Page 60 of Personal Foul
I’m like dead weight walking through the lobby of the apartment building, hating the moment when I inevitably pass by her door. I stop outside, staring at her peephole, wondering what she’s doing on the other side.
It takes what feels like forever before I’m able to fall asleep that night. Maybe it’s the way things were left on the phone, or the fact she’s not asleep next to me. Maybe it’s that I won’t really get to see her now until tomorrow morning, but I’m restless all night, tossing and turning.
I packed my bag before I crawled into bed so I wouldn’t have to worry about it before I left. Not like I had anything else to be doing anyway.
Waking up, I find an unread text message on my phone. Immediately, my thoughts move to Sydney as I swipe my screen and click on my messages.
Molly:We need to talk before I leave town, Colson. Quit ignoring me.
Quit ignoring me, much like the last three messages she’s sent me that have gone un-responded to. I have no interest in talking to Molly about anything left unresolved between the two of us. The past is in the past, and for me, it’s going to stay there.
I delete the text from my phone, wanting to forget Molly and this conversation ever happened. Opening up the thread with Sydney, I scroll through our messages from the day before landing on the selfie she snapped yesterday morning.
She was standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom. Looking at the reflection behind her, it’s clear she wasn’t wearing anything. The angle of the phone and the counter behind her hid anything risqué from being seen.
Always teasing me.
I type out a quick text to her and quickly hit send before I have a chance to second-guess it.
She told me last night I could see her before I took off. It’s just before eight in the morning, there’s a possibility she could still be asleep, so I opt to text her, not wanting to wake her if she still is.
I toss my phone on my bed, deciding to jump in the shower to help wake me up, instead of staring holes into my screen waiting for a response. The warm water feels good against my aching body.
Basketball has been getting more and more stressful the further into the season we get. The combination of ice baths after practice and massages are the only thing making it any easier on me, that and ending my nights with Sydney in my arms.
Stepping out of the shower a few minutes later, I towel-dry my hair before wrapping it around my waist before making a dash for my phone to check for any missed messages.
Sydney:I didn’t get much sleep last night. Going to take more medicine and hopefully pass out.
I shake my head, rubbing the back of my neck. I’m about to toss my phone back on my bed when another text message comes through.
Sydney:Good luck!
The trip to Dallas is long, and it makes it harder being away from Sydney, especially with this distance growing between us. This is the part I hate most about my job–when all the traveling pulls me away from where I need to be.
It’s tough to stay focused, but I have to do what I need to do. I owe it to my teammates to give it a hundred and ten percent effort every day.
My mood is sour after our game. We ended up losing by three points in overtime. It was a hard-fought game, but something about losing and not being able to leave the arena and head straight home always makes it worse. It’s like you have to sit in your mood, dealing with the loss, all the way home.
The team loads up on the bus, heading to the airport for our flight back to Miami. I still haven’t heard from Sydney since she texted me good luck.
I sent her a couple of messages, letting her know we landed and asked her how she’s feeling, both of them went unanswered.
Just as we’re about to board the flight, a text message comes through, and my heart leaps, hoping it’s Sydney.
Molly:Colson, we need to talk. It’s important.
Important to who?I think to myself when another message comes through.
Molly:Is this about the redhead from the other night?
The fact she’s bringing up Sydney now has me seeing red. I’m in the middle of sending her a reply, telling her not to bring her up or to bother texting me as she fires off another message.
Molly:She knows who I am, Colson. You might as well cut the bullshit already.
Anger simmers in my blood forcing my jaw to tick. I turn my ringer off on my phone, not wanting to cut myself off from the chance of hearing from Sydney, but I don’t want to deal with Molly right now. I will, but it will have to wait until I cool down and sort through the mind-fuck she’s thrown at me.
“You all right, man?” Jaxsen asks, side-eyeing me.
