It rings, but rather than coming up as “My Girl,” or the sound of “Ho Hey” instantly lighting up my day, it comes up as just her number. So I text, same thing. What? Ok, so I call her from my phone, it doesn’t ring. I text from my phone, it doesn’t pop up. I scroll through her contacts, I’m in there. It’s the right number and I smile when I see I’m in as “Babe.” My contact picture is one her dad took of us; I’m giving her a piggy back ride out by the pond.
So the problem is my phone...I pull her up, open it, and there ya have it—the number is not her number. So when I called or texted her, it didn’t go to her phone; she never got it. And she didn’t call or text me, because not only was there no text to reply to or ring to answer...she thought I was ignoring her. Oh God, my poor girl thought I had just ended all communication with her. Maybe she was one of those random messages with no contact name that I deleted, thinking they were from a clingy Bulldog Babe. No way I’m opening up that can of worms by asking for clarification though. I slam my fist on the table, knocking over the salt and pepper. Too late salt, the bad luck already hit.
Leaning my elbows on the table, head in my hands, I rub my temples. My head is throbbing and my chest is tight. l can’t get a full, deep breath. Laney must’ve been so hurt and the thought of her hurting makes me see red. More importantly, who the fuck changed her number in my phone? The only person here that Laney and I have in common is...no way, NO! Kaitlyn is Laney’s best friend! WHY would she do this? Yes, we had an awkward morning, but I thought we were cool about it.
Is what I’m about to do creepy? Yes, and I feel like an ass, but I pull up the texts between Kaitlyn and Laney. I want to see if anything in them confirms or refutes my suspicions. I’m really hoping for the latter. Laney adores Kaitlyn and this will cut her deep if true.
Oh fuck.
My whole body starts shaking and I have to swallow the burning acid that shoots up my throat. Please don’t let this actually be happening. I’m so screwed. My sweet, sweet girl had seen this. A picture of me doing a tit shot off some blonde. Kaitlyn sent it the night she was “being a good friend” and got me home safely.
Laney never mentioned it. Laney would never mention it. We broke up, so she thinks I’m entitled to a motorboat with whomever I want and she’ll never go back on her decision. She gave me freedom so we wouldn’t fight, so she won’t berate me about it.
I deserve to have my ass kicked. If I got a picture of some dude’s face shoved in Laney’s cleavage, I’d find him, kill him, and then check myself into an asylum. I couldn’t handle it, and yet, she had. She’d drawn the image, the hurt, the betrayal inside herself and let me go on about my day.
Selflessly.
Staying on the road takes full effort as I drive back to the field to see if Laney’s out yet. I had seen new contacts in her phone and she’s told me about the new people she’s been hanging with at school, but it hurt a little to see four new guys entered. Not nearly as bad as it hurt to think I’d become the slimiest prick she could possibly know.
I slam my truck in park and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. I just want her to come out and let me make everything better. I want to rewind and be lying against her, watching her movies with the smell of her hair all around me and none of this having ever happened. How do I face her? How do I look her in the eye? Do I tell her I know she knows? Do I try to explain? Would she really buy the whole “the team peer pressured me” bit? I wouldn’t.
I wait a little over an hour until I see her headed my way, bag in hand. She’s captivating. I swear I can see the halo above her golden locks as she ambles towards me. I bolt out of the truck as soon as I see she’s crying, but I don’t pull her into me right away. I don’t have as much right to do that anymore.
“Coach says I can ride back with you...if you feel like driving all that way. It’s getting late, so I understand if you can’t. If not, I need my phone and I’ve gotta go right now and we can talk that way, if you figured things out with it.” She sniffles and looks down, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Of course I’ll take you. Run and tell your coach, sweetie.”
She’s back quickly and climbs in through my side as I settle her bag in the back. Silently I climb in, trying to decide what I should or shouldn’t say to this precious, forgiving creature beside me. After I pull us onto the main highway we’ll be using for the next several hours, I finally find my voice. “Why you crying, darlin?”
“Something’s wrong, Evan, and I hate what I’m thinking. Someone sabotaged me on purpose; someone took away UGA for me.” Her body tenses and she falls silent but for a second, the calm before the storm. “Someone TOOK YOU AWAY FROM ME!” she screams and breaks into full body sobbing.
I give her a minute to gather herself before I ask questions; she can barely breathe. I may be a sorry bastard, but I can’t just watch her hurt from across the cab. Hesitantly, I place my hand on her thigh, hoping to fuse comfort into her.
“Laney, what are you talking about? No one took me from you; I’m right here, baby girl. I figured out the phones, we’ll be able to talk now. Just calm down for me, lamb.”