Chapter 105 ELLIOT

Chapter 105 ELLIOT
ELLIOT’S POV
Like the world’s fastest stopwatch, the rest of the week zipped past me in a blurry haze of practice, classes, training, homework, and more practice. 
Weston was put on compulsory rest for a week, and spent most of his time at the gym, and haunting the room with his restless energy when he wasn’t there or in a class. I didn’t see either Mason or Armand at training, and I wondered if they’d been suspended while Weston hadn’t. 
It was pretty hard training for the semi when we were four men down, but Coach made it work—mostly by making it everyone else’s problem. 
Weston and I circled each other in a sort of awkward, nonconfrontational bubble, where we didn’t speak to each other unless we had absolutely no choice, and it was usually short and non personal; very similar to our dynamic at the start of the school year. 
It was suffocating, and every time I stepped into the room, it was a struggle not to run back out. 
On Thursday, I had a particularly difficult meeting with the scholarship board, where I had to sign a waiver that ensured if the compliance hearing didn’t end well, or if I was not cleared of all legal hangups, they reserved the rights to review my scholarship and adjust it as they deemed fit. 
Even if it meant a total or partial reversal of all my scholarship benefits. 
After, I returned to my dorm room in a daze, and as soon as I stepped in, I rushed to the bathroom and heaved my guts out into the toilet. 
That was where Weston found me half an hour later, still curled on the cold bathroom tile, arms around my knees and my head on the closed toilet lid. He walked in, hand already undoing his sweats and he froze immediately at the sight of me. 
He took a step back and raised one brow. 
“Are you drunk?” he asked carefully, chancing a glance at the clock. “It’s only 6pm.”
“No.” I groaned, rolling my head against the cold plastic. 
“Are you…” he wrinkled his nose and stepped back, “sick?”
“No.” I sniffed, pushing myself upright. I rolled my head and met his gaze with my bleary ones, hating the way my eyes stung. I blinked hard and dropped my gaze, stretching my legs out in front of me and staring down at the tiles. 
I probably looked absolutely pathetic, but I didn’t care. 
Weston cleared his throat, and I watched as he shifted from one foot to the other. “I really need to pee,” he said finally. 
I sniffed again and shifted slightly away, giving him space to stand in front of the toilet. He pinned me with an odd look, staying where he was. “You’re not leaving?”
I glanced up at him. “Why?”
“Privacy.”
I scoffed, rubbing at the corner of my eye. “I’m not gonna look.” I grumbled, “And it’s not like I haven’t seen it already.”
Weston stuttered, furrowing his brows even as he flushed, and if anything, it was nice to see him disoriented for a change. After a moment where he just stood and stared at me, he rubbed at his hair with a sigh and crossed over my legs.
It was really awkward having to sit there and listen to him pee, and I questioned why I’d insisted on sitting less than a foot away while he did his business. But then I remembered the compliance hearing was tomorrow, and my stomach lurched yet again. 
Behind me, I heard the toilet flush, and Weston was crossing over my legs again. He got to the door and stopped. I stared at his back; broad beneath his gym shirt and practically willed him to turn back around. 
And he did. 
He looked at me like it was taking him insane effort to not bolt out of here and I stared back, hating the way his face still made my insides flutter in ways that had nothing to do with my nausea, even with all the bruising around his nose. 
“Get up.” he said eventually, sounding almost resigned. “I’m going for a run by the beach. You’re coming with me.”
“What?” I blinked once. “Why are you going for a run? You just got back from the gym.”
“I’m building endurance,” he cleared his throat, glancing away briefly. “You should too. Semi-finals will be here in no time, and we need to impress those scouts.”
“You need to impress them.” I grumbled, even though I was already pushing to my feet. “I’m only a freshman. I’ve still got plenty of years to do that.”
“The earlier the better, Albuquerque.” He dragged his gaze over me from head to toe once I stood in front of him, and I bit down on my bottom lip instinctively. His gaze caught it, and he glanced away sharply, clearing his throat. 
“Change and meet me downstairs, I’ll get us an Uber.”
It only occurred to me when I was standing on the curb next to him and waiting for the Uber that he never did drive again after we got into that accident. He had enough money to get the car fixed or replaced, but I hadn’t seen him with another since then. 
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, but he was frowning down at his phone. 
The Uber was there a moment later, and half an hour later, I was collapsing into the sand after a half hearted attempt to sprint. But I was tired, and a ball of anxiety. 
My view of the sky was obstructed soon enough by Weston’s scowling face. He was so tall from this angle; hands on his hips and looking stern, but I wished he had on shorts, so I’d at least have a better view from down here. 
It might’ve cheered me up a little. 
“Very disappointing attempt, Albuquerque.” He tsked, “You can’t be rookie of the year with this attitude.”
I laughed at that, it was a bitter, humorless thing. “After tomorrow, I might not get to be a rookie anymore.” I sucked in a shuddering breath, “Or ever.”
He cocked a brow. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
I sniffed, burying my toes in the sand as I pushed myself to sit. “You probably remember Arizona.”
“Yeah.” he drawled, lowering himself next to me on the sand. There was a foot of space between us, but I was hyperaware of his presence regardless. “This has to do with that asshole ex of yours?”
“Robby’s not my ex.” I grumbled, “But yeah. I have to face him at my compliance hearing tomorrow and you broke his nose with a bat last winter.”
Weston winced at the reminder. “Right, my bad.”
“It’s okay, it was hot.” I sighed, drawing my knees up to my chest and burying my face between them. 
Weston stayed quiet next to me for what felt like hours. Eventually, he pushed to his feet and I was forced to look up at him. 
“Do you want to go get drunk?” 
I’d show up to court hungover. It was a bad idea. 
I nodded once. “Yes.”