by Hadley Quinn
“You okay?” Josh asked.
We finally made eye contact. Maybe I was feeling apprehensive about what had just transpired, but I also knew the other night was still affecting me. The fact that he hadn’t bothered to contact me after our little tryst in the parking lot made me feel…cheap.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“I didn’t interrupt a lover’s quarrel, did I?” he smirked.
That hit me square in the heart. I shot him a nasty scowl before turning to leave. I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d accomplish by showing up at practice and was supremely irritated with myself. “I need to get go—”
“Wait, Jo…” He secured my wrist to hold me back. I preferred staring at the ground instead of at him. When I did look up, he seemed confused. “It just surprised me to see you. I thought maybe…” He shook his head. “And then I saw that.” He motioned to what must have represented my argument with Boxer.
“You thought maybe what?” I inquired, needing to hear him say it. If he could be the one to lead into it, maybe I’d have the guts to follow through with my reason for being there.
He sighed, but his mood visibly darkened. It was like his army of caution was being reassembled right before my eyes.
I desperately wished I could climb inside his mind, his heart—mainly because my little girl feelings needed to be assured, but also so I could get a better look at the internal makeup of this new Josh Cameron.
It felt like an unfair fight.
“Drive safe, Jolie,” he told me before walking away.
My heart sank just a little. Okay, it plummeted entirely. Mistake number one was showing up; mistake number two was expecting anything at all.
I let him walk away. He didn’t head for the batting cages again but aimed for the street and disappeared.
Drew emerged from the building, bat bag in hand and a curious smile on his face. “Hey sis, what’s up?” He glanced at our surroundings, possibly searching for Josh, but we were alone.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat with me?” I feigned a smile.
He agreed and walked with me to my car.
I never did stop at the store that day.
~9~
“Don’t get attached.”
“Just get some dick.”
“Be casual and don’t let it get to you.”
“Make him jealous.”
“Give it another shot.”
“Move on.”
I sighed as the assault of unsolicited advice came pouring from the mouths of women far more experienced than myself. Or so I assumed. The women at Anna’s hair salon sure talked a big game, but I questioned their recommendations. Two had been divorced twice, one was a lesbian, and another was a self-proclaimed slut.
My expert panel came with a compilation of issues.
“I appreciate the ideas, ladies, I really do,” I told them. “But I don’t feel like my situation is black and white.”
A few of them went into a rampage about how men are all the same and they only think with one thing, but Anna said, “I agree with Jo. There’s more to the story, and she should figure it out.”
“Hold on a sec,” I argued. “I never said I needed to figure it out. I’m only saying that all your general advice could very well backfire. It is not one-size-fits-all.”
“It can always backfire, honey,” Jamie said. She had Anna’s hair all wrapped in layers of foil while I’d stuck around after just a trim. “The question you need to ask yourself is: how much does this guy mean to me?”
A few more comments were added to the discussion before it developed into a weird political argument, and that’s when I chose to cut out. I told Anna to text me when she was done and wandered across the parking lot to the strip mall.
How much did Josh mean to me? Not enough to stay together after high school, apparently. And now that he’d returned north, he wasn’t even a nice person anymore. Even so, I still wanted to get to know him.
And that’s when it hit me. I was more drawn to him now than I’d ever been before. Whatever had happened over the past ten years, and however we’d both changed, I was so attracted to the guy and intrigued by who he was, it was controlling my damn life!
A thought hit me. Tapping through my phone, I searched for his name in my contacts. It was a long shot, but maybe Josh still had the same number.
When I actually found his name, I pulled up our text history, pausing with a heavy heart. It was blank. If I wasn’t holding my third cell phone since then, the last text I had ever sent him would still be there, dated over nine years ago. I’d sent my condolences about his mom after she’d battled breast cancer and asked when the funeral was.
I’d never received an answer.
And thinking back, the next day I finally said yes to Chris’s request to take me out sometime. Josh didn’t want to speak with me, and I assumed he never would, so there was no reason to hang on any longer.
He never did text me back or…ever again.
Sighing, I tentatively typed out a text.
Josh? It’s Jo. Is this still your number?
If I got some creeper, so be it. At least he wouldn’t know me, and I could block him from contacting me further. I browsed through a bedding store for twenty minutes, wondering if I should get a new comforter, when my phone alerted me.
Same number
I stopped in the middle of the aisle. What if it wasn’t him? What if it really was him? God, I felt like panicking.
