Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I stare down at my cellphone, mentally willing Roland to call me. My shoulder whines at the weight of my gym bag, and I adjust it on my shoulder. When another minute passes and nothing happens, I grit my teeth and look over the parking lot for the umpteenth time. Still no Weston. Jackass.

The only thing that's worse than being stood up is the fact that Roland warned me this would happen. When I told him my plans to have a drink with Weston after practice, he confidently informed me that Weston wouldn't show.

Sure enough....no Weston.

I tap the contact tab of my phone and thumb through my pathetic excuse for a friends list. It doesn't take long for the hard truth to surface: during my first year I've been at college, I haven't made a single friend. Instead all I've made are hazy memories from a slew of drunken nights.

My pride demands that I put the phone away and just walk home. The soreness in my muscles begs for me to see reason. Eventually the sore muscles win, and I surrender to calling Roland.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man. It's me. So – "

"Bored at the bar already?" Roland asks, cutting me off.

My hand balls into a fist noting the smattering of 'told you so' condescension in his voice.

"Shut up," I mutter. "Just come get me."

There's a beat of silence.

"What did I tell you?" he scolds. "I knew he wouldn't show."

"Whatever. Are you on your way or not?"

"That depends. Have you – "

Roland's voice is interrupted by an incoming call. A name flashes across the screen – a name that hasn't called my phone in quite some time.

"Roland, I gotta go," I say, and without waiting for his response, I switch the call over.

My frustration with Roland steps aside to welcome in the new emotion of anxiety. A cold, clammy sweat spreads across my palm, and I clutch the phone tightly to my ear.

"Hello?"

I hold my breath waiting for the response. A feminine and familiar voice emits through the small speaker, but it's powerful enough to make my stomach churn endlessly.

"Trey! Gosh, I'm so glad you answered. How are you?"

A million and one responses hang at the edges of my lips. Miserable. Lonely. Pathetic. Bruised. Broken-hearted. Missing you every day you're away from me. Instead I settle for a response that's a little less dramatic.

"I'm fine," I snap. "Why are you calling, Annie?"

I close my eyes, hating the fact that I can imagine what she looks like right this second. She must be wringing her hands together and pacing - the phone pressed firmly between her ear and shoulder. She normally paces when she talks on the phone anyway, but when she gets nervous, the hand wringing starts up too.

"I...I was just worried about you," she whispers with a sigh. "After what happened last night?"

The scene in my mind radically shifts, pulling forward the image of Bennett nearly groping my ex-girlfriend on the front lawn at Erik's party. Even if they aren't serious, I know Annie. She was having fun. She was actually enjoying having his hands on her.