Unscripted - Nicole Kronzer Page 0,75

morning person?”

I closed my eyes. “Nope.”

“Hey,” he whispered. “I miss you. Weren’t we going to start those kissing lessons?”

I stood up so fast, I knocked over my chair with a bang.

A collective “whoa” gave way to silence. Neither Ben nor I moved. But as people realized it was only a chair, they slowly returned to their eating and chattering. However, the noise had also drawn the attention of my coffee cake glutton friends, and they rushed back to our table.

“Ready to go on that hike?” Paloma chirped, scooping up and righting my chair. Will looked ready to pound Ben. Jonas stepped in front of Will, a human barrier between my brother and his target.

“Yup. Let’s go,” I said and swept up my bag.

“I’ll be around for . . . extra rehearsal if you change your mind,” Ben said. His voice sounded sincere, but I knew what he really meant. I spun away from Ben and strode out of the noise of breakfast into the hall by the stairs. The others followed, and Jonas closed the door behind us.

“I’m going to find the Pauls,” I announced. Even with just those words, I felt a little freer.

Will put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said.

I shook him off. “Nope. Alone. I don’t want a huge . . .” I waved my hands around searching for the right word. “Ordeal. I’m just going to tell my story and ask for him to be removed. Maybe one of the Pauls can take over.”

“Hold on!” Sirena caught my elbow. “Strength in numbers. Right?”

I met Sirena’s unwavering brown eyes. Part of me wanted her steadiness with me as I faced the Pauls, but . . . “I’m the one who’s been in that room the whole time,” I said, squeezing her arm back. “I appreciate your support, but I’ve got to do this on my own.”

Sirena and Paloma exchanged skeptical glances. I pretended not to see them.

“Are you sure?” Emily asked, blinking quickly.

“The time for talk is over,” Hanna said, smacking her fist into her open palm. “I say we take the industrial tubs of mayonnaise from the kitchen, sneak into the Varsity cabin, replace their shampoo—”

I cracked a smile and touched Hanna’s shoulder. “I’m going,” I said. “I’ll find you after.” I gave them a bracing nod, waited until they filed back into the dining area of the Lodge, and marched down the hall to the Pauls’ office door.

I knocked. A deep voice called out, “Come in!”

Paul Paulsen was perched at an old metal desk that mirrored another—presumably Paul DeLuca’s. P2’s desk enjoyed a neat army of binders, a plastic Chicago Cubs tumbler doubling as a pencil cup, and an old laptop. It contrasted starkly with Paul DeLuca’s desk, which was covered in stacks of files, well-thumbed books, and an array of used coffee mugs.

Paul Paulsen ran a hand over his balding head and gave me a knowing smile. “Hi. Ellie, right? What can I do for you?”

I looked around for Paul DeLuca, which was silly, considering how small the office was. Did I think he was hiding in a filing cabinet or something?

I had imagined this meeting with both of them there. Should I come back?

“Want a seat? Some water?” Paul Paulsen asked.

Suddenly, I was too nervous to say anything. What was I doing?

“Uh . . .” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I sat in the proffered folding chair, but shook my head at the water.

“You know what we say here,” he said, pouring water from a pitcher into a glass, “Pee clear!”

I forced a smile. “I remember.” I took the water to appease him.

“Tell me, Ellie,” Paul Paulsen said, sitting back in his chair, elbows on his knees. “What can I do for you?”

“Well.” I coughed, then took a sip of the water. Paul smiled with his eyebrows as if to say, “See? Told you!”

I cleared my throat and straightened my spine. I’m here, I decided. I might as well just get it over with. “I’m here . . . I’m here to talk to you about . . . Ben.”

Paul smiled kindly. “Ben said you might come by to talk about that.”

My eyebrows shot up.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you have a little crush on Ben?”

I flew back in my chair, which squeaked. “What? No! I—well, I did, I think, but—”

“It’s perfectly natural to develop crushes at your age.” Now his smile seemed patronizing. “But we discourage that sort of thing between coaches and team members.”

“I know,”