“No. I don’t want you to go.” I hurdled over the bed, blocking her way. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I needed to shut up. Because maybe that’s exactly what I’d meant. Maybe that’s why I’d done it.
Her head tilted and her eyes were wet. “It’s okay. I needed the reminder that I’m not fourteen.” She gestured between us. “I just keep getting pulled back to high school. But we aren’t those kids. We’re not in love anymore.”
Speak for yourself, I wanted to say. But I had no business making statements like that when I couldn’t even remember why we’d broken up.
I carefully put my hand on her arm. “Please stay. We can just hang out. Watch a movie.Remember the Titansis on.” I tried to smile. “It’s your favorite.”
She hugged herself, shrinking away from me. “I haven’t watched that in over four years. It’syourfavorite. I just loved how you always got your dance on when ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ played.” She forced a smile. “Truly terrible rhythm.”
I had to make her laugh. I couldn’t stand the hurt in her eyes. So I stepped back and faked shock, stabbing myself in the heart with an invisible dagger. Then I fell onto the bed, which made my head throb. But I was committed. So I shivered and shook, kicking my feet spastically, until I closed my eyes, and played dead.
She reached over and pried one of my eyelids open. My hands shot out, pulling her on top of me, making her squeal.
Then I clutched her to me, looking up into those beautiful eyes. “Watch Titans with me?”
She rolled off and flopped onto her back. “S-sure,” her voice shook, but the hurt was still there. At least she wasn’t leaving. She scooted against the back of the inclined mattress.
My hands quivered but I picked up the remote and found the movie. Then I situated myself next to her, hopeful that in a few minutes she’d let me touch her again. It took me thirteen long minutes to find the nerve to hold the hand of the girl I’d just made out with. But I finally hooked my pinky around hers.
I shouldn’t have.
Her hand was limp, no sign of life anywhere.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered. “I need to use the bathroom.” Then she got up and went. My gut hurt, it was clenched so tight.
As soon as the door shut, I scrambled for my phone. I’d hardly touched it since the accident. Between Anna, the doctors, my coaches, and my family here, I hadn’t had time or even cared to be on it. Who would I text anyway? I didn’t remember anyone. But now, I was a man on a mission.
There were more than fifty texts from all kinds of people whose names I didn’t recognize. There was Stilts. A bunch of guys who were maybe on the team with me. Lacy’s name gutted me. A bunch of other people I didn’t have time to figure out. But then I saw a Silas Dupree. I clicked on his messages since he shared the same last name as Anna.
Silas Dupree
Hey, Blue, I know you want to keep Anna there with you, but I’d like you to encourage her to come home so she can attend her classes in person.
“Yeah. Not happening, dude,” I muttered.
Silas Dupree
By the way, this is Anna’s uncle.
Sorry about the head injury. We’re all praying that you recover quickly.
I scrolled up. Okay. Weird. So Anna and I hadn’t spoken in four years. But a quick read-through told me her Uncle and I hadn’t lost touch. At all. And he liked me, watched all of my games, and had great feedback and encouragement.
The flush of the toilet reminded me why I’d hopped on my phone in the first place. I swiped to Instagram.
I didn’t like what I found.
The past year was pretty dead, but after that it was girls. Girls, girls, girls. With some football mixed in. But mostly girls. A different one every few weeks. At the very least. Who the freak was I? Not the love-sick fool completely twitterpated with Anna.
Farther down, that Lacy chick was interspersed with the other girls. Was I dating other people while I dated her? Had I entered a Who’s the Biggest A-hole contest? What was even happening?
I scrubbed a hand over my face. I could figure it out later. I kept scrolling—straight past two years worth of pictures of only Lacy and me. I looked low-key miserable in every one of them. In the middle was a picture of me signing with Knoxville. Even then I didn’t stop. Nope. I didn’t care about anything or anyone but finding Anna.
When I found her, my breath caught in my throat. I was right. I’d been crazy about her. Posted screenshots of our FaceTime’s at least once a week. The look on my face when I was talking to her told me I’d loved her. Intensely. Completely opposite of me with Lacy. I scrolled back up, looking at the dates. My last screenshot with Anna was dated December 4th of my Junior year of high school. Three days later, there was a picture of me and this Lacy girl.
Lacy and I were dressed up fancy. At some kind of hotel banquet. I was holding a trophy, wearing a suit. Oh, it was the end-of-the-season awards ceremony. She had on a slinky red dress, with a slit to her thigh. She was hanging on my arm, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I had my hand draped around her waist, too low, basically grabbing her butt. I was smiling but there was a hurt in my eyes. I was faking for the camera. For a guy who’d just received some kind of award, I didn’t look very happy about it.
Did I cheat on Anna? Is that the part she’d left out? My stomach churned at the thought.
