Pep Talks (Pepper Jones Book 4) Read online

  Pep Talks

  (Pepper Jones Series, Book #4)

  By Ali Dean

  Editor: Leanne Rabesa

  http://editingjuggernaut.wordpress.com

  Cover: Sarah Foster

  http://sprinklesontopstudios.com

  Chapter 1

  “Dude, if you finish everything on your tray, I’ll be super impressed,” Lexi tells me as we settle around a large circular table with the rest of our cross country teammates. “Or totally freaked out. I haven’t decided yet.”

  It’s my first meal at Chapman Hall, the cafeteria at University of Colorado at Brockton reserved for athletes only. And there were simply too many choices for dinner; I couldn’t decide. So I’ve chosen some of just about everything. My tray must weigh at least ten pounds.

  “Let the girl fuel up, we’ve got triple workouts tomorrow,” Kiki Graves says. She’s co-captain of the cross team along with Sienna Darling, who hosted me for my recruit trip last fall.

  “No worries, guys, you won’t have to roll me outta here. I’m just going to take a little sample of everything,” I explain with a shrug.

  “That’s wasteful,” Gina points out. She’s one of my three roommates and I got the impression that she dislikes me from the moment I met her. Well, I guess we met during my recruit trip last year, but I don’t remember her being cold then. Since arriving at the dorm suite early this morning to move in, she hasn’t been especially friendly. I haven’t decided if that’s just her personality, or if there’s something special about me.

  “I won’t make it a habit, Gina.” She does make a decent point. “Promise.”

  Gina scowls before returning to her salad. Lexi raises her eyebrows and glances at me in question. Like, what did you do to piss her off? Shrugging, I decide to dig into the roast beef first, and discover it’s dry as sandpaper.

  Lexi giggles at my expression. “I should’ve warned you to stay away from the meat dishes.” Lexi Morris is a California girl, through and through. Her blonde curly hair is barely contained by a ponytail and she’s rocking a deep summer tan with a spattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks to top it off. We hit it off at the recruit trip last fall and I was beyond thrilled to learn she’d be one of my roommates this year. Gina and Lexi are sophomores, but our fourth roommate is a freshman like me.

  I haven’t gotten a good read on Caroline Hopkins yet. She’s the last one to join the table. There are twelve of us seated around the large circular table, and I suppose we’ll have to divide the team over two tables when the rest of them arrive. There are eighteen total on the roster this year, and the remaining six won’t get here until tomorrow.

  “Ladies, what’s this all about?” a guy asks as he hovers by our table with a tray. “You didn’t save us any seats?”

  “Go away, Brax.” Kiki flicks her hand in a shooing gesture. “Girls only at this table tonight. We’re bonding,” she says dryly.

  “Where are we supposed to sit?” Brax asks.

  Kiki tilts her head, refusing to respond to the question, given that there are plenty of open tables.

  Another guy throws an arm around Brax. “There will be plenty of opportunities to flirt with the girls later, man,” he says before steering him to the table where the men’s team is sitting. Brax winks at Lexi as he passes, and she rolls her eyes.

  “He’s the ultimate flirt,” she explains.

  I’ve heard of Brax Hilton. He’s a junior, and a top runner on the team. I’ve never met him before, though, and I certainly don’t know anything about his flirting habits.

  Sienna glances at me and the other four freshmen at the table: Caroline, Wren Jackson, Erin Tokac, and Kendra Smith. Kendra is the only other freshman from Colorado, and we raced each other a few times in high school. “We usually sit with the guys’ team after practice,” Sienna explains. “I don’t know what it was like for all of you in high school, but at UC, the men’s and women’s teams are pretty close. Sure, we compete separately, but we have the same coach and we support each other.”

