My Accidental NFL Boyfriend

            “If he’s in love with me, then why do I feel like I’m going to cry?” I ask the question and let it linger like the air; always there, but we never really know what the chemicals of the context (or pollution content) for the matter is. All I knew it was a sentence that created a very awkward silence.

            Love isn’t what I wanted.

            Love was hurtful.

            It was evil.

            It was something my mother and father struggled with.

            “Jayla,” Alex says, pulling my hands from my frantic searching in the pile of underwear, “calm down first.”

            I hadn’t noticed how loud my breathing was.

            “Is this the first time you’ve been in love?”

            My head snaps toward his; his face a lot gentler than Caleb’s ever would be. I couldn’t fathom Caleb looking me with warm eyes.

            “It’s funny. It’s really funny,” I pull my hand out of his large fingers.

            “What is?”

            “It’s funny because you’re lying. You know what else is funny? Pain. Maybe I’m a masochist. Or a sadist. I haven’t felt this pain since I saw my first artwork that was going to a museum go up into flames.”

            “Jay, calm down.”

            “Don’t call me Jay. I’m not your Jay, I’m not my parents Jay, and I sure as hell am not Caleb’s Jay. I’m Jayla. The same Jayla that got spit on in highschool and halfway through college. The same Jayla who’s getting spit on now, and getting lied to through the spit.”

            “Okay, I’ll tell Caleb I couldn’t find you.” He gives me a weird look, as if he was offended, and walks out. There you go. Walk you bitch, I don’t want to see another football player up close for my entire career.

            My phone rings. Right on time, like always. The time where you don’t want to pick up because you’re going to break down, but if you don’t pick up they will call a billion times. It was that restricted call.

            “Hello?”

            “Jayla.”

            “Hello? Who is this?”

            “Jayla, please. Please stop running away from me.” The voice is muffled.

            “Who is this?”

            “Jayla.”

            “Hello?”
            “I see you.”

            I look up panicky at those same blue eyes.

            They were warm.

            Before I even knew what I was doing, I ran into those arms. Those arms that tortured me and protected me at the same time.

            “Jayla, I thought you ran from me,” Caleb says in my hair.

            “I did. I sure as hell did, you asshole.”

            “You’re not leaving me again. I can’t take your cute little butt swaying when you run.”