Me: Security check, where’d you last see me?
There was no response for such a long time, I thought for sure it was some dickface trying to mess with me. As I walked to another store, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Anna: B done in 10 meet me at Orchid Thai
Food sounded good, but my nerves were a spastic mess. I considered turning off my phone for a bit, but as soon as I stepped into the Thai restaurant and sat to wait for Anna, it buzzed again.
Josh: Last saw you stalking young boys at a baseball practice. You were wearing a brown jacket and matching brown boots, nice ass in tight jeans, and a bratty attitude.
My irritability bubbled to the surface. Stalking young boys? Bratty? How dare he! And the fact that I’d been there to see him made me want to reach through the phone and slap his more-than-likely smug face.
I refrained from replying until after dinner. I didn’t even share the latest with Anna because I wanted to be done discussing my Josh matters with other people. It made me feel whiney and mopey, and truthfully, I felt bad painting him in a negative light.
Even if he deserved it.
I did, however, text him my address on the way home and told him I’d like to talk for a bit. I figured if he showed up, great. If he didn’t, then at least I knew I wasn’t a priority.
He didn’t even reply, so I just got ready for bed and became engrossed in a movie. The von Trapps were about to flee to Switzerland when a knock at my door scared the living hell out of me. Cautiously, I made my way to open it for whom I could only assume was Josh…
But wasn’t.
“Boxer,” I corrected myself aloud.
He stood in the hall, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and glanced down at my plaid pajama pants. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m sorry. I was visiting my grandparents today, and you live on the way so…I hope you don’t mind I stopped by. Just wanted to apologize for the other day, Jo. I’m sorry I was such a dick. I was kind of hurt, jealous. I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”
Reluctantly, I agreed and let him in. Even though I had questionable neighbors on both sides, I still left the door open while we stood facing each other just inside my apartment.
“I don’t understand,” he began. “I thought we had something started and then…and then you totally rejected me. If it was something I did or said, I’m sorry and hope you forgive me. I’m extremely sorry I called you a bitch, that was awful. But before that, whatever caused you to turn me down, just let me know what I did.”
I re
spected his humility, but he was missing the point entirely, and my annoyance was at an all-time high. “Boxer—”
“Can you not call me that?” he cut in, frustrated. “It’s just a dumb nickname.”
I didn’t really care what name he went by. “There are a thousand other girls who would love to go out with you. And frankly, I don’t like your persistence. It reminds me of Chris, and I’m not okay with that.”
His face clouded. “Don’t compare me to that asshole. I’m not him.”
“I didn’t say you were. But you’re doing things that are triggering some feelings in me, and they aren’t good ones. I don’t want to be pressured. The answer is no, and I don’t have to justify that answer in the first place. I only did because you’re my brother’s friend, and I’m a polite person. Or, at least, used to be. But I’m done explaining this to you.”
“Jolie, if you just give me a fucking chance. I promise I will treat you right. What happened since the day at Timeout? You were interested and then you weren’t.”
He was correct, in a way. I’d considered the possibility but then decided against it. There wasn’t any one reason, though. I’d just mulled it over and changed my mind.
Maybe common sense kicked in.
“You cornered me during a busy time at work, and frankly, a crazy day altogether. And—” I cut myself off, realizing how sick to death I was of the issue. “Just go, okay? I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired and annoyed, so just leave.”
His face portrayed a mixture of anger and disbelief. I made a mental note to never be nice to a guy again if that was what I’d have to deal with.
Boxer wasn’t moving, and my patience was wearing thin. I pulled the door open further and pushed him along until he was in the hall. “And don’t you dare dump this shit on my brother,” I warned. “He needs to focus on school and baseball and doesn’t need to be burdened with stuff like this.”
“Drew does just fine in life,” he scoffed. “Maybe if you stopped treating him like a kid, you wouldn’t view the rest of us the same way. I’m hardly a kid, Jo. Maybe if you gave me a chance, you’d realize that.”
Based on his tone and the smirk on his face, he was talking about his dick. And if it hadn’t been for the snort in the hallway to divert my attention, I might have insulted said appendage.
Boxer’s head turned to the noise too, and his face darkened. I popped my head out the doorway, assuming I’d see Harlan annoyed with the noise again. Instead, I spotted Josh leaned up against the wall near the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest.
My heart did a funny backflip, and my body flushed with embarrassment.
