Page 16 of Baller's Surprise Baby

I stare out the windshield at the road in front of me, hardly registering the scrubby landscape zipping by on both sides. I spend the next half an hour reliving every look, every touch from last night until I recall exactly why I’m in a car, driving across the country by myself. I heave a sigh while self-loathing washes over me for the fiftieth time since I walked out of that room.

I treat her like crap for two weeks straight and when I finally get a shot I turn right back into a jackass. I stare at my phone knowing I’ve got a lot of grovelling to do…and I don’t even have her number.

12

Everly

“How stupid could I be?”

I take one more glance around the empty room wishing that a genie could somehow erase this morning’s morbid reality, and then I make a noise somewhere between a shriek and a groan as I throw my hands over my eyes. With a shove, I roll onto my stomach where I proceed to bury my head among the pillows and kick my feet in sheer fury. I’m so mad I can’t even stay there.

Within seconds I practically spring out of bed and yell at the empty space, “What the hell, Ryder!?” The answering silence is a hateful reminder of how alone I am, but it doesn’t stop me. “What the hell, man? Is this how superstars leave a woman? Is this what it’s like to be famous and have women falling all over you?! You completely forget common decency?!“ My voice pitches higher and higher, but I can’t bring myself to care if anyone hears me.

Grabbing my go bag, I slam into the bathroom where I proceed to shower off every reminder of last night’s euphoria. Halfway through the soap and suds I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

It was so beautiful. I’ve never known anyone like this and then taken it to the next level. I’ve never slept with someone that I’ve known for so long. Ryder is like family to me, and if I’m honest with myself I don’t think I could have had this kind of connection with anyone else. The history just isn’t there.

The pain at this thought stabs deep because I loved it! I loved being with someone who was so safe and so exciting. Wait a minute. He’s not so safe. No, if anything he’s more dangerous than others I’ve been with. He got past my guard so quickly, and I don’t mean the sex.

I shake my head at myself, flinging droplets and strands of wet hair haphazardly. It’s not like Ryder seduced me. If anything, I spoke first and now look at me, tearing up in the shower. I scrub until my skin is pink and try to ignore the tiny twinges of soreness further south, the reminders of what he did to my body and how he made it sing. God! He was something else!

And I want to strangle him! I lose track of time as I ruminate, and when I get out of the shower I bump my personal items around on the counter and then apply to my face until I look moderately presentable. Grabbing my phone, I do a quick scan of the room and turn my back, ready to put this place behind me. 3001 is officially the most hated number on this planet, and I swear to skip it next time I come across it in my life.

Checking my messages, my heart drops when I realize there’s nothing from Ryder. Why would there be? It’s not like we exchanged numbers, but I can’t help looking for something, wishing he would man up. Dumping someone by text is such a loser move but ghosting them is even worse.

I hate that I thought he was worth my time when clearly he’s just another asshole. I suppress a growl and dial the project coordinator, Allen. I’m tempted to lodge a complaint about having to share a room, but then I would have to explain, and I’d rather not discuss it at all. Instead, I set my sights on getting an Uber back out to the airport while wondering where the flight staff stayed if Ryder and I truly had the last hotel room available.

An hour later I’m settled on the plane as the pilot communicates with ground control, and then we’re off. I spend the flight trying not to growl at the empty chair beside me and telling myself that I’m a professional. Ryder’s utter stupidity will not bring me down.

If I’m honest with myself, I can’t decide who I hate more right now: Ryder or my senseless heart. I hate that I can’t stop wishing things had ended differently. When the flight stewardess offers snacks, I skip the crackers and fruit and go straight for the chocolate covered almonds, absolutely desperate to drown my sorrows in age-old methods.

We finally touch down in LA and I try dialing Allen to check the schedule for the day, but the call goes straight to voicemail. Looking through my emails I find the agenda and breathe a sigh of relief when Ryder’s name isn’t on my list. It looks like I won’t be needed until gametime, so I take a minute to call Rachel who still lives here having found herself a local job straight out of college.

I hate to admit it, but I’m actually a little nervous to speak with her after what happened last night. I’d bet good money Ryder would never talk about that with her. So, I put on my cheeriest smile knowing the expression will carry through my tone on the line. Besties, Rachel always has a way of knowing when something is off, and if I’m not careful she’ll sniff out my anxiety.

