I couldn’t let your dad see.”

He leans back against the chair, relaxing and looking so good my stomach is fluttering all over again. Three weeks apart and I’m almost as nervous and fumbling as the first day I met him.
Okay, maybe not that nervous
. I remove a maroon and white hooded sweatshirt with Stanford embroidered across the front. I’d ordered it online while I was in Brazil and Jordan was graduating without any family here to see him.

He takes the sweatshirt from me, his forehead wrinkling. “You didn’t want my dad to see this?”

I hide a smile and watch him pull the hoodie over his head. “Nope, not that present.” I remove a very long Team USA basketball jersey from my bag. “I know how you worship Charles Patterson and we weren’t ever at a press conference with the basketball team in Brazil, but right after a training session, I saw them come into the arena and head for their locker room. Which was way more posh than ours, in case you were wondering. They had maids and caterers.” I shake my head. “So unfair.”

Jordan’s looking the jersey over, his eyes wide with amazement and I know right then that sneaking away from my group and having Blair stand watch was totally worth the lashing I’d have gotten if Nina or Bentley had caught me.

“I was just planning on having him sign a game program or something,” I continued. “It was a last-minute plan, but when I pretended to accidently stumble into the wrong locker room, someone from the team recognized me which caused Charles Patterson to turn around and he recognized me. When I asked for an autograph, he whipped out a jersey, like he had a dozen extras lying around.”

He’s holding the jersey like it’s made of glass, his thumb lightly brushing over the loopy letters of Patterson’s autograph. “Wow… this is so cool.”

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