“My guess would be Posey since he used his name in there. Hornsby is probably freaking out because he looks like an utter fool in these text messages and doesn’t know how to handle you.”
“Handle me? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. Out of everyone on the team, who is the most extroverted?”
“Eli,” I say, not even questioning the answer.
“Exactly. He’s the one who should have no problem striking up a conversation, but for some reason, interacting with you is crippling him into a fumbling mess. It’s kind of funny to observe from the outside. But I think it’s safe to assume that he’s probably freaking out like you are and asked Posey to help him, just like you’re asking me to help you.”
“Okay, so then . . . what do I say?”
She rolls her eyes so hard I’m afraid they might fall out of her head. “Tell him how you’re feeling. My God, woman. What is wrong with you?”
“The baby,” I say. “It’s sucking all of the intelligence out of me.”
“I’m not sure that’s how pregnancy works.”
“How would you know? Are you pregnant?” I challenge her with a wave of arrogance.
“No, and I don’t plan on finding out.” She points at my phone. “Now message him back. Tell him how you feel.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
On a deep breath, I text him back. When I’m satisfied with my reply, I press send.
“Done.”
“What did you say?”
I read my text message out loud. “Feeling kind of weird, you know, with everything. So I thought that maybe when you come back from your away trip, you should move out.”
“What?” Blakely’s eyes shoot open. “You sent that?”
Panic ensues. “Wait, what do you mean? You told me to tell him how I felt.”
“Like . . . physically, not mentally. Oh, my God, I can’t believe you told him you want him to move out right before a game.”
My mouth shrivels up into a small pea-sized “o” as my eyes widen in horror. “Oh God, why did I text that?”
“I don’t know!”
“Maybe he didn’t read it, or better yet, maybe he’s relieved . . .”
* * *
**ELI**
“Holy fuck,Posey, wake up. Wake up.” I shake my friend, who was mid-snore when I charged through his door again.
He whips his mask off his face. “I am going to murder you.”
“This is bad.” I sit on his bed and hold my phone up to him. “She wants me to leave. You texted her, and now she wants me out of the apartment. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“What?” He rubs his palm over his eye. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. I didn’t write anything after your text. Dude, if she wants me to leave, that’s bad. Pacey will not like finding out that I’m not helping her. He already won’t talk to me. Now this?” I pull at my hair. “What the fuck do I do?”
“I’m still trying to figure out how this escalated so quickly. That was a simple question.”
