Hannah.
I wonder how she made out at her meeting. I pull out my phone and check for messages, but there aren’t any from her.
Me: Blowing me off for bigger and better things? Don’t go home with LeBron. He’s married.
There’s no response.
That’s odd, but maybe she’s tied up.
Me: I’m on my way back to the hotel. If I’m asleep when you get in, wake me up.
I check her ClikClak but there haven’t been any new posts since this morning. Weird, because I could have sworn I saw her making videos multiple times today.
She still hasn’t answered my text. Maybe she’s already back in the room, fast asleep. Today’s been a long day, and it’s not like we got tons of sleep last night. I tell myself I’m not going to worry until I confirm whether she’s in the room.
Telling myself does very little to stop my mind from whirring with the worst-case scenarios and the absolute panic they induce.
My phone beeps, and I nearly drop it because I’m so anxious to see her reply.
CC: Yo, man. Where you at? You haven’t worked out all week.
I’m disappointed it’s not her.
Me: In NYC, signing a deal. Be back in a few days.
CC: Don’t let ’em wine and dine you too much. You might get soft and lazy, and I’ll be in the goal instead.
I know he’s fucking with me, but it’s enough to send a sobering wave down my spine. He could take my spot. It’s a very real possibility.
I exit the Uber and practically run to the room. Hannah’s walking out of the bathroom, towel around her body, when I open the door. I grab her to me, lifting her off her feet, her wet hair pressing against my face.
“Oh my God, you’re okay. You didn’t answer my texts.”
“I was in the shower. Plus, my phone’s on the charger. It’s pretty much dead.”
“Where did you go? Who did you meet up with?”
Hannah adjusts the towel around her chest as she sits down on the edge of the bed. There’s a faint scar on the left side of her chest, just under her collarbone. I don’t know how I missed it last night. I was sure I’d explored every inch of her body. “I was meeting with a media conglomerate. They’re possibly interested in my work.”
“Like for sportscasting? That’s fantastic! It’s what you’re trying to get, right?” I sit down next to her. “Is it TV? Local or national?”
“It’s online and print, not TV. Large social media aspect. But I’ve got to start somewhere, right? It wasn’t even a full interview. I mean, you saw what I was wearing. It was just a quick meeting. It’s why I’m in town.”
Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder why she was in town. It was as if she appeared out of my dreams at the moment I needed her most. “Oh, right. Yeah. I was wondering,” I lie.
I stand up, uncomfortable with my lack of awareness. I should be more alert. I’ve been totally blindsided by her. “Well, I should hop in the shower myself.”
Hannah stands up too, placing a hand on my arm. “Cally, what is it? You’ve got this weird look on your face.”
I don’t look at her as I pull my shaving kit and clean clothes out of my suitcase. What am I supposed to say? How do I tell her that something isn’t sitting right in my gut?
I mean, it could be that dinner and all that booze, but it’s more than that. CC’s innocent comment, Hannah showing up, my shoulder. I should be on the trainer’s table or at physical therapy, not in New York City being wined and dined. I haven’t worked out in two days. Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel right.
I get out of the shower and swipe the steam away from the mirror. The hairstylist trimmed my hair before the photo shoot, and it’s shorter than I’d like.
Another thing out of my control.
Hannah’s definitely outside of my control. Frankly, she has me in a tailspin. She’s knocked me off my game for sure. All I can think about is her. Why?
