Loving the football player

Twenty eight

The hours passed. And as they did, my mind was driving my crazy. My mind was scolding my heart for being so dumb and calling him. You shouldn't have called him. We don't need him. We've gone by years without him...

I didn't even know if or when he was going to see my voice mail but I was still lying on my couch wide away anyway. You're pathetic! My mind looked down at me and I sighed. To be fair, I was being pathetic. I was the one saying how everyone should be independent and how we shouldn't take anyone for granted. I don't know how or when did I get this attached to him.

And I know it sounds stupid and desperate and a million other things, but I just needed someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. I didn't want anyone turn into a 'macho man' and find my dad or whoever else was upsetting me and kicking his ass. I didn't want the man that would make a big scene in front of everyone. I just needed the guy that would be there, that he would let me cry on his shoulder, be vulnerable and then he would tell me that everything was going to be okay.

I was lost in my thoughts, but loud banging caught my attention. I looked at my phone... 1 AM. Who the hell is it at this time of night? The banging stopped for a minuted. I sighed thinking that whoever was at the door got bored or thought I was asleep or just left. But then, another set of bangs on the door made me jump.

"I'm coming." I yelled loud enough for the person outside my door to hear but not loud enough to wake up the neighbours.

But apparently, the person on the other side of the door was in such a hurry that my words were followed by another set of bangs. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. My neighbours are going to call the police on me.

"You're here..." I said when I opened the door and saw who it was.

"Of course I came." He said and got into my apartment.

The door hadn't even closed before I was brought up against a solid chest and two strong arms were around me, holding me in a tight grip like I was going to move.

"You're okay..." He mumbled. I don't know if he was saying it for me to hear or he was just thinking out loud but that's what he said.

"I'm fine, Stephan."

"What are you doing out of the hospital. I thought that they were going to keep you there for at least the night."

"I was okay enough to leave. Plus, I didn't want to spend the night. Hospitals creep me out."

"Can't say I blame you..." He says- mind you I'm still in his arms with my head pressed against his chest.

"You weren't there..." I whispered. I felt so needy and I felt like a child that was complaining to their parent about them not being there.

"I wanted to be there, trust me. I just didn't know if you wanted to see me. I mean, we weren't on speaking terms before and then I go and do something stupid like picking a fight with Ethan. I am the one to blame for you going to the hospital. I was the one who pushed Ethan and he lost his footing pushing you down." He said looking at me with the most guilty expression I've ever seen on him. "I wanted to go in the room and tell you how sorry I was."

"It wasn't your fault- well, not all of it. Ethan has a part in this too." I said and I feel him take a big breath. "Look, I get it. You had better things to do. I mean, why would you leave Sandra waiting to just be in the hospital with me."

"What are you talking about, Danny? I was there." He said pulling away.

"What?"

"I was there. I heard the doctor say you were okay and that your life wasn't in danger whatsoever. After that, yes, I left but I had to get Sandra home."