Yet…he makes my heart race with anticipation any time I converse with him. He puts a smile on my face. He knows exactly what to say to make me laugh.
So why is this so complicated? Why am I making this so complicated?
“Earth to D. Let’s roll. I don’t want to miss happy hour.”
Pulling myself from…well, myself, I slide off the barstool and meet an impatient Zoe at the door.
“One drink, Zoe. I mean it.”
She throws a mischievous grin over her shoulder. “Whatever you say.”
Zoe’s already downed three drinks in the hour since we arrived.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Well, well. Check out who Thursday ladies night dragged in.”
A grin overtakes my face. “They let you in here?”
“I am me.”
“You always were so humble, Caleb.” I stand and give him a quick hug. “What are you doing here? You said Lola’s wasn’t your scene.”
“And I thought it wasn’t your scene either.”
“Fair point.”
He hikes his thumb over his shoulder as he takes a seat next to me. “The idiots brought me out. Deemed it ‘good for me’.”
“Help you heal your broken heart?”
“Supposedly. Every time I try to explain to them that I’m fine and feel good about the split, it’s a waste of breath.” Caleb winces. “Shit, D. That sounded horrible. I didn’t mean it like I don’t care or anything like that. It’s—”
I hold up a hand. “Stop. I’m the last person you need to explain anything to, Caleb. I was part of it—I understand.”
“Thank you. I felt like an ass for a moment there.”
“Just a moment?”
“I wasn’t that awful, was I?”
“Toward the end?” I shrug. “A little, but that’s my fault too.”
“You were perfect, D.”
“Oh stop it. I was not, but let’s not rehash all that. How’s baseball going?”
The smile he gives me is different, like he feels free to be focused on his game. I think part of what held us back was that Caleb wanted baseball more than he wanted me.
I’m relieved he can have that now.
“It’s great. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time my game was this sharp. We only need to win two more games and we’re in the playoffs.”
“Excellent!” I hold my hand out for a fist bump and he complies, making explosion noises at the end. Yeah, that secret handshake there should have been a sure sign we’d have been better off staying friends.
“How are things with you?”
“Good…I think.”
“Yeah? And how’s that guy you’re seeing?”
“What?” I sputter, nearly spitting my drink out. I wipe away the tiny bit that managed to dribble down my chin. “What guy?”
“The one who had you all smiley a couple weeks ago. Is he not in the picture anymore?”
“Oh!” I smack my forehead. “Duh. I forgot all about that. He’s in the picture…sort of, but he’s not ‘my guy’ or anything. We’re not dating.”
“So, you’re…”
“Texting,” I provide.
“Just texting? Wait—have you ever met this guy?”
“No.”
His dark brows inch down, a crease forming between them. “How did you two start this…texting relationship?”
“He had the wrong number. I assumed it was Liam—you know, because he’s always losing his phone and having to change his number.” I wave my hand. “Anyway, we kept texting after that.”
“Like…naughty stuff?”
“Only you would be so brazen as to ask your ex-girlfriend that kind of question.”
Caleb smirks, and it almost makes me miss him. “I always was forward.”
“You were a perfect gentleman with me.”
“You were different.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, no, not naughty stuff. Normal things, like what we’re currently doing, or he helps decide what I’m going to eat, or—”
“You always were terrible at that,” he interrupts.
“Shut up. I know. We’re having fun, keeping it casual, not labeling anything—not that there is anything to label. We’re…”
“Getting to know each other?”
“Sure. That sounds about right.”
“Are you going to meet him?”
I twist my lips, thinking. I don’t know anything about Zach, not where he lives, not what he does for a living—hell, I don’t even know how old he is. We’re practically strangers, but there’s this pull to him. He’s the first person I text in the morning now, and I want to tell him all about my day. He’s the one I turn to when I need a laugh.
But do I want to meet him?
I don’t know.
“We’ll see.”
“That’s all I’m going to get, huh?”
I shrug. “For now.”
Caleb sighs. “Just be careful, D? Okay? We might not be an item anymore, but I still give a shit about you.”
“I still give a shit about you too.”
“So, what are you drinking? You want me to grab you another?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d love a water. I’m trying to stay sober.” I point toward Zoe, who’s out on Lola’s petite dance floor grinding against a random guy. “Someone needs to watch that one.”
“Oh good Lord. The kid is barely eighteen. A great arm on him, but he’s too young for Zoe to sink her claws into.”
“Well go rescue the poor kid and grab me a water.”
He stands and salutes me. “Yes, ma’am!”
I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and pull it out.
Zach: Are you behaving yourself?
Me: Define “behaving”.
Zach: Not doing shots off the bartender’s stomach. Not caressing strange men. Not making out with a woman dressed in a banana suit.
Me: Did that last one happen to you?
Zach: I had to witness it, if that counts for anything. My roommate is a bit…let’s say social.
