I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself.
But that’s the problem. That’s why I keep pushing. I don’t know what to do or who I’d be without that.
I’m about to get out of bed when my phone dings again. I expect it to be CC, but it’s Heaven.
Heaven: Have you been on ClikClak this past week?
I usually only get texts like this from her when there’s something non-flattering in the news like another woman claiming I’m her baby daddy or something. After one too many of those stories, I started getting a lot more selective about whom I spent time with. And trust me, there’s been no one recently.
Me: No, and I swear I haven’t impregnated anyone.
Heaven: I’m not saying you did, but you should go take a look.
She sends me a link to a profile. I click without giving it much thought. What I see makes me bolt upright. I swear my heart glitches.
It’s a video of me. Mocking me. A totally expressionless recount of me refusing to smile for that girl after the semifinals game and my terrible showing at Indiana. It was posted four days ago and has over fifty-thousand views.
But that’s not what has sent me into possible cardiac arrhythmia.
Holy shit, it’s Hannah.
I glance at the profile name. @HannahLaRosa. It really is her. She ... she ... she’s totally making fun of me.
Why?
I click on her profile. She’s into sportscasting. There are tons of videos with random sports facts. Even more with sports gossip, like the one about me today. And then ... there are a bunch of videos with her wearing suits, standing outside a dog park.
I’m transfixed, watching her speak into a ... is that a spatula?
That’s right, Carl, Sir Fluffybottoms will be a free agent at the end of this season. He ran a 10.6 in the combine, which is amazing considering his legs are less than twelve inches long. But he still has competition in the market. Duke and Max bring serious golden retriever energy and are likely to be drafted higher than Sir Fluffybottoms. That being said, he’s still a contender for Good Boy status. That’s all I have from Rawhide Arena. Back to you, Carl.
I watch every single video.
Some more than once.
Okay, I watch them all multiple times. She’s changed, yet I still see the Hannah I once knew. The Hannah who used to challenge me to squat contests, knowing she’d never win. The Hannah who ended up in the wrong history class but worked her ass off and got a better grade than I did. The Hannah who made fun of the way girls pursued me, never realizing the only one I wanted in my bed was her.
Oh, Cally ...
The Hannah who was so exquisite, naked, and beautiful in my bed.
The Hannah I sent out my back door, knowing my roommates were watching, and forgot about the minute the call from the Renegades came in.
That’s not true. I didn’t forget. I simply had to close one chapter and start another. A sacrifice that seemed worth it at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.
I follow her profile.
My phone pings with another text.
Heaven: Did you see it?
Me: Yup
Heaven: I’ll have it taken down.
Me: No, don’t. It’s fine.
Heaven: It’s not fine. The original videos are bad enough. You don’t need any more publicity.