  I nod along with the other freshmen. It was like that at Brockton Public. While the excitement of my new teammates has provided a welcome distraction, there’s definitely an ache in my chest for my old teammates. Zoe, Rollie, Omar, Jenny… they were my best friends. I know they will always be my friends, but it won’t be the same. Zoe left yesterday for Mountain West, two hours away from UC at Brockton. Omar is going to State, which is even farther away in the southwestern corner of the state. And Rollie is going to college in Boston. Jenny is still in Brockton, and it’s hard to believe she’s a junior, an upperclassman, and co-captain of the Brockton Public cross team. It seems like yesterday she was only a freshman.

  Our goodbye party a couple of days ago involved too much alcohol and tears. Jenny and Rollie started dating months ago, and they are going to try the long-distance thing. Zoe and one of my childhood friends, Wesley Jamison, casually dated for months before Wes left for Princeton last week. Wes never had a girlfriend before Zoe, but I don’t think either of them considered it anything serious, despite how long it lasted. We all knew Wes would be heading to Princeton after his deferral year was up.

  I’m the lucky one in love, I guess. My boyfriend, Jace Wilder, is a sophomore at UC, and he lives within walking distance. After spending his freshman year in the dorms (which is mandatory), he decided to move off-campus with his teammate Frankie Zimmer.

  As though my thoughts have conjured the man himself, I watch Jace Wilder enter Chapman Hall surrounded by an entourage of gigantic football players. In high school, Jace’s six-foot-three frame of solid muscle was a dominating presence, and he’s gotten even stronger and his muscles even bigger since starting college a year ago. His size isn’t especially outstanding compared to his teammates’, but when he breaks away and heads toward our table after catching my eye, it’s hard not to gawk. He’s twice the size of most girls on my team.

  Jace ignores the eleven sets of eyes from the other females at my table as he crouches behind me and kisses me on the cheek in greeting. I turn to face him, and he’s giving me a panty-dropping smile. I’m determined not to be the freshman girl who peaces out all the time to be with her boyfriend, but when he flashes me a grin like this, I’m really tempted to ditch my lonely dorm room tonight for his king-size bed off campus.

  “How’s the first day going?” he asks quietly.

  “You saw me several hours ago, Jace.” I pretend to be annoyed by his attentiveness, but it’s cute. He’s so excited for me to be a college student and he wants me to be happy. “But the first run with my team after you left my dorm room was lovely,” I appease him.

  “Should I introduce myself now?” he asks. He almost sounds tentative, and it’s adorable on him. He is an extremely confident young man. And it’s not a false confidence either. It’s what makes him such a good quarterback. It’s how he led UC to the championship finals as a freshman after the team hadn’t even made the playoffs for years.

  Before I can pipe up, Lexi, who is sitting beside me, eagerly replies, “Hi Jace Wilder, I’m Lexi Morris, Pepper’s roommate.” She waves and I frown at her.

  “Hi Lexi, we already met this morning at the dorm,” Jace reminds her, amusement in his voice.

  She shrugs. “I know, dude, but I wanted to make sure you remembered my name. It’s easy to forget the first time around, and me and your girl are gonna be friends so you should most definitely know who I am.”

  As Jace introduces himself to the rest of the table, I get the impression that everyone, even a couple of the freshmen, know who he is already. No one seems particularly shocked that he introduces himself as my boyfriend. It’s old news by now that Jace Wilder is taken, and given how much ti
me I’ve spent with Jace on campus over the past year, it’s no secret that I’m the lucky girl. And I do feel lucky.

  The attention from college girls dwindled when they realized Jace was more interested in football than partying. Though the media didn’t catch wind of all the details behind a catastrophic series of incidents with a girl on the UC soccer team who was obsessed with Jace, there was plenty of gossip around campus. It seems most girls did not want to be called a “Savannah Hawkins” – the girl who attacked me in the name of her so-called love for my boyfriend – and decided to let go of any hope of stealing him away from me. So, in one regard, Savannah did me a favor. I guess. I try to think positively.

  Jace finally leaves the table, after introducing himself to every single girl, and I can’t help but notice the glazed look in my teammates’ eyes as they watch him join the football team at the food stations. I don’t blame them.

