* * *
The next day, the team gave an off day to everyone. Even the players.
As I slump in the chair, biting into the toast I prepared, an overwhelming sense of loneliness sweeps over me like a tide. Lost in thoughts, I sip on my coffee only for it to burn a path down my throat.
Hurting, I drop the mug on the table and make haste to get myself a glass of water as I blow on my burnt tongue. Slamming the glass down on the kitchen counter, I mutter a curse under my breath. “Fuck.”
Side-stepping the counter, I sit at my dining table with five other empty seats as they accusingly stare at me for not using them.
Once done with my breakfast, I head into my home office. This room looks more like mine than the one in the company building. I could never decorate it with personal items and photos lest anyone make the connection between Roman and me.
So, I made sure to have an office at home. Though sometimes I regret having bought such a huge Victorian house just for myself. The vastness of it unsettles me, reminding me that I have no friends. And those that I have arecolleagues. With a sigh, I admire my baby pink and white colored walls and slide into my chair.
A very few people who found out that my favorite color is pink were surprised to find that out about me, to say the least. Said that I don’t strike as someone who would prefer the shade.
So, instead of being judged for my choices and preferences at every turn, I chose to hide them away from the world, like everything else about me. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to share my real self with someone and not be judged for it.
Not wanting to dwell down a depressive road, I open my laptop and get to work. I love designing and content creation. It helps me be creative and bring to life the ideas that live inside of me.
Cueing a playlist on my phone filled with all sorts of songs from pop to country, I pour myself into editing and working with shots and clips Jodi and I took of Ezra. I also schedule some posts from yesterday’s event on all our social media channels, some later than the others.
I’ve found that when I schedule a post on a couple of channels and the same post on other channels for the team for a later time, the content gets more traction and the buzz about it stays for longer than usual.
Once done and pressing the sleep button of my laptop for today, I lean back in my chair and stretch my limbs with a tired sigh. Cracking my neck, I pick up my phone to check the time. It’s one in the afternoon. Damn, I’ve been at it for four hours straight.
I walk into the living room and pick up an apple from the fruit basket on the dining table.
Plopping onto the couch with it, I turn on my phone and surf through any pending messages and emails, biting into the fruit in between. Once I’m done responding to everyone, I open up my Instagram.
Scrolling down, I like the posts of people I follow, and some suggested posts. My fingers halt the moment I reach a picture of Ezra. It was posted a couple of weeks ago.
In it, he sits on the edge of a jacuzzi–because, of course, he has one–in his swim shorts as his naked torso reflects the natural light. He raises a drink to his lips as his wet clothes leave nothing to the imagination.
His soaked hair and dripping water droplets on his body only making him more enticing while he shows off his stacked figure in thesetting sun. This man is so fine it’s criminal.
I stare at his thick thighs for longer than I should and end up tapping the screen of my phone. “Shit, fuck, no!” I jump up on the floor, the finished apple core falling on the ground, as the red heart pops up on my screen, indicating that I liked it.
“Goddamn it, Kaeli!!! What will you do now?” I yell at myself in my empty home, as my hold on the phone tightens and my eyes squeeze shut. I can’t even un-like it, or I’ll come across a coward.
Pacing the length of my living room floor, I ponder how to get out of it. I suddenly halt when a thought comes to mind. He might not even find out. I mean, he’s such a busy and famous player, and I’m sure he doesn’t have time to check every like on his posts, if he even does it himself.
“Yes, Kaeli. That’s it. You’re good.” Convincing myself, I drop on the couch again. Just as I do, a notification from the devil himself lights up on my screen, and I again jump off the couch.
“Fuck! What do I do now?” I wonder aloud. God, this is a mess. No matter how much I want to, I can’t even ignore him, or he’ll think I’m hiding from him. With a deep breath andcalming my racing heart a little, I turn on the phone and open his message.
Ezra: You stalking me now, Feather?
Me: Ah, you wish.
I regret it the moment I press send. “What the hell does it even mean, Kaeli?” I mumble to myself, slumping back on the couch.
Three dots appear, and I bite my lip in anticipation.
I have no idea why he calls me ‘Feather’, yet my heart stutters at the thought that he gave me a nickname, the intention, though unclear.
It takes a full three minutes for him to finally respond, not that I’m counting or anything. No, not me.
Ezra: You’ve no idea how much and then some more.
