Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,63

said as I got out and headed into the hotel. The elevator seemed to take forever. About halfway up, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Yo,” I said as I answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” Alex barked into the phone. The elevator dinged on our floor and I stepped out.

“Just got off on our floor,” I replied, and the call went dead. Confused, I frowned at my phone. Our door opened down the hall, and Alex stuck his head out.

“You don’t know how to answer your fucking phone?” he growled as I entered the room. Of course, his shit was already packed and waiting by the door.

“I was pretty drunk,” I said with a shrug. It wasn’t something I did often during the season because it meant I had to work out twice as much. The night before I had gotten deep in my own head though.

“You don’t answer text messages either? Did you not even look at your phone this morning? Goddamn, what was I supposed to tell Coach if you didn’t make it back in time?” Alex was irate and pacing. His hand raked through his shoulder-length hair.

“Chill, I’m back in plenty of time.” I laughed as I dropped my room key to the desk.

Shock jolted through me when he spun and shoved me against the wall. His forearm was against my throat, and my temper flared. He got in my face and growled, “You think this is funny? I had no fucking clue where you went! You didn’t tell me. I assumed you came back here. Then I got back to the room and no roommate. All night, no roommate. This morning, no roommate. Oh and did I mention that same roommate couldn’t be bothered to answer any communication?”

I shoved him back. “You need to get a grip. I’m sorry. No, I don’t think it’s funny that you were worried. I didn’t have any missed calls or text messages this morning. I wasn’t intentionally being a dick. No, I didn’t tell you where I went last night because I was drunk and not really thinking clear.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was genuinely worried about you. I barely slept all night because I was so fucking worried. I didn’t know if I should notify the cops or the coaching staff. You could’ve been in a goddamn ditch somewhere.”

“You sound like my mom,” I said as I shook my head. “I said I was sorry.”

Pulling my phone out, I checked my calls and text messages. Sure enough I had fifteen missed calls throughout the night from Alex. There were also a series of text messages that got progressively more concerned.

“Dude, I’m sorry. When I looked at my phone this morning, none of this showed up. I should’ve called this morning, but I had a lot on my mind.” I frowned as I looked at the calls again. There was a call from Bleu. It wasn’t missed. It was answered, and it showed the call lasted forty-seven seconds.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

Hitting the number, I listened to it ring until it went to voicemail. “Hey, I missed your call,” I said as I turned my back to Alex. “Call me when you get a chance.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her how I felt, but a voicemail was a shitty way to tell her for the first time. Finally, I ended the message with, “I miss you.”

After I ended the call, I stared at my phone in confusion. Then I held it up to Alex.

“These messages weren’t on my lock screen, so I didn’t see them. I think Regi answered my phone while I was in the shower,” I said with a scowl.

Why didn’t she tell me I’d had a call? She was already at work or I’d call her and ask her what Bleu had said. Instead, I sent her a text.

Me: Hey, did you answer my phone this morning?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my shit on you. It was a little over the top. I really was worried about you,” Alex said with a regretful expression.

“A little? Anyway, it’s all good. I better pack,” I said as I gathered my shaving kit and the rest of my belongings. Stripping out of my dirty clothes, I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the team logo on it. After digging around through my stuff, I realized that I’d only put one pair of socks in my bag. I’d been