Texting (The Complete Series

by Teagan Hunter

  “How’d you know I was eating cereal too?”

  He lets out a soft chuckle. “Because I know you. I see your cereal bowls in the sink every morning. I think you’re addicted to the stuff.”

  “Am not.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  I roll over until I’m facing him and watch as his chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern. “You’re not wrong there. I couldn’t even lie to my parents as a kid. I tried sneaking out once, made it all the way to the end of the driveway before the guilt ate away at me and I turned back and rang the doorbell, crying and apologizing like a moron.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Laughed. They had heard me climbing out my window and then watched from behind the curtains.”

  “See? I told you your feet were big.”

  I kick at him and he somehow manages to trap my feet between his legs. Neither of us makes a move to separate.

  “They sound cool—your parents, I mean,” he says.

  “I feel like I won the lottery when it comes to them. It was touch and go for a while, but they finally found me and I got my forever family.”

  He turns my way, pushing himself up until he’s resting his head on his hand, our feet still tangled together. “Back it up—you’re adopted?”

  “Delia never told you?”

  “No. We didn’t really talk about you though. No offense, we just didn’t dig that deep into our lives.”

  “Does she know where you go on Sundays?” I don’t know why I ask it and I don’t know why I care, but I do.

  “Nope.”

  “Good.”

  His eyes spark with interest at my answer, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “You said it took you a while to find your family?”

  “I was placed with them when I was six. They were the first ones to stick. My birth mother gave me up when I was two and then I sort of bounced around in the system. Everyone wants babies, not toddlers.”

  “You were two?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can I ask…why? Do you know her?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure why, but I’m glad she did. I got Sofia and Rafe out of it, and no, I don’t know her. I don’t have any desire to know her. My parents are the only ones I need, you know?”

  When you tell people you’re adopted, you usually get one of two reactions: they look at you like you’re a lonely, lost puppy, or they think you’re some sort of pariah.

  Caleb’s looking at me with something entirely different in his eyes.

  Wonder. Amazement. Surprise.

  “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting you.”

  “Does that include you?” I tease.

  “That includes me.” He pauses and screws his face up, thinking. “Wait, no. Not me.” Another pause. “What the hell…yeah, totally includes me.”

  “Caleb Mills, do you want me?”

  “Define want.”

  “Do you want to bang me? Because I thought we talked about the no-banging rule already.”

  He looks at me and grins; it’s wolfish. “I’ll make an exception if you will.”

  I swallow down the yes I want to shout from the rooftops because I know he’s only joking right now, and then I roll my eyes and playfully push his grinning face away. “Keep dreamin’, bucko.”

  He falls onto his back, laughing and dragging me with him until my head rests on his shoulder.

  “Have you been sleeping on the floor this whole time?”

  “Yep.”

  “But it’s so uncomfortable.”

  “What did you think I was sleeping on?” he asks. “Honestly I figured you’d be in here snooping around with me gone all the time.”

  “To do what? Read your oh-so-enticing comic books?”

  “Are you hating on my epic collection?”

  “Never.” He huffs out a sound that tells me he doesn’t believe me. “Okay, maybe a little. I figured you had an air mattress or something.”

  “Nope. Just me, my blankets, and my pillow.”

  “Why don’t you come sleep with me? I’m not going to be able to sleep knowing you’re on the floor in here. You’re an ass for not telling me you were.”

  “I am not sleeping in your bed with you.” He’s quick on the decision, and I have to wonder why.

  “Because you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  I lift myself up until I can see into his eyes. “Are you serious?”

  He peers back at me with a serious stare, unblinking. “Yes.”

  I simply nod and return to my previous position, head resting on his shoulder, our lower halves wrapped together.

  We don’t talk. We don’t move. We don’t overthink the position we’re in.

  We lie there, together.

  Because deep down, we both know there’s no denying the attraction between us.

  And there’s no denying we can’t do anything about it.

  9

  “Riddle me this, roomie: it’s the first Friday night we’ve both had off since you moved in and you’re sitting on the couch…why?”

  He glances away from the TV and up at me. “That’s not a riddle.”

  “No, it’s not, but it is a fair question.”

  Caleb grins, shaking his head and slouching farther into the couch. I curl my legs underneath me and take a seat, staring at him.

  Moments tick by and I don’t move. Neither does he.

  “Are you going to do that for much longer?”

  “Do what?” I ask innocently.

  “Creep on me.”

  “Excuse me, I do not creep. I…admire until I’m noticed.”

  “So you creep.”

  “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

  He aims the remote at the TV and presses pause on the episode he’s watching. He makes a show of setting the clicker on the table before settling back into the couch, turning my way.

  Huffing out a sigh, he says, “What do you want, Zoe?”

  I twirl a lock of hair around my finger, doing my best to appear nonchalant and harmless. “Well, it’s Friday.”

  “Yes. It’s been Friday all day and it’ll be Friday for several more hours. Next point.”

