A Strange Arrangement

I opened my eyes and let them adjust to the surroundings.

“This isn't my room.” I thought as I remembered all the events that had taken place the night before. I peeked over my shoulder and saw Kris still sleeping peacefully.

“I've got to get up.”

I inched my way slowly out of the bed so I didn't disrupt my slumbering friend. I had never been good at getting up without waking the other person so I made my movements slow and direct this time. Once I was able to stand I stretched widely.

“What time is it?” I wondered as I pulled out my phone and checked the screen.

“Two text messages and six missed calls. Wow. And it's 4:52? Jesus. I need to shower.”

I left the room and walked towards my own. Kris' house phone began to ring.

“Ah, shit.” I looked at the caller ID. “Pennsylvania Call.”

“Yeah, well I figured that. Fuck. Should I pick it up? I mean I do technically live here. It's not like I'm answering his cell phone or something. It could be one of his teammates checking up on him, I suppose. Yeah, okay. I'm going to answer it.”

“Hello?”
“Uh, hello?” the man's voice on the other end said, clearly surprised by being answered by a female. “I think I may have the wrong number. Hold on-.”
“Are you looking for Kris?”
“Yeah actually.”
“You have the right number. He's sleeping right now. Just give me your name and I'll have him call you back. I have your number on the caller ID.”

“Oh okay, um, I'm Eric Beckner with the Philadelphia Inquirer.” he said and my heart beat ceased. “I just wanted to see if I could get a few words with him about his condition. So if you could have him call me back I would greatly appreciate that. Who am I speaking with, if I may ask?”

“Uh, I'm his friend, Al...lison..” I coughed as though that were the reason for my momentary pause.

“Alright, well thank you for your time Allison. I hope to hear from him soon.”

“No problem. Bye now.” I said hanging up the phone quickly.

“I'm such an idiot. I knew I shouldn't have answered it! Shit. Fuck!” My phone began alerting me of a new text message. I set Kris' house phone down on the counter and checked it immediately.

“From Sara:
Why aren't you replying to me?! Eric's going to try to reach Kris! Do not pick up his phone!”

“Wow, perfect timing. Way to go, Alexandria.” I thought to myself sarcastically.

My phone began ringing.

“Seriously? Can I get a break right now or-?” I didn't recognize the number on the screen but I'd already royally screwed up as much as I possibly could for that day I figured. Why not pick up at this point?

“Hello?”
“Hey, you!” said a voice I recalled from about 90 seconds prior.
“Eric?”
“Yeah, what's up?”
“Uh, not much. You?”

“How many phone numbers do you have? Shit.”

“Nothing too terribly exciting. Trying to get in contact with Kris Versteeg because, you know, he got injured last night. Someone named Allison picked up instead though. Probably his girlfriend but she wants to remain low key. I don't know. Speaking of last night's game, I heard you were there.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was there with Sara-,” I remembered her text message from the night before, “-meeting her boyfriend. He's a trainer for the Flyers.”

“So I hear. I ran into her in the hallway by the locker room during the first intermission. She said you had been there but you felt sick so you went home.”

“Oh yeah, I was feeling pretty nauseous. I just wanted to get home.” I heard Kris beginning to stir in his bedroom.

“Well hopefully you're feeling better today because I was thinking maybe we could do dinner tonight.”

“Um, you know I'm actually still pretty sick,” Kris began walking out of his room towards me. “But if anything changes, I'll call you back and let you know. Okay? Goodbye.” I finished hanging up.

“Who was that?” Kris asked me as he went into the kitchen.

“Uh, that was Sara. She wanted to see if I could cover some concert with her tonight but I figured I should probably stay here with you.” I said immediately wondering if that sounded like a weird excuse.

“Lexi,” he said as he poured himself some Gatorade, “I'm fine. My head's pounding a little but I highly doubt I'll die if you go out and do your job for a few hours.”

“No, it's okay. It's probably a lame band anyway.” I told him and he laughed. He saw his house phone sitting on the counter and picked it up looking at the latest incoming non missed call.

“Who called?” he asked me.

“Oh, uh, someone from the Inquirer actually. A writer named Eric Beckner. He wanted to get a few words on how you were doing.” I told him knowing it'd be foolish to try to hide the truth since Eric would probably keep calling. He was a journalist. I knew his mindset.

“Eric?” he repeated trying to remember the name. “Yeah, that guy's always in the locker room. Okay, I know who you're talking about.” He paused staring at me. “Hey. Didn't that phone number from the guy who dropped you off the other night, also belong to an 'Eric'?” he said grinning.

“Yeah. So?” I said beginning to stutter a little. “There are a lot of guys in the world named Eric, Kris! And I'm sure there's more than one at the Inquirer. Why would a sports writer even help us cover a film festival, hmm?” I retorted clearly stumping him.

“Answer: Because he likes me. But whatever...”

“That's true. Well let me call this guy back, I guess.” he said picking up the phone and pressing re-dial.

He paused waiting for Eric to answer. I held my breath in anticipation.

“Hey, this is Kris Versteeg. Is this Eric Beckner? […] Yeah, she just told me you called.” he said winking at me. “Feeling okay, you know. Bad migraine but that's it really. […] Uh, yeah that'd be fine. How about tomorrow? […] Sounds great. […] Okay, see you then.” he said hanging up.

“What happened?” I asked him eagerly.

“We're going to grab lunch tomorrow and do a little interview.”

“Really?” my voice got high pitched, “That's awesome. I'm pretty sure the doctor said you were supposed to be on bed rest for at least a week though. You should probably call him back and reschedule.”

“I'm a big boy, Lexi. I'll be fine. Oh man, I wonder what sorts of embarrassing things I can tell this guy about you?” he laughed.

“Do it and I'll knock you out again,” he laughed harder this time massaging his head which clearly was in pain. “Seriously though, don't mention me, please. I don't want this guy to think I can always get him “inside scoop” on you, you know?”

“Okay, I won't mention you.” he said taking another drink, “Hey! Hold on a second!” he rushed over to his front door. He came back holding that day's newspaper.

“What are you doing?” I asked studying him flipping the pages frantically. He held up a finger to me instructing me to wait.

“Ah, check that out!” he said holding up a page in the sports section to me. It was the score from the previous night's game. “5-3! I'm pretty sure you made a bet with me that if we won you'd buy me dinner.” I began laughing loudly at him even remembering our wager after all that had happened. “Go get ready because I'm in the mood for some Italian tonight!”