I keep refreshing his name on Google, but all they have is the hit video. There is speculation that the players' safety board is going to be looking into the hit. I look at my watch and then up again to see that the game just ended. I rush into my bedroom, tossing my phone on the bed and then slipping on my jeans. I grab my phone and my purse, running to my car. I don’t even take a second to think before I’m parking in his driveway, right in front of the garage door he drove into five days ago. Getting out, I walk to the front door and ring the doorbell. I look around, seeing no one outside, and all I can hear are crickets. I ring the doorbell again and then knock on the door.
Would he ignore me? I think to myself. I don’t see why he wouldn’t since I’ve ignored him for the past three days. I shake my head and try to look inside the windows. "This is one step above stalking," I say to myself as I walk to the side of the house and open his back gate. "I hope he doesn’t have this place wired up and the cops show up to arrest my ass," I mumble as I walk into the back and see no lights on in the house. I take the phone out of my back pocket and call him. It goes straight to voice mail as I look up at the dark sky. "What did you expect?" I say, walking back to the front of the house. "Just leave," I tell myself, but instead of getting my ass back in my car, I walk back to his front door and sit down on the stoop. I take my phone out again and call him, and it goes straight to voice mail again.
I open the text thread.
Me: Hey, are you okay?
I wait to see the message go through, but instead of blue, the bubble turns green, and all it says is sent instead of delivered. I gasp out in shock. "Did he block me?" I don’t have to wait long for my answer because I see his headlights shine on the house, and then hear the garage door opening. I walk toward the car as he parks next to me in the driveway. My whole body is shaking, and I don’t know if it’s from nerves or happiness that he’s so close to me. The minute I see him step out of his car, my heart speeds up, and I’m thankful he’s okay. He’s dressed in a suit, but he carries his jacket in his hand. His white button-down shirt is open at the collar and rolled up at his elbows. His hair looks like he ran his hand through it a hundred times and my fingers itch to touch him. His eyes meet mine, and it’s like a car crash to my chest.
"What the hell was that?" I point toward the street when we come face-to-face in front of his open garage door.
"What are you doing here?" he asks me, confused, and walks right past me into the garage.
"What am I doing here?" I repeat to him as I follow him inside. I know this house as good as I know my own house, and I’ve only been in it twice. The memories of him putting me on the counter in the kitchen crash into me. He stops in front of the fridge, opening it and taking out a bottle of water. His eyes are guarded and dark as he leans against the gray counter. The three lights that hang from the ceiling light up the whole room.
"So." He looks at me, and I hate that he feels like a stranger. I hate that I’m not standing in front of him. I hate that his knuckles are red and swollen, and I’m not kissing him better. "What are you doing here?"
"Did you block me?" He laughs, and it’s not a nice laugh; it’s a bitter laugh.
"You ghosted me.” He points at me, and I can hear the hurt in his voice.
"I didn’t ghost you," I say, but I totally ghosted him. I know it, and he knows it. "I was busy."
He smiles, and it’s not a smile that gives you that warm and fuzzy feeling. It’s a smile that he knows I’m fucking lying. "Well, I definitely blocked you." He pushes away from the counter, and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s one thing to ghost him but another to be blocked.
"Why would you block me?" I ask, my voice low.
"Same reason you would ghost me." He shrugs. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a hell of a night." He walks by me, and I can smell his cologne, and my stomach rises up. "Close the garage door on your way out,” he says, going to the staircase.