Page 8 of Coming Around Again

“Well, tell us.” Meg had rolled her eyes, but only where I could see.

“We have to move the company to Charlotte, because that’s where the new investor lives.”

“Move out of Pittsburgh?” Megan screeched. I hadn’t said anything, because I was still processing the information. Yes, I’d still be at college in Pittsburgh—at least, I assumed so. Mom’s trust fund had paid for our summer at the lake, and it could probably pay for college if GoPlay fell apart.

But Charlotte was in North Carolina. Closer to Naya. I distinctly remember pulling my phone out of my pocket to text her the news—and then we swerved violently.

I never saw exactly what happened, because I’d turned my head to look at my sister in the back seat. Maybe Mom did, too. Maybe there was another car coming toward us. Maybe a deer crossed the road in front of us. I still don’t know.

I woke up in a haze of pain. My left leg seemed to have been replaced by a red-hot poker, and my head ached, and I was upside down.

The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Still in a haze, but not in pain; instead, I couldn’t feel much of my body. My vision cleared enough to show me my father sitting by my bed, looking worried. “Dad,” I whispered.

“They’re okay,” he said instantly, putting his hand on mine. “And you’re going to be fine, too. Don’t worry. Just work on getting better.”

My halting, confused questions finally prompted my father to explain, in limited terms. I was in the hospital in Raleigh, having been airlifted to a higher-rated trauma center than Love Lake had access to. My mother had broken an arm and collarbone. My sister had only minor, superficial injuries. The car was totaled. My leg was broken and I’d been concussed. The doctors recommended I delay starting college, in order to heal.

I needed to talk to Naya. I asked for my phone, but my dad just rolled his eyes. “No screens for you, bud. Doctor’s orders.”

The phone, I had begged. I had to call her.

“Call who?”

That’s when I remembered that my parents didn’t know about my dating a girl who had worked as a maid at the resort. Naya had insisted we keep it private, lest she lose her job. But the summer was almost over. Surely it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Finally I asked to see Megan. She’d understand.

When we were private, I told Meg what I needed. “Get my phone. Call Naya. Tell her everything.”

“What’s her number?”

I’d leaned back against the pillows, exhausted from fighting to get access to my phone. “Don’t know. It’s in my phone. Call her.”

Megan had bitten her lip and leaned closer. “But Des…your phone…it’s smashed.”

“Get me another one,” I insisted. “Transfer my stuff.”

It took a week of begging for the new phone to arrive. Hours longer to transfer the contacts, while on the phone with the representative. I called my girl with a huge sense of relief.

Straight to voicemail. That was weird; maybe her phone was dead. I left a long, confused, desperate message for her to call me.

No return call. I called again. Straight to voicemail again.

After the fourth time my call failed to connect me to Naya, I asked Megan to send her a message on social media. She studied my phone, biting her lip. “Are you sure you’re friends with her? I can’t see her. Did I spell her name right?”

“I don’t know!” My headache was getting worse. “N-A-Y-A. Naya Miller.”

She shook her head. “Not coming up.”

“Try it on your phone.”

Meg gave me a pitying look. “You know I can’t use the internet on my phone. And I don’t have social media because I’m not fourteen yet.”

Gradually I came to understand that I’d been blocked, and it hurt. It really fucking hurt. Had I misunderstood everything between us? Every time we talked about the future, had she faked it? Was I just a summer fling for her?

Sweet Naya. We’d been so real with each other. We’d learned each other’s bodies, and we’d learned each other’s hearts. I thought I knew her. I thought she knew me.

All those times we’d lain in each other’s arms, her skin so silky against mine, her body open and slick and juicy for me. She was everything I ever wanted.

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