Twenty-Three
It’s been two hours, one hundred and twenty minutes, and it feels like an eternity. She could be anywhere by now. She ran, and I never caught up to her. I have no idea how she managed to flee so fast, but she did. She even grabbed her big-ass bag on her way out the door.
I haven’t been able to find her; I’ve looked everywhere that I can think of, and she’s nowhere to be found. To be honest, my list of places to check wasn’t very long. I don’t know her schedule, her routine, or where she goes.
This is so fucked up. My brother could tell you what brand of shampoo Red uses. He watches her all hours of the fucking day and night, and I know if I were to hit him up right now and ask where she was, he’d be able to narrow it down to a class seating chart.
Then there’s Max. He knows more about my sister than anyone else on the planet, and they haven’t even been together that long.
They’ve become so close in a short amount of time, and the way they love each other reflects this closeness.
They’re basically married; they share toothpaste, laundry detergent, and fucking toilet paper.
Max would never not know where she was. He would never have to question where she could possibly be if he were in my shoes right now.
And here I am gasping for air while she’s in the wind. I know nothing about this girl except for how she makes me feel. And right now she’s making me feel desperate. I’m fucking desperate to know she’s okay.
The dragon in my gut is in total distress that she’s gone.
He’s pacing back and forth, and I feel sick to my fucking stomach over it.
Between what she went through last night and now this rando girl freaking her out, all I can think about is that she’s gonna run and disappear for good.
It causes my chest to constrict, and it’s so tight, the flimsy, threaded stitches that hold my heart together feel like they're being ripped apart.
I looked all over the library and had no luck.
I questioned the librarians, and they don’t think they saw her run outta there.
My sister said she hasn’t seen or spoken to her today.
The Tutoring Center was a dead end. I’ve been stopping and asking everyone that I come across, but no one remembers seeing her.
How could that be? I don’t fucking understand how no one’s noticed her when she’s all I see.
I called Alvi, and he told me to calm down and to sit tight.
He repeated over and over again that she’ll show up when she’s ready and that she knows how to handle herself.
I don’t like either of those answers, no matter how many times he said them.
I want her to be ready now, and I don’t want her to have to handle shit on her own anymore.
I’ve called her sixty-two times, and punched the call button for number sixty-three. It goes straight to voicemail, and I wanna fucking scream until she hears me. Fucking hell, Ed, pick up!
I scroll through my call log and have a couple of missed calls from an out-of-state number and six new text notifications. None of them are from her, which means everyone else can wait.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to make sure that she’s okay and keep her safe if I can’t find her. She keeps running away from me, and it’s like I’m in some sort of time warp loop today.
Everything that’s happened this morning has happened again. We kiss, she dips, and I have a fucking panic attack thinking that I’ve lost what I didn’t know I needed and now desperately want to find.
Because what if that new crew finds her first?
What if they retaliate against her for last night?
What if they hurt her? The rapid-fire questions in my head are invasive, and the intrusive thoughts are disturbing while I’m left to feel every fucking stupid emotion that my body has.
It’s the strongest set of feelings that I’ve ever felt. Is this what it’s like to love someone?
It’s coming from this place inside of me that lives without sunlight.
It’s past the dense forest that’s made up of trees standing guard.
I’ve never brought anyone in or traveled past them.
The safehouses my family and boys live in are as far as I’ve ever gone.
I’ve never loved anyone else in any other way.
And now I’ve found myself jumping from the edge of the forest cliffs, free-falling for her. I’ve landed in uncharted territory and don’t recognize myself as a man in love while standing in the middle of the underworld that’s buried deep in my chest.
I may not recognize myself, but I recognize her presence. This is where she is, even when I can’t find her; this little demon lives in the fiery hell of my heart. And fuck, do I love her being there.
I need to find her before it’s too late and she disappears forever. Whatever it is that she’s running from, problems from her past, drama that she has to deal with now, or any fucking future issue, I wanna be there to take it on with her. I don’t care if she’s Edison or Valentine.