Me: I, too, have a social roommate, and I’m babysitting her tonight. I only imbibed one alcoholic beverage and plan to drag her drunk ass out of here at a decent time.
Zach: You’re such a responsible wrong number.
Me: Are you calling me boring?
Zach: No…but also maybe yes. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. I’m boring too.
Me: Can we be boring together then?
Zach: Why else do you think I still talk to you?
Me: You say the sweetest things.
“Is that him?” Caleb asks as he sets my water down in front of me.
I click my screen off and smile up at him. “Yep. He told me I was boring.”
“Wow. Sounds like a keeper.”
“Did you say that in sarcasm font?”
“Oh hell yes.” He takes a swig of his beer. “What kind of dude tells a chick she’s boring? How will that help him score any points?”
“One, he’s not trying to jump into my pants, so there’s no need to score points. Two, it was a compliment. You know I don’t like this scene, and I also think you know I’m boring. It was one of the things that drove us apart. I like staying at home cuddled up on the couch surrounded by junk food. I knit, for crying out loud! I’m not wild. I’m not reserved, but I’m not outrageous. I like boring. It’s…comforting.”
“I always did like how comfortable in your own skin you are. You never try to come up with something clever when people ask about your hobbies. You just tell them you knit and that’s that.”
“I knitted penis potholders,” I say proudly.
Caleb breaks out in laughter. “Only you, D. Only you.”
“D! Do a shot with me!” Zoe stumbles her way over to our table, the barely-eighteen-year-old in tow. “Shots!” She glances over at Caleb. “Well, hell, lookie who we have here—Caleb fuckin’ Mills. How ya doing, hot stuff? How’s that broken heart of yours me
nding?”
“Hey, gorgeous,” he greets, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and unwinding her arm from around his teammate’s neck. “I’ll take her from here, Skeet.”
The kid seems relieved and mumbles a quick thanks before scurrying off.
“Caleb, be a dear and grab us shots.”
“I’m not doing any shots, Zoe. I kind of want to scram.”
“Dude, no. We never go out. This was supposed to be your night out to forget this loser”—she points toward Caleb—“who dumped your ass.”
“It was mutual,” Caleb butts in.
“Whatever,” Zoe says, waving her hand and almost smacking an unsuspecting guy who appears way too young to be in the bar. “Now, let’s have some fun. Let’s do shots and dance and move on.”
“What about Mr.—”
“Shots it is!” I interrupt, not wanting Caleb to spill the beans about Mr. Wrong Number.
His eyes widen as understanding dawns on him. “Right, yeah. Shots for the ladies. Be right back.”
As Caleb heads toward the bar and Zoe eyes up her next target, I unlock my phone and shoot off a text.
Me: Pray for me. Zoe wants to do shots.
Zach: Shots are never a smart idea. I’ve fallen victim to many a shot and have puked in numerous bushes.
Me: Like bushes bushes or BUSHES? *waggles brows*
Zach: That shit right there is why I keep you around.
Me: Stop. You’re making me blush.
Zach: Liar.
Zach: Be careful, okay? And maybe let me know when you get home?
Me: Will do.
“Zoe, we need to go home.” I pull the beer glass from her lips.
“But I wanna…”
“No. It’s late and I don’t want to be out any later than I need to be. We walked, and though it isn’t far, I don’t want to be out when the other drunks leave the bar.”
“You’re walking, D? Do you think that’s a smart idea? You should call a cab.”
“It’s only a couple blocks. It’s no biggie, Caleb.”
“It is. You are not walking. Let me drive these guys home and I’ll come right back for you.”
“No, I don’t want to wait around that long, and anyway, weren’t you drinking earlier?”
“I had one beer three hours ago. I’m fine. Now stay here and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes tops.”
I sigh. “I could walk home in that amount of time.”
“Let me do this for you.”
“No, I’ll call a cab.”
The stare he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe me.
I huff. “I promise, okay? I’ll call one right now and spend money on a ride that will take twice as long as me walking home for free. I promise.”
He studies me for a beat too long, making sure I’m telling the truth. Giving a satisfied nod, he agrees. “Fine, but text me when you make it home. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Caleb, you’re leaving?” Zoe pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “We were doing shots.”
“No more shots, you drunkard. Help D get you ladies home, and maybe grab a coffee.”
“I was celebrating!” She throws her arms up and does a little dance. “Because the douchebag is gone!”
He snorts and lifts a brow my way. “Douchebag, huh?”
I shrug. “Her drunk words, not my sober ones.”
“Call a cab?”
“Promise.”
He gives me a wave and hurries off to gather his own drunk friends and head home.
I reach into my purse to pull my phone out. I go to move my wallet out of the—HOLY FUCK.
Where is my wallet?!
“Shit! No, no, no!”
“Shots, shots, shots!” Zoe chants.
“No! No more shots! My wallet was stolen.”