  When Sienna blurts, “Hot damn, Pepper, your boyfriend is dreamy,” I can’t suppress my laughter. Sienna has demonstrated a reserved and serious attitude up until now, and those words coming out of her mouth make me crack up. The rest of the girls join me in laughter, but agree with Sienna’s assessment.

  “Right on, Sienna,” Kiki nods emphatically.

  “I’d never seen him up close before,” Trish Getty, a junior, says.

  “Well, we can expect to see a lot of that sexy man with our girl Pepper around, so you ladies better learn to keep your tongues in your mouths,” Lexi states.

  I dig into the veggie lasagna on my plate, which isn’t bad but can’t compare to my gran’s cooking. I’ve actually gotten used to the effect Jace has on people – women in particular. My friends in high school had the same reaction to him for a long time, and it didn’t entirely dissipate as they got to know him better, but it became manageable. It’s taken time, but I’ve learned to deal with his celebrity status in Brockton and on campus. For a while there, I never thought I’d get used to it, but it rolls off me pretty easily now.

  Part of it is that I’ve become confident in who I am. I no longer wonder why Jace picked me, or what others think about our relationship. I know I’m good for him. I make him better, and he brings out a strength in me I didn’t know existed. He helps me find a courage and determination that only comes from unconditional love and understanding. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’ve made it. Against all odds, I won high school cross country nationals last year for the second year in a row. And I don’t know if I could have done that if I hadn’t built the confidence and strength that’s required to be Jace’s girlfriend. Uncertainty, weakness, self-doubt – these things can’t accompany someone like Jace. He attracts a lot of attention, and it’s not always good attention. I had to learn to deal with it. And I have. It’s made me a better runner, and maybe a better person.

  “You are so totally smitten, girl.” Lexi leans in to tease me, and I know I’ve got the dreamy look in my eyes that I just witnessed on my teammates.

  “I’m not denying it.” I shrug before moving on to the next entrée – chicken enchiladas.

  An hour later, the team is still lounging around the table, though none of us are eating anymore. Some have a cup of coffee or tea, but we’re mostly just hanging out to chat and get to know each other. The other teams in Chapman Hall seem to have the same idea, and I wonder if lingering around like this after a meal is common. It’s the first day of preseason, so maybe it’s an exception. I hope not. I like it. It’s nice getting to know the girls for their personalities instead of their running times.

  Kiki is definitely the leader. At least, she’s the more overt leader. Sienna is quiet, but her presence is a strong one. Gina, I discover, is simply a grumpy person. She isn’t all that nice to anyone, which actually makes me feel better that I haven’t been singled out. Trish and Lexi entertain us with their banter, and I’m reminded they were roommates last year. Caroline doesn’t utter a word throughout the meal, but I can tell she’s listening attentively by the way she watches everyone and smiles at the jokes. I’m curious about her, and resolve to get to know her better.

  By the time we get back to the dorms and shower, I’m too exhausted to think about anything but crawling into bed. I’m grateful that my bed is in its own room. Though I have three roommates, it’s a four-bedroom suite – a great layout that is only afforded to varsity athletes. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized what a perk it is be able to go to sleep when I want to, a luxury other freshmen won’t have in their double or triple dorm rooms.

  It’s been a day filled with new experiences, and it’s taken all my energy to process. Still, adrenaline runs through me when I turn off the lights and close my eyes. We had an easy group run today, nothing major. But tomorrow is our first real workout, and I’m filled with anticipation.

  Chapter 2

  Coach Harding is just as friendly in coach-mode as he is in father-mode. The UC head cross coach is Ryan Harding’s dad, and Ryan Harding was my first boyfriend during cross season my junior year of high school. Coach Harding welcomed us yesterday, but this morning he gives a more formal speech stating the team goals for the season.

  For the women – qualify as a team for Nationals. For the men – top three at Nationals.

  The women just missed qualifying as a team last year, though they sent Sienna Darling and a senior who graduated to compete individually. The others didn’t race well enough at Regionals to qualify the entire team, but they only missed by one spot.

