Page 124 of Hat Trick
Riley
Haven’t heard from you in a day, which isn’t like you.
If you need anything, I’m free.
* * *
Riley
Okay. Two days. I’m officially worried.
If I don’t hear from you by this afternoon, I’m taking a page out of Maverick’s playbook and breaking down your apartment door.
C’mon, Lexi baby. Let me know you’re okay.
* * *
It hurtsto open my eyes.
I groan and try to sit up in bed, but my head is pounding. My entire body aches, and it feels like the contents of my stomach are sitting somewhere in my throat.
“Fuck.” I fumble for my phone and check the time. It’s past nine, and if I want to make it to Riley’s session and avoid heavy traffic, I need to get my ass out of my apartment right now.
Except… the thought of moving farther than the confines of my bed makes me want to cry.
I cover my mouth and swallow down the taste of vomit. There’s no way I can drag myself to the arena, and whatever I’m battling might be contagious. Squinting at my bright phone screen, I wince as I open my text thread with Riley. There are half a dozen blue boxes that make it seem like he’s having a conversation with himself, and I type out a shaky message to him.
Me
Hey. Going to have to reschedule. Sick. Dying. Cannot function.
I don’t bother to wait for a response. I click off my phone and toss it somewhere on the mattress, groaning when I pull the covers over my head. My eyes are heavy, and I try to will myself to go back to sleep.
I doze in increments, but it’s fitful. One minute, I’m burning up from the inside out. The next, I’m freezing cold. I’m shivering and reaching over the edge of the bed to grab the sweatshirt that’s in a ball on the floor, desperate for another layer to burrow into. I exhale when I pull it over my head, the relief instantaneous. The warmth moves from my shoulders down to my toes, and for the first time in hours, my body starts to relax.
Until the remnants of what I last ate rumble in my stomach and end up all over my sheets.
“Shit,” I whisper.
My eyes prick with tears. The smell is revolting, the sight of it even worse, and I throw up a second time.
This is a new low in my life. It’s worse than all the times I’ve been hungover from drinking or done the walk of shame after a mediocre night at someone’s house, because I’m all alone. There’s no one around to help me clean up the mess I’ve made, and I feel so fucking pathetic.
Mustering all the strength I have—which is teetering toward nonexistent peppered with the delirious sense of exhaustion—I climb out of my bed and look at my mattress. Taking a breath that feels like I’m at mile twenty-two of a marathon, I pull off the sheets. I throw them in a pile in the corner, utterly ashamed.
I’ll sleep on the mattress. Or against the wall. I don’t care. I’m so tired, so fucking worn out that the knock on my apartment door makes me burst into tears.
It’s too far away, and I don’t know who could be here. The girls wouldn’t stop by without calling, and when a second knock comes, I drag myself through my bedroom and down the hall, ready to scream at the person on the other side.
“I’m not interested,” I manage to get out. “Please go away.”
“It’s me, Lex,” a muffled voice responds. “Can you please open the door?”
I stand on my toes and peer through the peephole, confused when I see Riley on the other side. I fumble with the lock and turn the knob, having to lean against the doorframe so I don’t topple over.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“I’ve been texting you for two days.”