“Here,” she says, digging into her purse. “Money.”
She hands me two one-dollar bills, and I want to laugh and strangle her all at once. I know for a fact that’s all the money she has because we both only carry our ID, a flimsy wallet, and forty bucks in cash when we go out.
“Thanks, Zoe. You’re a lifesaver,” I say sarcastically. She misses that part and beams at me, holding two thumbs up.
“You got it, dude.”
I groan and pull my phone out of my back pocket, thankful it wasn’t stolen too. Who to call… Who to call…
Caleb!
I spin around on the stool and search the bar for my ex. He’s nowhere to be found.
Great.
I turn back around and eye Zoe, who’s now passed out on the bar top.
“You’re a mess, Zoe,” I tell her sleeping form. “What in the hell are we going to do?”
My phone buzzes.
Zach: You still doing okay?
Me: No. Everything is shit.
Zach: What? Why? Did something happen?
Me: My wallet was stolen. I was about to call a cab because I promised a friend I would, but I think I’ll have to walk home with my drunk roomie now.
Zach: You are not walking. No. It’s too late.
Me: It’s only a few blocks away. It’ll suck trying to force Zoe to walk straight for that long, but I’ll be fine.
Zach: NO.
Zach: Where are you?
Me: Why? How do we know we even live in the same state?
Zach: Area codes. We aren’t that far from one another.
Me: No way? I never even thought to investigate.
Zach: Yep. Now, where are you?
Me: Lola’s in Wildwood.
Zach: Give me five minutes.
The noise of the bar comes back full force as I pull my attention from Zach. I reach over to brush back the hair lying over Zoe’s face and shake my head at her.
“Only you go out to celebrate your friend and get drunk off your ass. You’re lucky I adore you.”
My phone shakes on the bar and I quickly snatch it up, unlocking the screen to read the message.
Zach: A cabbie will be there in five minutes. He’ll help you get your roommate in the car. The fare and tip are all taken care of. If he doesn’t arrive, call me and I’ll handle it.
Me: Zach…
Zach: Delia…
Me: You didn’t have to do that!
Zach: Are you kidding me? Yes, I did. I wasn’t going to let you sit there with all the wild drunks during the thirty or so minutes it’d take me to drive there, so I went with the next best option.
Me: You’d have driven all the way here just to take me home?
Zach: In a damn heartbeat.
5
Me: I fell asleep thinking of you.
Zach: Please tell me we’re about to sext.
Me: The moment I woke up, I ran my hand down my chest between my bountiful breasts. I slowly dragged it across my flat stomach, goose bumps rising along my skin at the touch. It wasn’t until I was right at the opening of my white cotton panties that I decided I wasn’t going to touch myself because WE ARE NOT SEXTING, YOU PERVERT.
Zach: I hate you so much right now.
Zach: I HAD A SOLID BONER GOING
Me: Did you really?
Zach: What do you expect? I’m a man, dammit! We like titties and goose bumps and white cotton panties and sex. YOU ARE EVIL.
Zach: Can we still sext later?
Me: NO!
Me: Maybe.
Me: We’ll see.
Zach: Really?!
Me: OMG NO!
Me: ;-)
Zach: I am so confused, yet still slightly turned on.
Me: Please stop telling me about your boner.
Zach: I will never not tell you about my boner. That’s not the kind of friendship I want.
Me: You’re so weird.
Zach: And…
Me: *rolls eyes* And I like it. I LIKE IT, OKAY?!
Zach: I know you do.
Me: UGH!
Me: FYI, I’m not sexting you. Ever.
Zach: But I’m REALLY cute…
Me: Oh puh-lease. Ev
ery rando on the other side of the screen will say that shit. You need to prove it.
Zach: Geez, Delia, if you wanted a picture of me, all you had to do was ask.
Me: I don’t want a picture because I’m not sexting you.
Zach: I’m sending you a picture anyway.
Zach: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
I’m scared as hell to push the download button—I mean, it could be a dick pic or something. I don’t think Zach is a douchebag, but you never know.
Screw it.
I bite my lip as I watch the circle spin and the image comes through.
“Awww!”
Me: YOU SENT ME A PICTURE OF A SMILING GOAT!
Me: You’re officially my favorite person ever.
Zach: Told you I was cute. ;-)
Me: How did you know they were my weakness?
Me: Also, will you please buy me one?
Zach: 1. EVERYONE loves smiling baby goats. That’s just science. 2. No.
Me: Rebuttal… 1. Excellent point. 2. I think you spelled yes wrong. Y-E-S.
Zach: N-O.
Me: I knitted you a damn PENIS POTHOLDER. Least you could do to repay me for my kindness is to buy me a baby goat. Don’t be a jerk, Zach. No one likes those.
Zach: Speaking of those potholders…when am I getting those? We live close. We could always meet…
Texting (The Complete Series Page 4
