Blindsided

Part 20

Bailey

I have no idea where she is. 

As much as she complains, she's never been late to one of our project training session things. Not this late, at least.

She's not answering her phone. 

And when I knocked on her door, no one answered. I didn't even hear anyone rattling around inside.

So it's safe to say I'm a little confused. But, above everything, really, really worried. Scared even. 

It's been less than a day since I last saw here at swim training, when stupid fucking Green flipped his shit. And I don't know if I was hallucinating or what, but when I went across to make sure she was okay, I felt something shift. I felt something digging into my chest when I looked at her, which only heightened when she looked at me. The way her eyes widened when she realized it was my hand on her shoulder told me something, even as she froze up. 

I wasn't making it up. 

Is that why she wasn't answering? Because she was weirded out by whatever it was that changed between us? Whatever switch was flicked?

I really hope not. I'd rather have a sarcastic Melanie than no Melanie at all.

My feet have practically worn through the carpet underneath my feet, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. Waiting. Waiting for her call. Waiting... waiting... wait-

I pick up on the first ring, not even bothering to look at the contact name displayed on the screen. 

"Melanie!" there's silence on the other end of the line, a small chuckle brewing. 

"Have you fucked up kid? You sound stressed." My breath is ragged with embarrassment, registering the fact that it's the Coach on the other end of the line, not Melanie.

"Uh no... well, sort of. Mel and I were supposed to do something... for the project this morning, but she hasn't been picking up." Deflated, I sink down into the softness of my small couch, gripping my temple between 2 fingers. My brain feels like it's throbbing, and it's not even 11am yet.

"Well, you'd better sort it out, because I need the 2 of you here at 2pm, to sort out relays and what not." My lips spread into a grimace, sensing the afternoon's activities as something I'd much rather avoid. Particularly if Melanie is mad at me. 

"Sure, I'll figure it out."

"Alright, see you Whitlock." I end the call, tossing my phone down beside me, readjusting my seated position to place my head in my hands. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I don't even have her friends or roommates number, so that rules that form of communication out. I mean, I guess I could ask around, but how long will that take?

The phone rings again, and I begrudgingly lift my head from my hands. I pick up the phone, actually taking a second to read the flashing contact. 

What the...

"Melanie." her name comes out as a breath, relief flooding my body.

"Whitlock." she croaks, her voice soft, far-away almost.

"Are you okay? I've been trying to reach you all morning... I... I..." I hang my head once again, the words I'm searching for unable to materialize. Melanie turns quiet again, a small sniffle flying through the phone. "Melly, what's happened?"

"I'm in hospital. I'm... okay. But sort of not. My friends are here, so I'm fine. Okay." her words his me in my chest. Stress runs through my blood again, a lump forming in my throat.