Page 27 of Love at a 7-Eleven

"Uh, yes, thank you, but you don't have to—I can pay for my tab."

"No, no, it's fine. It's just pie and fries. I'll mark it as a comp. It's so cool that you come in here. I was so mad at you about Makoa, though."

She spoke to him for another minute and then and helped him package the food. They took a picture together and one of the cooks came out to talk to him as well. Caleb smiled and pretended everything hadn't just fallen apart with Lila. He was normally a strong, dominant, take-charge sort of man, and he left that diner feeling all turned around and mixed up. He was confused as to how it could have gone so very wrong with Lila. He acted normal and made it through the conversations, but war was being waged in his mind.

Caleb went through the motions for the next two days while he was in Chicago. He met with a few different athletes and even saw Lila's brother again at the gym. He made more video and continued to be as productive as possible. He sent the footage to Bailey. He knew he would have to take care of things with her when they were face-to-face, and those days before he could talk to her were awkward for him.

His soul was restless, and he prayed constantly for answers but never got any. He wanted to see Lila again before he left Chicago but it didn't happen. He was nervous and overwhelmed at the thought of breaking Bailey's heart, but the feelings were worse when he considered breaking Lila's. His own feelings were tied in with Lila's.

He went on with his life as best he could, interacting with Marcus, his family, and the other athletes in Chicago. But it took a lot out of him. He was already feeling under the weather by the end of his trip, and his first day back in L.A., he woke up feeling feverish and out of it with a horrible sore throat. It had also been four days since he had seen or heard from Lila. He was officially miserable.

Chapter 11

Caleb

It was eleven o'clock in the morning when he heard Bailey's voice.

"Hellooo?" she said quietly. "Good morning, sunshine."

"I’m sick," Caleb said, his voice coming out a hoarse, deep moan.

"I know. You texted me that last night. I knew you didn't have any groceries in the house, so I went to the store and stocked you up. There's all sorts of soup, some crackers, popsicles, I even bought some throat lozenges, and nice tissue with lotion in it… stuff like that."

"You didn't have to do all that," he said, sitting up in bed. He took the pillow that was on the bed next to him and stacked it behind his back.

"Are you hopping out of bed? Would you like me to make you some food now?" she asked, smiling at him. Her smile dropped a little. "Goodness, Caleb, you have lost weight. I thought the last footage you sent made you look thinner, but it's true. You've lost weight. How long have you been feeling bad?"

Bailey sat down on the bed next to him and reached out to hold his hand. She looked at him with such affection that his chest ached. He gently pulled his arm out of her grasp.

"I don't want to get you sick."

"Oh, I don't care. I'm probably going to get it from you, anyway. I'm planning on being over here today. I need to get some work done, and I prefer using your computer."

"You have the software on your laptop," he said, sitting up further on the bed.

This all felt wrong. It was nice to have someone caring about him and willing to do tasks when he was feeling sick. But this was wrong. All of these actions felt far too intimate. He had never so much as kissed this woman, and yet he had let her into his life in ways that were too familiar. She was in his bedroom unannounced, and he knew it wasn't right. He had to say something to let her know things had changed. He owed that to Lila. He owed it to Bailey and to himself. He blinked, praying silently for clarity and help.

"I know, but your monitor's so much nicer. I get more done when I'm at the office. And I don't have to be at my other job until three."

She was moving around his room like it was her own. She took the pants that were on the end of his bed and began to straighten them and fold them. She went to his window and cracked the blinds to let in some natural light. Caleb was sweaty and sick, and he could think of nothing but telling her the truth. His head was pounding—a hot, pulsing signal of pain. He squinted, trying to think of the words he wanted to say and in what order he wanted to say them.

"Hey, Bailey?" he said, finally.

"Yeah? Do you want me to close the blinds? I'm sorry. You probably have a headache. I thought it might feel good to let some sunshine in."

"No, it's good, it's just… can you hang on for one second? I was going to talk to you."

"I'm sorry for waking you up," she said. "I knew you got home at eight last night, so I figured you had a good night's sleep by now. You got some good footage in Chicago. I'm anxious to get going on it this morning. I bought groceries, too. I had to get them here because some of them were frozen."

She was on the move, straightening his room.

"Bailey, hang on. I need to talk to you about life, and our lives, because things might have to change."

"What does that mean?" she asked, turning to look at him with a blank expression.

His head was pounding and all he could think about was Lila, even in the midst of the pulsating pain. "I met someone in Chicago," he said.

She blinked. "What do you mean? You met lots of people."

---