  “It’s Friday and we’re sitting on the couch watching Netflix.”

  He motions toward me, signaling for me to wrap this up. “I think we’ve established this too.”

  “Right. So, we’re in agreement then?”

  “Agreement about what?”

  “Going out, duh.”

  His eyes fall to slits. “No one said anything about going out.”

  “I implied it.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. You’re just a little slow at keeping up.”

  He nods, tucking his lips in. “Right. Sure. My bad.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Well go out if you want to go out.”

  “Together. I want to go out together. There’s nothing fun about going out alone unless you’re not planning to come home until the next morning.”

  He scratches at the two-day-old scruff on his face, contemplating that offer. “You want me to go out with you?” I nod. “Where? Like to a club? Dancing? Because I don’t dance, period. There isn’t a single rhythmic bone in my body.”

  “Nah. I’m not in the mood to club dance. A bar? Maybe Lola’s? Something low-key.”

  He focuses his gaze my way. “There’s a dance floor at Lola’s…”

  I roll my eyes. “I promise not to ask you to dance, Caleb.”

  Tapping his chin, he hums, thinking. “Fine. I’ll go, but we need to be back by eleven, and there’s a max of two beers for me. I have to be up early tomorrow and don’t want to be dragging more than I already am.”

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “Wow, you really know your days of the week. Your kindergarten teacher should be proud.”

  “I’m sure she is, but for real, why the early wakeup?”

  “I have a game.”<
br />
  “But…” I pause, confused. “You know the season is over, right?”

  He slaps his hands over his cheeks, dropping his mouth open in faux shock. “Is it really? I had no idea.”

  “You’re a real smartass tonight.”

  “I’m a real smartass every night.”

  “You know, I haven’t really noticed that.”

  He coughs out a laugh. “Whoa, was that you being a smartass?”

  “Whatever.” I stand and motion for him to get moving. “Let’s get going before it gets too late.”

  “Is that a thing? Is it ever too late for the bar?”

  “Are you serious?” He nods. “You don’t go out much, do you?”

  “Not really.”

  I give my head a small shake and exhale audibly. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “I’m surprised is all.”

  “And why is that? Because I’m a baseball player?”

  “Welllll…honestly? Yeah, that’s exactly why.”

  He holds his hand to his chest, his mouth dropping open. “Are you…are you stereotyping me, Zoe? Do you think I catch a few balls and then head out to drink and chase girls in my free time?”

  “I mean, is that not what you do?”

  “I thought we talked about this. I wasn’t that guy in high school, and that is one trait that carried over into college. Delia’s only the second girl I’ve dated in the entire four years I’ve been here.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “Like dated dated?”

  He tilts his head to the side. “Is there another kind?”

  “Well, I mean…you know…like, ‘dated’?”

  Caleb stands to his full height, towering at least five inches above me—and I’m not short by any means. I tilt my head back to meet his eyes as he studies me, a devilish smirk on his face.

  “I’m going to assume the air quotes are an indication that you don’t mean dated. You mean slept with. You asking about my sex life, Zoe? That where we’re going?”

  “I suppose you could say that,” I say, standing my ground and stepping into him, into his warmth.

  We’re nearly touching, and there’s no denying the electricity passing between us in this moment.

  His grin grows and he leans down, his lips hovering only inches away from my ear. “I know my way around a woman’s body, Zoe.” My knees shake, ready to give out at any second with the way his voice lowers. “That’s not something you need to be worried about.”

  I want to push him away and draw him closer with every word that leaves his lips…those stupid, full, kissable lips.

  His eyes bore into me once more, heat blazing inside them with an unspoken promise, and just like before, I’m squeezing my thighs tight together, trying not to let his words affect me.

  He brushes past me, his hard muscles sliding against my body, sending tingles to the tips of my toes.

  I’m standing there alone, nearly panting over two measly little sentences like a weak, lust-driven moron.

  Fucking Caleb.

  “Two light beers, please.”

  The bartender nods and scurries off to grab the drinks.

  I brace my elbows on the bar top and glance out into the sea of bodies. Even for a Friday night, Lola’s is extra packed. The makeshift dance floor is full of grinding bodies, every table at capacity.

  I find Caleb sitting alone at a table off to the side of the bar, shoulders slumped inward as he sits there scanning the room, eyes steady and sure.

  He put on a pair of jeans that cling to his legs just right and a navy blue jersey-style shirt. The first button is undone, giving the sexiest glimpse of the base of his throat. His stubble is now shaven down to a five o’clock shadow, and damn does that look suit him.

  The ever-present baseball cap is sitting atop his head, this time facing the right way. I want to march over to him and spin it around. There’s no reason eyes like his should be hidden in shadow.

  There are a couple girls crowding the table, wanting his attention. He’s not paying them any as his gaze meanders over my way, stopping only a moment to connect with my own.

  I can see his lips pull up on one side then he’s moving on, canvassing the room once again.

  “You come here often?”