  Seven runners get to compete at Regionals. Two of our top seven graduated last year, but Coach is confident that with the incoming freshman class and recoveries from injuries, we will be even stronger than last year. Lexi was out with an injury last year, so she’s considered a “redshirt freshman.” She admitted to me that she spent more time surfing than running this summer, but insisted it was only because she didn’t want to reinjure herself. I’m not convinced she meant it though.

  With Coach Harding’s pep talk in mind, and the motivation to not only get the team qualified for Nationals, but to race fast enough to be one of the seven girls who gets to go, we’re all fired up for the very first workout. Running practices break down into a few categories: easy/recovery runs, long runs, and “workouts.” Within a workout, there are a lot of subcategories – track, tempo, speed, hills, and various types of intervals. Today, we’re doing an eight-mile tempo run.

  When Coach Harding announces the workout, I wonder for a moment if I had misheard. Did he seriously say eight miles? Eight miles is a long run for me. Long runs are meant to be done at an easy pace. Tempo runs are at a fast pace. Not a full-out sprint, as it’s over a few miles, but still faster than comfortable. I’ve never done a tempo run longer than four miles before.

  And then, he tells us the pace we start with on the first mile. My jaw drops and I have to make an effort to shut it. Tempo runs usually get faster as you go. The pace for the first mile of an eight, yes eight, mile run, is generally the pace I end a tempo run with. For the first time in my life, I’m scared of a workout. I actually don’t know if I’ll make it to the end. I really don’t think it’s possible for me to continue getting faster each mile, as Coach Harding explains that we should aim to do just that.

  We load into large vans to drive to a road where we’ll begin the run. The boys are dropped off even farther from campus. They are doing a ten-mile tempo run. Some of the other girls on the team, especially the other freshmen, look nervous, and it makes me feel better that I’m not alone.

  All of us stay together for the first few miles, with some of the stronger upperclassmen leading and trading off each mile to set the pace. Coach Harding assigned who would lead each mile until mile six. After that, I guess it’s just whoever is still hanging in there.

  All of the freshmen have taken positions in the back of the group, because none of us were assigned a mile to lead. Their labored breathing around me at mile four signals that I’m not the only one who’s never done an eight-mile tempo run. All five of us w
ere the top runners in our respective high school programs. I’m probably not the only one who is running a workout with girls for the first time in years. I usually ran with the boys at Brockton Public. As we hit the fifth mile, and the pace picks up again, I realize I might be dropped by girls for the first time ever in workout.

  I knew college was a different level, but knowing it and experiencing it are totally different. The team begins to break up during the fifth mile, and I understand why no one was assigned to lead the pace for mile six. Once some of the upperclassmen ahead of us ease up, realizing they can’t hold this pace for three more miles, some of the freshmen beside me slow down as well. They didn’t want to be the first ones to give up. I’m okay, for now, and I pass those who are slowing down in order to keep up with Trish and Gina, who are setting the pace.

  Caroline remains at my side until we hit the last mile. By then, it’s only me, Trish, Sienna, and Kiki. In the past, tempo has meant a controlled effort. But right now, I’ve got to put it all out there to hang with these girls, and I’m pretty sure they are too. It feels like this workout is a test. To see where we all are. Where we stand. And none of us want to back off. We’re teammates but right now we’re competitors. We’re pushing each other, and it’s something I’ve never experienced in practice before. When the three girls leave me in their wake, it’s not the same feeling I would have in a race if I was dropped. I’m not losing. In fact, I’m thrilled to have teammates, female teammates, who are faster and stronger than me.

  It leaves me with something to work toward. And as soon as they finish, panting and wiped, they gather enough energy to cheer in the rest of the girls on the team. Lexi isn’t too far behind, which is impressive for someone who surfed all summer, and Caroline is right with her.

  By the time we hit the locker rooms, I remember that Kiki said we had triple workouts today. She must have been mistaken. There’s no way we can be expected to run again after that. I’m more wiped than I am after a race.