“Hey! You made it!” Her cheery voice is rushed, and I can hear other voices in the background. “Listen, I had a schedule change, but I left a spare key with my neighbour so you can drop off your stuff at my place. You remember Mrs. Malone, right? Just knock on her door. She’ll be home all day, and I’ll meet you at the game, okay?” I give my assent and hang up, grateful it was a short call and I don’t have to fake excitement just yet. That will come, but I’ve got time.

After I’ve made the stop at Rachel’s and I finally arrive at the Staples Center, I can’t find an entrance that’s unlocked or manned by security. After twenty minutes of trying to get through to Ed my director and Allen the coordinator on my cell, I settle for calling the Mavericks’ coordinator who must at least have knowledge of who is on site this evening.

I’m directed back to the main entrance where I wait another fifteen minutes before I see a security guard pop their head out the door to flag me down to check ID. He gives me and my bag a quick once-over before directing me in, and that’s when I see him. Ryder. The man I want to kiss and strangle, the one I want to remember forever and to simultaneously wipe from existence.

He’s just standing there staring at me, eyes wide, hands in his pockets. And me? I’m frozen in place without words. A glance around the entryway reveals we’re the only ones here. The security guard has ducked into a doorway and is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey.” Ryder’s voice is soft and soothing, and I feel myself stiffen instantly. Not that again! My heart wants to break inside, and I scold myself internally for letting a one-night stand get to me like this. Stiffening my shoulders and holding my head high, I pick a direction and start walking. I have no idea where I’m going, but Ryder just falls into stride beside me, uncharacteristically quiet. A few minutes later, he steps forward and holds an arm out, directing me toward a doorway where he quickly steps forward to grab the handle and hold the door for me.

I stare, nonplussed, somehow angrier than before. How dare he try to be gentlemanly! He spent the night in my bed only to abandon me the next morning. I grit my teeth and step forward, hardly trusting myself to speak. I know that if I open my mouth now, I’ll either scream or cry. Frankly, I’ve been that girl before, and I refuse to be her again. A few minutes later I hear voices and we pass offices and storerooms and then arrive at the locker rooms.

Spotting Dustin, the videographer, I speed up and call out. The moment he turns toward me I feel a wave of relief. Finally! I can get to work and put all of this stupid personal business out of my mind. I dive right into shop talk and set up for the shots we plan to take. We agree that we’ll focus on some of the warmup, and then I’ll be in the stands today with brief interview stints at halftime and at the end of the game. When we complete our review, I look up to realize Ryder is gone.

Why did he come to meet me? Of all people, the way he ran from the hotel, I’d think he’d prefer never to see me again. He didn’t even try to explain. Not that I gave him a chance, but I’m not about to feel sorry for that. I go back to my prep for the game, grateful that at least Ryder hadn’t been the antagonistic presence I’d become used to in prior photo shoots.

Four days later I drag myself home, ready to put this whole trip behind me. I hop out of my Uber and stand in the driveway with my bags on the pavement beside me, quickly rating and tipping the driver before I forget about it. It’s late afternoon, and I’m done for today. I won’t have any more photo shoots for this project until next week.

I’ve thought it through, and I’m a big girl. I’ve faced far worse things than being dumped or rather, ghosted. The man made his choice, and as much as I hate the way he went about it, I’m not one to chase. Turning toward the house, I take in a deep breath and say a silent prayer thanking the powers that be for letting me have my Aunt Sharon for a little bit longer. This time a year ago, I’d thought I might lose her.

I pick up my go bag and the extra suitcase I’d stowed on the plane during my Phoenix Fiasco, and then I step toward the door. Just as I’m about to put the key in, I notice my phone vibrate. A quick check shows it’s an unknown number so I let it go to voicemail. Later that night after a cozy reunion with Aunt Sharon and some time to unpack, I finally check it and hear the one voice that I’ve spent the last few days trying to forget.

“Look, I know I am an asshole.” I roll my eyes when I her Ryder’s first words. He doesn’t even introduce himself, just goes straight to the point. “ - and I don’t deserve it, but if you hear this, please just give me a call back so I can apologize properly. I owe it to you, and I’m asking you to give me a chance to make this right.”

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