Page 81 of The Way We Collide

I understand why everyone is in love with him. He’s a healthy, red-blooded, hot-as-fuck professional athlete, and watching him play, I was practically drooling for four hours.

Then she appeared, the wake-up call I needed.

Turning hard in my bed, I’m hot and cold, and my head is starting to hurt. Haddy cries from across the hall, and I go to her, doing my best to sing and rub her back and try to get her back to sleep before creeping into my own bed again.

Only, I’m not doing much better. My neck is sweaty, and my stomach cramps. Haddy cries again, and I’m too sad and exhausted. I pick her up and carry her to my bed.

Still, she squirms and struggles. At one point, I look over, and she’s on all fours with her little face on her hands, rocking back and forth. It makes me wonder if somehow she’s picking up on my emotional turmoil.

Another hour passes. My head hurts worse, and my stomach is empty. I tuck several long pillows around the baby and go to the kitchen to search for a snack.

Picking up my phone, I intend to search for foods to help you sleep. Instead, I see a text from Dylan.

Dylan

Please say my brother is not seeing Mikayla again. She’s the worst!!! And I’d kind of hoped the two of you might… you know… (winking emoji) What’s going on? I miss you all!!!

Exhaling a sigh, I take a banana from the basket on the table. I don’t really like bananas, but I read somewhere they help you sleep. Bananas and cherries, right?

Going to the refrigerator, I dig around until I find the plastic bin of cherries on the back shelf and take them out as well.

Then I stare at Dylan’s text and want to cry. Then I mentally scold myself for getting too attached. I asked Hendrix for a favor, and he very generously agreed.

I promised I wouldn’t ask more of him. Then I masturbated in front of him while he was naked in the shower. Then I kissed him in the pantry.

My head pounds, and I feel… really bad.

Opening the plastic container, I take out a cherry and slip it into my mouth. Instead of a splash of sweet-tart flavor, it tastes like dirt. Not like it’s rotten, more like it’s old. Tilting the package to the side, I see it’s not past the due date.

I peel the banana and take a small bite. It doesn’t taste right either. Returning to the fridge, I put them all inside. I don’t like to waste food, and perhaps I can use it for a smoothie or something tomorrow.

Lifting my phone, I see it’s almost 4 a.m., and I stagger to my bedroom.

I crawl into the bed and put my hand on Haddy’s back. She’s so warm, but she seems to be sleeping at last.

Lying in the dark, I look at Dylan’s text on my phone. I think about texting her back. It’s almost six in Newhope, and I miss them so much. I miss Mimi and Dylan and all my friends.

Scooting closer, I put my face at the top of Haddy’s head and inhale her sweet baby scent, letting her gentle perfume comfort me. I deny the tears heating my eyes. I’m exhausted, that’s all.

I’m not lonely. My heart isn’t broken. Good lord, where isthatcoming from?

Still I ache, and I’ll never fall asleep.

At some point, I must’ve, because Haddy’s crying wakes me. Morning light filters through the blinds, and I’m covered in something wet and stinky.

Stinkyis the wrong word. I’m covered in somethingfoul.

“Ugh…” I sit up slowly, looking down to see I’m covered in baby vomit. “Oh, Haddy…”

She hiccup-cries, and I lift her into my arms. First stop is the bathroom. I switch on the water in the large, garden tub, then I go across the hall to her room, searching for a clean pacifier.

Her crying is weak and sad, and when I give her the pacifier,she closes her eyes, scrubbing her head against my arm like she’s searching for comfort. She’s hot, and I’m sure she’s running a fever.

“My poor baby.” I cuddle her, grabbing a fresh diaper and a clean onesie.

My head hurts worse, and I really need to find baby Tylenol. Placing Haddy on the soft carpet, I go to the bathroom for a towel, but as soon as I enter the room, my throat tightens.

My mouth goes dry, and I race to the toilet, stumbling on the rug as I hit my knees. I slam the lid open and vomit hard into the bowl. I heave and retch, and my elbow bends as tears flood my eyes.

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