Zenon's Game Chapter 175

My nerves were rattling me like a chilly day.

I held onto my math notes until my thumb smudged the ink. Joe told me to type them up, but I didn't listen. Now I had wrinkled, smudged notes.

Today had been a struggle. A real elephant training to use a tricycle type of struggle.

I barely had any sleep last night and I didn't make my daily pilgrimage to the Coffee Bean this morning. What a sin.

I was worried of competing against other mathletes. I was scared I'd be making a fool of myself... the raccoon knows it wouldn't be the first time.

A minute or two later, my phone rang and I was surprised to hear his voice on the other end, "Candy, where are you?"

"Aren't you meant to be in class?" I asked, still surprised it was him.

"I'm taking a bathroom break," he answered, "A very long one. So, where are you?"

"The cafeteria."

I saw Zenon walk through the wide cafeteria doors, exuding his natural confidence. He flashed a smile when he saw me, and it calmed me right down.

I tried not to smile at what his teacher will think of Zenon's long bathroom break... would she know he was ditching or think he was very constipated?

Zenon walked over and sat across from me, sliding my notes towards himself.

I almost pinched myself to stop staring. It strikes me sometimes how perfect he looks to me. His lips that easily rise into a smile. His gentle eyes that betray more emotion than he every would want them to.

"How can I help?" he offered, lifting his hoodie.

The pull of his hoodie lifted his shirt and I saw a glimpse of his flat stomach before his white shirt fell back loosely over his body.

"Are you good at math?" I asked in return.

He laughed.

So that's a no.

"I'm filling out my physical evaluation form," I told him, "I need to submit a new form since I'm rejoining the club."

"Physical?" he repeated, "Isn't that for athletes?"

"The school technically considers us a sport," I mumbled, embarrassed by how ridiculous that sounded, "Mathletes have the word 'athlete' in their name."

"That's insulting," Zenon commented.

He reached out to hold my hand in his and his thumb rubbed my skin in a circular motion.

"You can copy mine then," Zenon smirked, "Anything I have, you have now anyway."

"Hey!" I threw my pen at him.

"Let's skip to the s*e*x*u*al history part," Zenon smirked, his blue eyes scanning the page, "We haven't had that conversation yet anyway. I think now's a perfect time."

My s*e*x*u*al history? His?

I hid my trepidation behind an overly confident response, "You're right, we haven't and now is as perfect as any. Let's start with you. When was the first time you did it and how many times since?"

Zenon practically froze over. His eyes glanced up from the sheet and into my eyes, "You're serious?"

"Yes," I said, but the smile that spread across face gave me away.

I swear I could see a little color rise to Zenon's cheeks. I blush beetroot but his is very subtle. He changed subject.

"Have you ever passed out during exercise," Zenon read the questions top down, and answered for me, "Yes. Next. Does your heart ever race or skip beats during exercise? It depends. Does making out with me count as exercise?"

I rolled my eyes and ticked no to these questions.

Zenon skipped a few questions and read out, "Have you ever spent the night in the hospital? That feels specific. You should footnote that yes with a disclaimer. Annika's pressing charges so lawsuit pending."

I hid another smile behind my hand. I hadn't even realized but a few minutes with Zenon had wiped all my nerves away. My nerves had been replaced with that familiar feeling of butterflies in my stomach.

"Enough of this," he said, putting the paper aside now that he was bored. He stood up and came to sit next to me, "I want to take you somewhere special. After the competition, one night this week."

I gulped, wondering what he had in mind. "Where to?"

"Now that's a surprise," he answered.

Our knees brushed as he sat down, putting an arm over my shoulder. He kissed me on the cheek and as I turned towards him, his lips landed on mine. My arms wrapped themselves around his neck and my chest pressed against him. He squeezed me tighter, pressing me harder against his hard body. Our kiss deepened, the passion building until a teacher came and told us off.

When Zenon left me, I felt the tension rise up again.

The last thing he'd done was kiss me on the lips and say, "Confidence boosts performance. Psych yourself up before the competition, Candy. You got this."

I tried to hype myself up in the changing rooms. I watched Al Pacino's speech in Any Given Sunday and listened to Eye of the Tiger in the bathroom stall. I changed into my mathlete team shirt and walked out to the auditorium where the teams were gathering.

Our team spirit was at an all time low. Last time I'd seen them was when Zenon's fist had collided into Kaden.

Kaden. It made my stomach turn to think I'd have to see him again.

I wish I'd asked Zenon for more tips on how to compete in front of people. What does he do to calm himself before a game?

The theater curtains had been drawn apart and three small desks were in center stage for the competitors to use. On stage left, a podium had been set up for the for the quiz master.

"Joe, Toby, Candace," the team captain called us over, "Come over here. Kaden too."

OK, we were in a team huddle. I didn't have high hopes for this.