Possessive Coach

“Huh,” I say. “You’re weird. I think most people are the opposite.”

“Most people are wrong,” she says, matter of fact. “And I still think you’re texting someone.”

“Let it go,” I say as my phone buzzes. I look at it and grin a little bit, but then catch myself. “Don’t.”

Sara rolls her eyes. She goes back to reading and I go back to texting David about all the inconsistencies in Star Trek and how he’s a total freaking nerd. Although I really love it.

I get up and head to bed about an hour later. I have an early morning class the next day. Sara barely looks up from her book to say goodnight. I do my nightly routine and crawl into bed. I hate to stop texting David, but I really do need the sleep. I curl up and close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me, even though I keep thinking about him, about his kiss, about his muscular body pulling me against him.

My phone ringing wakes me up. I look around the room and the first thing I notice is the time on the clock. It’s after midnight. I groan a little bit and realize I’ve been asleep for a couple of hours and didn’t even realize it. I sit up and grab my phone as it keeps ringing. I’m too tired to check the front screen to see who it is and just swipe to answer.

“Hello?” I mumble.

“You fucked with the wrong person.”

The voice is low, distorted, but the words wake me up. I frown at the phone then hold it to my ear. “What? Who is this?”

“You fucked up,” the distorted voice says. It sounds like something from a bad horror movie. “You fucked with the wrong person. You think you can just get away with being a selfish little bitch? You. Fucked. Up. And now I’m coming for you.”

“Who the hell is this?”

But the phone disconnects.

I sit there and stare at it for a long moment before the feeling of sitting in the dark contracts down on me. I’m suddenly very aware of my dark room, of my clock glowing, of every sound around me. I get up, pull on a sweatshirt, and turn on my light. I pace around at the foot of my bed until I grab my phone again and call the only person I can think of.

“Yeah?” David says, answering on the fourth ring.

“Hey, uh, it’s me.”

“Chloe?” He sounds like he was dead asleep. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m so sorry. Uh, I just got this, uh, this phone call. And I’m pretty freaked out right now, I didn’t know who to call and—”

“Hey, slow down,” he says, and I realize that I was speaking rapidly. I take a breath to calm myself.

“I got a phone call a minute ago,” I say. “The voice was all, like, deep and weird, like it was a robot or something. And it just kept saying that I fucked up. That I fucked with the wrong person.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. When he speaks again, he sounds more awake. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just freaked out,” I say. “David, what the hell was that?”

“I’ll come get you.”

“Wait, you don’t have to,” I say. “It’s late and I know you have practice and—”

“I’ll be there in ten,” he says, and the line disconnects.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone. I think about calling him back, telling him not to come. It was just a prank call, totally fine, no big deal. I keep telling myself that, over and over again, but after five minutes I grab some clothes, shove them into a bag, and grab my toothbrush from the bathroom. I head downstairs just as his truck pulls up.

I climb into the passenger side and look at him. “I’m really sorry,” I say.

He puts a hand on my knee. “Don’t apologize,” he says, and pulls out. “What else did he say?”

“Just that I fucked up.” I try to remember, but that’s all I can think of. “How do you know it was a he? Maybe it was a girl changing her voice.”

“It was Erik,” he says, his face calm.

I want to argue, but I know I can’t. Erik’s the only person that makes sense. Nobody else would call me up and say any of those things. I close my eyes and let out a slow sigh.

“So he’s not done,” I say.

“He’s just trying to scare you.” David sounds angry, but his face seems passive. “He’s trying to get back at you.”

“It’s working.”

He frowns and shakes his head. “Come stay at my place tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about what to do about him.”

“Fine,” I say, then tilt my head a little and smile. “Hey, maybe it was you that called. If you wanted me to come sleep over, you didn’t have to go through so much trouble.”