9. Kelly

Kelly

T he person that I'd overheard propositioning Betsy turned around to look at me, a slow smile overtaking her face as she looked me up and down. Instinctively I sucked my belly in, even though there wasn't a lot to suck in. Old habits died hard.

"Hey there, I'm Chris," she said in a flirty tone.

I looked at Betsy over the other woman's shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

"Hi Chris, I was just coming to pick Betsy up for…uh, dinner," I lied, taking a chance that my instinct was right, and Betsy wanted a save.

Or maybe I was wrong, and she wanted to, as Chris said, get lucky.

"It's four-thirty," Chris pointed out, nodding towards the clock on the wall.

"We're like the Golden Girls," Betsy said, walking towards me. "We like to eat dinner early. We'll see you around."

"Do you think that line about getting lucky works on women?" I asked her as we left the gym and by unspoken agreement headed towards the cafeteria. It was a little early, but I was also hungry.

"I don't know," Betsy laughed. "She's cute though."

Not as cute as you, I said in my head.

My mind was still reeling a bit from our argument earlier. When Betsy grabbed my wrist I'd been ready to smack her, at least until I felt her tight little body beneath mine. I'd been hit with a wave of attraction that made me breathless. We'd just laid there staring at each other and I'd come close, so close, to kissing her before I caught myself and left the room to take a walk.

Maybe I was imagining things, but I could have sworn that Betsy looked disappointed when I left. But that was ridiculous. We didn't even like each other.

When we got to the cafeteria we grabbed some food, eating a bit and boxing up the rest to take to our room. As athletes we burned a lot of calories, which gave us a pretty good appetite. I knew there was no way we would eat dinner at four-thirty in the afternoon and not be hungry again later in the evening.

We were both mostly quiet as we ate, but the silence was more contemplative than hostile. After we went back to our room, we settled onto our respective beds to rest up for our game the next day. Betsy watched something on her iPad, I wasn't sure what since she was wearing ear buds, and I read a book on my e-reader until my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.

The next day was a big one. There were five matches in the preliminary round and after playing only one yesterday, we had two today and two tomorrow. All of our focus needed to be on the game, nothing else. We played a game in the morning, which we won, and another one in the afternoon, which we lost.

It was a little more activity than I was used to, and by the time we were all heading back to our rooms I was exhausted. Betsy and I both took a quick shower – separately of course – then went to bed early.

The next day was a repeat of the day before, with one game in the morning and one later in the day. We won both of them, which meant our team was moving onto the quarter finals.

"We get to stay in Paris," I said happily as Betsy and I walked into our room. "I'm so excited to see the sights."

"You haven't even seen Paris," she reminded me. "We've been here the whole time."

"I'm still absorbing the atmosphere, and after we win our medal, I plan to do some serious sightseeing."

"Is this your first time here?" she asked. It was the first time she'd ever really asked me anything about myself.

"I would have thought someone like you would have traveled the world," she added.

"Someone like me?" I asked in confusion.

"Rich. Spoiled."

I laughed so hard I had to sit down on my bed so I wouldn't fall over.

"What on Earth makes you think I'm rich?" I asked.

Betsy looked confused. "You always have your hair done and wear nice clothes."

"So looking put together makes me seem rich?" I asked in confusion.

"And you have a rich girl vibe."

"A rich girl vibe?" I asked, still chuckling. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Snobby. Better than everyone."

"You're one to talk," I rejoined. "But just for the record, I grew up in a very middle class family and I've lived on my own since my parents kicked me out when I was sixteen. I went to college on a volleyball scholarship. I had to give up my apartment to come here, because I have no way to pay the rent when I get back."

"I don't understand." She looked genuinely confused.

"I work in sales. If I don't work, I don't make commissions, and if I don't get commissions, I don't get paid. I live in a crappy studio over a hair salon. Or at least I did," I corrected myself, trying not to think about my impending housing issues. "Coming to the International Games is my own Cinderella story, but once we leave here, my carriage turns into a pumpkin, and I go back to being broke and homeless. And that's assuming that my boss didn't replace me while I've been gone like he threatened to."

God, I really needed to find a better job. I'd let inertia keep me in this low-paid position for way too long.

Betsy was just staring at me now.

"Next time you assume someone is snobby, you might consider that they're shy and used to having people judge them, just like you did."