I get back in my car to wait. And wait. And wait.
After about an hour, the panic starts to set in. Not the “I hope he wasn’t in an accident” kind of panic, but the “what did I just do with my career” type.
I’d texted him I was coming back today and that I’d be down as soon as I could. My arrival here is not a surprise.
The only thing that’s a surprise is how much of a fool I was. I can’t believe I jumped in with my whole chest like this. I could easily have been fired when I disclosed that—post Wave–Buzzards game—I entered into a relationship with Brandon.
I’m sure they didn’t believe me that nothing happened prior to that, but they weren’t really in a position to fight me on anything.
But as I sit here in Brandon’s driveway, looking at his dark house, I wonder why I did all this. None of it felt wrong. In fact, it all felt very right. I don’t know how I could have missed the mark so completely and totally. I wish there was a video-assisted replay for this whole thing so I could see where I went wrong.
The tears start, hot and furious. I let them fall. I don’t remember the last time I cried. It feels unnatural at first. I’m not used to letting my body respond this viscerally to my feelings. Now that those floodgates are open, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stem this tide.
My chest heaves as I gasp for breath. My body is shaking, convulsing almost. Snot is running out of my nose as wails escape my mouth. I—
Knock knock knock.
“Aah!” I scream, jumping at the movement and noise outside my car window.
I hear the deep rumbling laughter, but it does nothing to calm my heart which is about to pound its way through my chest wall.
“Andi, what are you doing?”
I swallow and swipe quickly at the tears on my cheeks. I glance in the rearview mirror and then wish instantly I hadn’t. My eyes are red and swollen. I look terrible.
I’m pretty sure I looked better when I wiped out on the treadmill.
“I’m fine,” I blurt.
“Obviously not,” Brandon says as he opens the door. “What’s going on?”
“You weren’t here. I haven’t talked to you in three days and you weren’t here when I got back. I thought ... maybe ...” I don’t finish. I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling.
Fear?
Panic?
Loneliness?
“I just got in from Logan. I thought maybe I’d see you there.”
“Logan? What were you doing there? Where did you go?” I continue wiping at my face with my hands and eventually give up and use the hem of my shirt.
“Are you going to get out of the car or are we going to stand here and talk in the driveway all night?”
I glance over my shoulder at the overnight bag in the back seat. Was I jumping the gun? Was I being presumptive?
When I turn back to face him, I see Brandon’s gaze trained on the rear seat as well. He opens the back door and grabs the bag. “Okay, well, I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitos, so I’m going in. Join me when you’re ready.”
I watch him walk into the house, still trying to calm my breathing and figure out what the hell is going on with me. It’s nice to see Brandon is as blunt as ever.
Actually, it was just what I needed. There was no pressure to stop reacting. To stop feeling. He didn’t ask me to push everything down and put it neatly away. He implied he would be waiting for me when I was ready. It was on my timeline, not his.
I mean, he did take my bag, so I can’t just leave, which means he does want me to stay.
He wants me.
I didn’t do this huge thing, take a big risk for nothing. There is a prize for stepping outside my comfort zone and showing my feelings. And that prize is waiting inside for me.
