Page 35 of Learn the Play
“You can have me,” I tell her. “I’m right here waiting for you.”
“I can’t have you. It was hell, the way he walked away. I can’t risk that happening.”
“That’s him. Not the job,” I remind her.
“It’s the same to me. I know that might sound irrational, but I don’t know any other way to feel about it. I’m sorry, Reid.”
“Let me show you,” I tell her. “I’ll show you that you come first.”
“We barely know each other. It’s hard for me to believe that you’re all in after one night.”
“One incredible life-changing night, Bell.”
“I should let you go. You’re with your friends.”
“I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. No, that’s not true. I’d rather be holding you while you’re sick, but talking to you will have to do. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure,” she replies, her tone soft.
“Will you call me if you need anything or if you start to feel worse?”
“Probably not,” she admits. “You’re busy, and I’m just going to lie here and watch mindless TV, then go to bed. I’m not going to bother you when you’re busy.”
“Please?” There it is again, me begging for more from her. There’s a knot in my gut thinking about her sitting in her house all alone when she might need me.
“Fine,” she concedes, but we both know she’s lying. She’s agreeing to humor me.
“I’ll call you in a little while to check on you. Will you answer?” I ask her.
There’s a long, silent pause. “Yeah,” she finally says. “I’ll answer.”
“Get some rest.”
“Okay.” There’s a slight pause, and it feels as if she wants to say more. “Thank you for wanting to check on me. Bye, Reid,” she says, and the line goes dead. She ends the call, not giving me a chance to rejoice in the fact that I feel her thawing. She wants this, wants us, and slowly, I’m scaling those walls. It’s a good thing, because this was starting to shape up to be one of those “you hang up, no, you hang up” teenage situations. I didn’t want to end our call, but she’s not feeling well, and hanging on the phone with me is the last thing she wants to do.
Standing, I shove my phone into my pocket and join my friends. Foster’s right—I’m moping, and that’s not me. I’m not that guy. I sit next to Sloane on the edge of the pool, and help her ref the game of chicken, which is more laughter and ribbing each other than actual game play.
“You doing okay?” Sloane asks.
“Yeah.”
“She still avoiding you?”
“She had lunch with me earlier this week, but I pretty much begged her to come with me today, and she turned me down.”
“She’s scared, Reid. She wants you, but it goes against everything she ever claimed she would steer away from. It’s going to take her some time to adjust to that.”
“I know, and I’m going to be here when she figures it out. I wanted her here. I just talked to her, and she’s not feeling well. So now, I feel like an ass.”
“Then go to her.”
“I don’t know where she lives. I can’t go there, and I can’t ask her to meet me when she’s not feeling well.”
“Okay, watch them.” She points to where Rowan and Corie are still going at it, trying to knock the other off their husbands’ shoulders. Sloane pulls out her phone, taps at the screen before placing it to her ear. “Amanda, hey, it’s Sloane, how are you?” she asks.
My head whips around to stare at her. Sloane rolls her eyes and points to our friends, telling me I’m not doing my job. Turning back, I stare at our friends, but all of my attention is on Sloane and the conversation she’s having. Amanda, that has to be Bellamy’s best friend, Amanda, right?
“Hey, so I need some advice,” Sloane says. She pauses. “We’re all at Landry and Rowan’s place for a cookout before the guys have to live, eat, and breathe training camp. Anyway, Reid’s bumming that Bellamy wouldn’t come. He called her, and she’s not feeling well. He wants to go check on her, but he doesn’t know where she lives.”
