My eyes shoot to the ceiling, and my hands run down my face. I let out a long sigh before standing up.
Dreams, nightmares, whatever they are, Ifeelthem to my core. The happy, the sad, the terrified. Every emotion is real to me. And almost every night, Becca screams and tears fill my mind. I wish more than anything, that I could make them stop. That I could dream about anything else, anything. Watching her, watchingthat, it is killing me.
I try staying awake if I can, for as long as I can. But I never win that fight. And my loss is always rewarded in the worst way.
I want to call her, to make sure she’s okay. That my dream was just my fucked up imagination. But she blocked me a long time ago. So here I sit, sitting in cold sweat, with vomit on my breath, all because of the girl I love but can’t have.
Quickly brushing my teeth, I head back to my room, too irritated to deal with that mess of plastic shards right now.
But not before calling out to the guys downstairs, who I can hear moving around in the kitchen, “We need a new toilet seat up here. No fucking questions.”
Light laughter, similar to schoolgirls giggling, sounds from down below. I walk into my bedroom and slam the door behind me, noticeably softer than I did with the toilet seat.
I lie back in bed, but it’s pointless. Every time I close my eyes, I see her, then I see Brady, and then I see red.
Being way too restless, I change into joggers and a hoodie and step into my tennis shoes. My body needs to run, to vent the only way it can.
Slipping my earbuds in, I head downstairs and step outside into the trickling rain. Digging the ball of my foot into the concrete, I take off.
I give in to the anger beneath my skin, pushing my body harder and harder, and I don’t turn around until I’m over three miles from the house.
No matter how loud I blare the music in my ears, Becca’s screams echo through my body. I can feel her broken cry in my bones.
On the way back home, I pound my feet into the ground, pounding the pavement faster and faster until I’m at a dead sprint. The runner’s high pulses through me, and my muscles go numb. I wish I could skip this, wish I could just feel the burn attacking my muscles the entire time. No bliss.
When I walk back up the stairs to the house, my chest is rising and falling so fast that I have to sit on our porch swing to catch my breath.
Dawson walks outside and turns to me, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, dude, you good?”
I nod, trying to force deep breaths into my lungs, placing my interlocked hands on the back of my neck.
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy for running today. I mean, tomorrow, we’ll be on the field for three hours, not even counting weights and watching tape. I’m trying to move as little as I possibly can today.” He shakes away his almost disgust at my choice of running. “I’m grabbing doughnuts before we head to the hotel. Do you want anything?”
I don’t know how he can stand to put that into his body. Doughnuts always make me feel like shit. “I’m good, thanks,” I huff out.
With a two-finger wave, he hops down the steps and walks to his car.
Feeling the suffocating ache in my lungs beginning to fade, I hobble inside, my legs jelly from the run. I pour myself the biggest glass of ice water and head upstairs to grab my bags.
Rhett, Donovan, and Chance are all in the living room, watchingImpractical Jokers. Their bags are stacked in a mountain behind the couches.
We’re heading to our hotel early today to get settled in and unpacked before tomorrow starts. Most of the team lives off-campus, and Coach wanted us to have a fun bonding experience. I can’t believe that of all the hotels next to the stadium, Coach had to pick The Chambers.
I don’t know if I’m ready to see her again yet. I don’t know how she’s going to react.
How do I want her to react?
Well, I want her to see me when I walk in with my team. I want to watch her take off running, trying to get into my arms as fast as she can. I want her to jump, and I’ll catch her as she wraps her legs around my waist, holding on as if her life depended on it. Then, I want her to kiss me and never stop. I want the distance between us, emotionally and physically, to be nonexistent.
What will she probably do?
Debate on what to do behind those beautiful eyes of hers, only to inevitably turn and walk away. Maybe a smart-ass comment or two first.
My teammates and I are driving separately so that we have our own cars there. It’s only about ten minutes away, so when Donovan gets back home and says he’s ready to go, my heart jams itself into my throat, and my palms start to sweat.
Becca has to be there. It’s the hotel her dad worked out of. She wouldn’t have been able to change home base, and she would want to be as close to him as she could get. I bet she even uses his old office.
They were always so close, her and her dad. Especially while her mom was going through treatment. He was Becca’s rock. But after her mom passed, I noticed that Becca got a little quieter and her nights out seemed to last longer. Her dad isolated himself in his work most of the time, which is why she was avoiding the house. It was a reminder of her mom, and a reminder of the deteriorating relationship with her dad.
