Why wouldn't she answer?
Why would it say her number has been disconnected?
Could she be upset at me about leaving, or about what we did?
Did she block me after seeing that I’d called a few times in a row?
My stomach sinks as I worry that she sees me as some desperate stalker now.
Fuck.
How could one woman get to my head so much after a lifetime of going through them like candy?
It’s true that she’s not just any woman— she’s Bella— but I’m still disappointed with myself for letting her have this much of an effect on me.
I walk out of the locker room and onto the field. I'm so distracted by my thoughts of Bella that I don't even realize that I'm late. Practice has already started.
"Well, nice of you to join us," my coach snaps angrily, and a couple of the other players laugh.
“Sorry, Coach. Just getting readjusted now that I’m back.”
I take my position, but it's no use. I get hit in the face with the ball and make so many other mistakes. When practice is over, it’s clear that this has been my worst one.
All Coach does is glare at me as I follow my teammates back to the locker room. I know he’s mad that he gave me time off to rest and get my head straight, only to have me return in an even worse mental condition. I can't wait to get out of here.
That same cheerleader who was hounding me before runs after me now.
"Hey, Steve! Glad you're back!" she says.
"Yeah, thanks," I mutter, not in the mood to talk.
"I saw you had a rough practice. Why don't we get together later? Maybe have something to eat, a little drink so we can unwind?" she suggests.
"Yeah, maybe," I mutter, distracted.
I just want her to leave me alone so I can go back to thinking about Bella. But then I tell myself that Bella has clearly moved on and I should try to do the same thing.
"Super! I'll meet you out front in a little while," she says, before running off.
It finally dawns on me that I just accepted a date with her. I'm not keeping that, even though I probably should. All I want is Bella. I shower and change into my sweats fast and sprint out of the locker room.
I leave before the cheerleader can track me down. There's no way I'm going out with anyone except for Bella. I know that would be the smart thing to do but it doesn’t mean that it’s what I want to do, so I won’t.
I go back to my apartment that I'm staying at while training. After hitting my bed, I fall into a deep sleep, dreaming about Bella.
My phone rings early the next morning, waking me up. I scramble to grab it, realizing I hadn’t even bothered to change out of my clothes last night before falling asleep. I’m still in my after-practice sweats. But at least they were comfy enough to sleep in.
"Hello?" I ask eagerly, hoping that it's Bella calling me.
"Ha, you suck. Someone posted your fails at practice the other day. This is the worst video I've ever seen. Dude, what's wrong with you? Maybe you shouldn't be in the NFL," Derek says, as soon as I answer.
I'm stunned that he'd be making fun of me. Of course, it’s probably all in good fun, but he’s usually not this mean even as a joke. I can't think of anything to say in response, but that doesn’t matter because he hangs up on me before I get the chance to, anyway.
I'm left sitting here in shock. Slowly I put my phone away and get out of bed. I need to face the facts. It's time to give up on Bella. I'm not going to hear from her.
She probably changed her number because she doesn't want to hear from me or see me ever again. And it seems she even told her brother so that he’d make it so I never want to see either of them again.
That's fine, I tell myself, although it doesn’t feel fucking fine.