I don’t really care what her name is. She’ll always be Ed to me. At first, I thought that the girl calling her a different name was a mistake, that she thought she was someone else, but she didn’t correct her. She didn’t tell her to fuck off, and she didn’t deny it.
Instead, she looked fucking terrified and booked it, while that girl looked like she couldn’t believe her eyes.
And there I was, standing there stunned as I tried to figure out how I went from kissing this girl who had walked into my dreams, to her trying to outrun her own nightmare.
By the time I woke up, both of them were gone.
I'm right back where I started, standing in front of the library, ready to go in to make another pass, and to see if she’s here, when I hear my name being yelled a few feet away. I know that voice. It’s Coach. And he sounds pisseddddd.
I’ve never gotten into it with Coach, but today’s proving to be a day of firsts for me. He was pissed that I missed practice and wasn’t taking any shit when I told him I was sick this morning.
He literally grabbed me by the arm when I started walking away from him.
I didn’t get far. He dragged me to the Athletic Center for a discussion, a workout, and a 5k run on the treadmill.
And now I’m sitting in an auditorium with the rest of the Athletic Department, waiting on some fucking announcement.
I threw a fit when he told me this meeting was mandatory and that I had to stay.
He didn’t give a single fuck when I told him that I had an emergency to deal with that could literally be a life and death type of situation.
He told me to prove it, and I shoved my phone in his face to show him how many times I’d called her.
“A woman not responding, no matter how many times you idiots call or text, does not mean it’s an emergency; it means she doesn’t want to talk to you.
Leave her alone, Three.” No. He’s wrong.
She doesn’t want that. I refuse to believe she doesn’t want to talk to me, not when she had so much to say when she kissed me back.
She’s just spooked right now. She’s afraid of whoever that girl was—and maybe a little bit of what’s developing between us. Either way, I can’t let her go dark.
I tried to walk off, threatened to quit the team, and lost my shit when he made the boys babysit me.
So now, he’s got me sitting in the center chair of the fucking row with the team on either side of me.
These assholes are literally locking me in.
Honorable mention to the wrestling team standing guard at each exit.
“You good?” Jake asks from my left, and I scowl at him. “What's got you all pissed off now?”
“It’s better to be pissed off than pissed on,” Monroe adds from the other side of him, and laughs at his own stupidity.
“Thanks for the words of wisdom,” I tell him and swipe my thumb over my phone screen. There are no new messages or calls, and I squeeze the shit outta my phone as if I could somehow siphon out a response from her.
“Well, here’s another one. You’re gonna break your phone like that, and no one likes to look at a cracked screen.
Stop being a dumbass. We know you're strong, Three. Stop showing off.” I dip my face to my chest, trapping my chain on my chin.
My screen goes dark before I catch my reflection in the glass, and see all of my damage glaring back at me.
I’ve had anger and trust issues for years. My parents lied and led me to believe my life was one way when it wasn’t. They hid us being adopted, along with the details of the shitty circumstances we were born into.
They hid behind some ideology that it was never a good time to tell us. Their confession split me in half; I’ll never be able to fully forgive them for it. I love them no matter what, but I won’t be able to fully trust them again. Some breaks don’t ever fully heal.
I put myself back together with hockey, pussy, and pain.
I was unstoppable on the ice and became fucking insufferable because of it, provoking fight after fight.
I started going through girls and used them to make me feel good when I was too numb to feel anything at all.
None of them has ever been enough, and I’ve never wanted one of them to stay.
Not until her. I went from feeling nothing to everything, and it fucking hurts to give a shit about someone like this.
I breathe in the pain that she’s causing, and my body tightens up. I trusted my gut with my heart, and now my stomach is on fire as it boils my blood, causing steam to stream outta my nostrils as I exhale.
I swallow down the burn of her silence when a loud-ass whistle cuts through the noisy room. Everyone goes silent right before a pretentious and snooty-looking middle-aged woman clears her throat. She’s standing at the podium up on the stage, staring down at us all.