Page 10 of The Goalie

“Look,” he said. At least he sounded as though he didn’t want to talk to me either. “I’m not trying to interrupt your night in of binge-watching epic fantasy television shows or whatever else you’re into. I just realized I left a few of my things at your place and I wanted to swing by right now to pick them up.”

“Right now?” I all but yelped. I stood up straight, suddenly furious with the audacity of Josh. “Just so you know, Josh, I barely got home, okay? I haven’t been sitting around watching TV since you’ve left. I was just at Dan Holmes’s birthday party.”

“I wasn’t trying to say—”

“You knew exactly what you were saying,” I said. I began to pace up and down the length of my living room, one hand holding the phone to my ear, the other across my chest. “So don’t try to pretend otherwise. What items are you missing?”

“What?” Now it was his turn to be caught off guard.

Well, good.

“You said you still had stuff over here,” I said. I turned on the ball of my right foot and nearly fell over. I managed to catch myself just in time. “I’ll get it together and you can pick it up at a different time.”

“I could swing by now—”

“I’m busy right now,” I said, cutting him off. “In fact, I’m going to have to go, so you can either tell me now about the stuff or you can text me later.”

Josh sighed through his nose. I could picture him now, hanging his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, putting hands on his hips. In times like these, when he was exasperated by my choices, he reminded me of my father. I hated it. It reduced me to a child, made me feel like I was stupid or helpless or incapable.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you now. There are a couple of shirts in your closet, and the gray joggers you used to wearall the time.”

“I don’t know why you’re giving me such a hard time about that. As your girlfriend at the time, I was entitled to borrow your clothes from time to time.”

“I don’t understand why girls think that.” Now, he’d be shaking his head. Whenever his voice increased, he would shake his head like it was my fault it had come to this. “Just because we’re fucking or committed or whatever does not mean you are entitled to anything of mine.”

“You know, you breaking up with me was probably the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said. The words came out of my mouth. I didn’t try to stop them.

“Oh yeah?” The condescending tone was cranked up to full. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because I don’t have to put up with the bullshit of you lecturing me like I’m some kind of child!” I all but screamed. “If you want your shit, come get it a different day. I’m busy. And no, it’s not plopping on the couch and watching television. In fact, it’s none of your business. Just make sure to call ahead to make sure I’m home and that I’m even in the mood to see you at all.”

I hung up before he could respond, and I turned off my phone. Part of me was guilty because I was almost positive Lucy would be calling, wondering where I was. I quickly walked over to my laptop and sent her a message via Facebook that I was heading off to sleep. At least this way, she wouldn’t think I was about to be murdered.

I rubbed the temples of my head, padding back into my living room. As much as I wanted to tell Josh how super active and social I had become, the truth of the matter was I had every intention of sitting on my couch and binge-watching television. Hell, if I fell asleep on the couch because I was too lazy to walk to my bedroom, more power to me. I worked hard at my job and on my time off, I should be able to do what I wanted without getting disapproving looks or judgment, especially from the man who was supposed to be the love of my life.

“It’s not like you have to deal with it anymore,” I reminded myself, dropping my hands to my side.

Just as I brought Hulu up on my Roku, there was a knock at my door. I frowned and slowly stood up. My first instinct was to rush into the kitchen and pretend I wasn’t there as a way to avoid dealing with people. Every now and then my neighbor checked in to make sure I was okay—an older man knew I was living on my own and looked out for me—but besides that, I rarely had company. My friends knew better than to just drop by without calling first. Not because I was antisocial by any means, but because I didn’t like unexpected visitors—even friendly ones.

However, something inside of me compelled me to at least look through my peephole and check who was on the other side of the door.

When I saw him, my heart stopped.

What’s he doing here?

I opened the door a crack and arched a brow at him.

“Are you here to yell at me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I swear to you, I had no idea it was you or else I would have stayed far away.”

“I’m here to fuck you.”

I grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind me. I ignored how hot my cheeks felt because of his comment. The last thing I wanted was for him to take credit in any way over how my body responded while in his presence.

“Are you insane?” I asked him. “You can’t just say that out loud. Someone might call the cops on you.”

“Lack of a social life hitting you hard?” he asked.

“Why are you really here?” I asked, hands on hips. “And don’t bullshit me, okay?”