I set my phone down and stand from my bed. I slip on a pair of sandals and a hoodie, flip the hood over my head, and grab my wallet. There’s a convenience store just outside of the hotel. Maybe if I grab myself a snack and a drink, that will clear my mind.
With a key card in hand, I head out of my hotel room and walk toward the elevator just as Posey rounds the corner. His hair is disheveled, and his shoulders are completely slumped.
“Hey,” I say, causing him to look up.
Surprised to see me, he pauses and then asks, “Where are you going?” He glances around. “Dude, please don’t tell me you’re headed down to the bar.”
The bar is where all the single guys on the team go given all the ladies know what hotel we’re staying at and where to find us if we’re looking for some fun.
“Do you really think I’d do that?”
“I don’t know. You’re in a weird headspace.”
“I could say the same about you.”
I’m not the only one on the team acting weird. I know the weight of our losses doesn’t rest solely on my shoulders because I’m not the only one struggling. And it’s showing right now, with the etch in Posey’s brow and the droop in his normally uplifting demeanor.
He moves his hand through his hair. “I’ll be fine.”
“You made me talk about my shit,” I say. “Maybe we should talk about yours.”
He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.”
“Were you downstairs at the bar?”
“No. I went for a walk.” His eyes meet mine. “Catching feelings is bullshit.” He moves past me, but I press my hand to his chest, halting him.
Catching feelings? Where the fuck is this coming from?
“Dude, who do you have feelings for?” I wrack my brain for a clue, anyone he might have run into, fucking anything, but I’m coming up short, and I can’t be sure if it’s because he hasn’t said much to me or because I’ve been so caught up in my life, that I haven’t been paying attention.
Maybe a bit of both.
“Nothing we need to worry about. It’s probably just a stupid crush that I’ll get over. Just drop it.”
“Posey—”
“Seriously, Eli, drop it.” And there it is, my first name. Whenever we pull that out, we know it’s serious.
“Okay, but if you need me, you can talk to me. I know I’m going through my own shit, but I’m here for you.”
“I know,” he says. “I appreciate that. And you swear, you’re not about to do something stupid?”
“I was going to grab a drink and a snack, but now I’m thinking maybe not. Is it crawling with people in the lobby?”
“There’s no way you’ll be able to walk a few steps without being bombarded. Try the vending machine.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I start walking toward the vending machines when he calls out to me, “Hey, Hornsby?”
“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder.
“I have a bad feeling about tomorrow.”
“Yeah . . . I think everyone does.”
He slowly nods and walks away.
