My Accidental NFL Boyfriend

My Accidental NFL Boyfriend 26

            I wonder if Caleb was as conflicted as I am.

            I balanced between the thought of his warm arms and the thought of his arms setting on fire and choking me, bringing back all the cruel memories of my youth and teenage years.

            I grip the side of the bed, glancing out the open window 4 floors down. I wonder if I jumped, would someone miss me, would someone cry at my funeral? It was probably the alcohol talking (alcohol can be a depressant, kids) but I didn’t have the balls to jump, anyway. The idea of dying was terrifying—what happened after you see the light? I didn't even care if I didn't regain all my memory, there was only one thought on my mind.

            Caleb.

            Caleb, where did you go? Would you miss me?

            I see his phone flashing on the nightstand.

            I grab it and stumble out the door, grabbing the wall and staggering toward the elevator. I shouldn’t have drunk, I should never drink again. Bad decisions always ensued after that third shot of vodka.

            I press the ground floor in the elevator, gripping the bar as it lurches down.

            Ew, I felt sick.

            COME HOME CALEB!

            I run out into the lobby, the people giving me weird stares. I probably looked like a wreck. I didn’t see him in the lobby, so my first instinct was to run outside. His car wasn’t in the lot.

            There was a wafflehouse and burgerking across the street, maybe he was there?

            I rush into the darkness; the headlights of cars streaming toward my lone figure. I look both of my blurry ways, and sprint across the highway. There was a Kmart behind the burger king.

            Caleb’s phone vibrates. I was too polite not to read the message, but it kept ringing and ringing, and I realize some guy named “Alex” was calling.

            I click the green button on the iphone.

            “HELLO?!” I yell.

            “Um, hello,” a voice says, “who is this?”

            “who is dis?”

            “Who are you?” a bunch of roaring voices are in the background, “CALEB’S GETTING IT!”

            “My name is none of your biz.”

            “Lady, are you drunk?”

            “What’s crunk?”

            “Drunk! Are you drunk?”

            “No are you drunk asshole?”

            “No, I need to talk to Caleb.”

            “I don’t know where he isssss! I’m looking for him.”

            “HEY LADY,” a deep voice says, “CAN I HAVE YOUR NUMBER?”

            “911-fuck-you.”

            “Please baby?”

            “I AINT A BABY! I’m 19!”