  “You actually think that line will work?” I don’t even bother to look at the random guy who just used the worst pickup line in the history of pickup lines.

  “A guy’s gotta try.”

  I huff out a laugh. “And that’s the best you can come up with?”

  I glance his way. The first thing I notice is the lack of a baseball cap, and I hate myself for even thinking about that right now because the guy standing in front of me is actually cute. His dark hair is disheveled in an artful way, grin plastered across his tan face, perfect white teeth shining out at me. He screams frat boy.

  I don’t do frat boys.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi.”

  “So, really, do you come here often? I haven’t seen you before.”

  “Does that mean you come here often?”

  He has the gall to look sheepish, like I don’t know he’s a shark in the water. “Sure, you could say that.”

  “Right.” I turn my attention back to the bartender, brushing the guy off.

  He doesn’t take the hint.

  “What’s your name?”

  I tsk. “That isn’t information I hand out to just anyone.”

  “Oh, darlin’, I’m not just anyone.”

  I throw my head back in laughter. “You have to stop with the cheesy lines. They’re not getting you anywhere right now.”

  He stands a little straighter, his grin transforming into something more genuine. It instantly makes him more attractive.

  Sticking his hand out, he says, “Hi, I’m Tony. Care to join me for a drink?”

  My eyes bounce between his hand and his face. When he’s not acting like he’s on the prowl, he seems like a decent guy, so I clasp his hand in mine. “Hi, Tony. Name’s Zoe.”

  “Zoe—beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

  I shake my head at him, trying to fight off a grin.

  He runs a hand through his already messy hair, his embarrassment sincere. “Shit, I did it again, huh? I’m sorry. I’m horrible at this.”

  “First time?”

  “Kind of. I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m trying to dive back into the dating game. This shit is hard, man, hence me resorting to the worst pickup lines imaginable.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not so bad when you’re not trying so hard.”

  “Not so bad, huh.” He shakes his head, his smile broadening. “I’m such an ass because there’s another line right there on the tip of my tongue and I want to say it, but I can’t bring myself to do so.”

  I laugh. “Probably for the best.”

  “I’m sorry I came off as a dick. That’s not who I am.”

  “That’s exactly what a dick would say.”

  His eyes spark with interest. “You’re a tough cookie to crack, say just what’s on your mind. I like it.”

  “I like it too.” I throw him a wink.

  “Did you get lost in Narnia or something? What in the hell is taking so long?”

  Caleb’s warmth slams into me, that now familiar scent of his wrapping around me like a blanket. His heavy hand lands on the bar just behind me, so close that I can feel his arm resting against my back. The heat seeps through my shirt, and I can already feel the beads of sweat starting to form along the back of my neck.

  “It’s busy,” I tell him, spinning on my stool to face him.

  “Busy my ass. You were grabbing two beers. It doesn’t take that long to pop a couple tops off.”

  I reach up and poke at his drawn-together brows. “You’re so grumpy tonight. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

  “Sitting in a room full of strangers and watching them try to score with one another is not fu
n. It’s sad.”

  There’s a choked cough from behind me and I realize I forgot all about my new friend Tony—who happens to be doing just what Caleb described.

  “Right.” I change positions on my stool until I’m facing the bar, the boys on either side of me. Caleb’s free hand makes its way to my lower back, the other still attached to the bar, encasing me. “Tony, this is Caleb. Caleb, Tony. Be nice.”

  “I’m always nice.” He pushes himself off the bar and extends his hand Tony’s way. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Tony catches my eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here with someone.”

  “Oh, I’m not. We’re not together.”

  “Yes we are,” Caleb interjects.

  “What? No we aren’t,” I tell him.

  “Yes we are.”

  “Are you insane? We are not together.”

  Just then the bartender slides my two beers across the counter. “Want me to start a tab, sweetheart?”

  “No, but thank you.” I hand over enough to cover the drinks and a tip. “You’re buying the next round,” I tell Caleb.

  I turn back to Tony, who’s staring at me with big eyes. I raise a brow at him in question.

  “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. I’m, uh, I’m going to go meet up with my friends. It was great meeting you, Zoe. I’m sorry to have interrupted your date.”

  “Date? No. That is not what this is!” But he’s already retreating.

  I feel the rumbling of his chest before I hear his laughter, and I nearly growl in frustration.

  “You just cockblocked me!”

  “I did no such thing, Zoe.”

  “Caleb Mills, you cockblocked me so hard I may as well be wearing a sign on my forehead that says, ‘Hey, we’re together! Stay away!’ Even though we most certainly are not together. Therefore, you should not be cockblocking me. Dick.”

  He laughs again and takes the seat Tony was just occupying. I miss the feel of his hand on my lower back the moment his fingers drift away from my skin.

  “Were you really considering going home with that dude?”

  “If you hadn’t cockblocked me, I would have.” He gives me a look of disbelief. “What? I would have gone home with him. He’s my type, so why not?”