I didn’t even hear Boxer’s departing words. He passed Josh and thundered down the stairs.
“Sure, buddy, whatever makes you feel better,” Josh muttered, and he pushed himself off the wall. Amused, he made his way to my apartment. “You just can’t keep the little boys away, can you?”
Still humiliated, I disappeared inside.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he continued, shutting the door after he followed me in. “Could hear you as I came up the stairs.”
The credits were rolling from my movie, so I shut the television off. “Well, I wouldn’t have answered the door if I knew it was him,” I retorted.
He slowly nodded. “Hmm, good to know.”
“Good to know what?” He didn’t answer, so I tossed the remote on the chair and dropped onto the couch. “Have a seat.”
He did, but eyed me carefully at the same time. “Why do I feel like this was a bad idea?”
“I dunno, why do you feel that way?” Again, he didn’t answer. Apparently, this was a pow-wow I’d called, so I was in charge of getting it started. “Look, if I was a brat to you, I’m sorry. I was at Berkeley because I knew you were there and I wanted to talk to you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I asked my brother for your number, not realizing I still had it, but he said you’d be there.”
“And why do you still have my number, Jo?”
Surprised by the question, I paused. “Well…it’s always been in my contacts, apparently, and when transferring them to new phones, it just got passed along with the rest of them.”
“You’ve never deleted my number?”
“No. Have you deleted mine?”
It was his turn to hesitate. “No.”
“But you felt it was okay to ignore my texts nine years ago? Why not just delete me, Josh?”
His forehead creased with confusion. “What texts?”
I stared at him for several counts, wondering if he was just trying to piss me off. “When I heard your mom was sick, I texted you. No response. When I heard she’d passed, I texted you. No response. I asked when and where her funeral would be, and you still didn’t respond.”
He looked more confused than ever. “I never got messages like that, Jo. I swear to God, I didn’t.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and added, “I’d double-check but this is my third phone since, and I don’t have our old texts anymore.”
“Same, but I remember. And I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He sat in silence for so long, I couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. But that particular mood cloaked him again—the one he seemed to use any time he was around me. He became distant and wary, like conversing with me was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Josh, talk to me.” The silence was killing me, but mostly, his mood was scary. “What’s going on in your life? Where have you been?” I paused to give him a chance to answer, but he didn’t. “What’s happened in the past ten years?” Still nothing. “Why have you become so guarded around me?”
He scoffed. “Everyone, not just you. Everyone.”
I let that sink in for a moment. “And why?”
Again, he took a long time to answer. I wanted to lecture that I wasn’t the enemy and was just there to help, but I didn’t think he needed that from me.
Out of impulse, I slid across the couch and took his hand. He shocked me by yanking it away, but before I could react, he shook his head and took my hand back—cautiously, like it was going to burst into flames and burn him.
Sighing, he said, “I’m not going to be some sob story, Jolie, but things didn’t work out for me at USC. My scholarship wasn’t renewed after the second year, and I didn’t even end up graduating from there.”
I had no idea.
“When you started dating Chris,” he continued, “I got into a total train wreck of a relationship…and it kind of fucked me up.”
“Josh, I only went out with Chris because you wouldn’t answer my texts. I thought…I thought you had moved on.”
He slowly shook his head. “I thought you had moved on.” His eyes went distant, staring across the room. “I guess a lot of things would have been different,” he mumbled, rubbing his face. With a sigh, he turned to me again. “I don’t want to be close to anyone. I can’t give up that much of myself again. And now, I basically just did,” he exhaled as he dropped my hand and stood.
I watched him walk across the room to stand at the window. It pained me that he felt uncomfortable opening up to me. Maybe we had a silly high school relationship and never had to deal with any real issues, but I knew how much I’d grown in the last ten years. It was possible he needed to understand that.
I spoke to his back while he stared out the window. “Chris had another woman. Believe me when I say I understand; trusting people is hard. I can’t shake the regret, you know? I keep feeling like I’ve wasted ten years of my life. It hurts. Thinking about all the things I could have had if I’d made different choices, like not gotten married so quickly or not given up college for him. And I hate that I’m so obsessed with that. It holds me back sometimes.”
He angled himself to look at me, his eyes imploring, searching, or maybe trying to digest my confession. After quietly assessing my words, he simply said, “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that.”
I nodded, accept
ing his sincerity. “I’m sorry you’ve dealt with quite a bit as well. And…I’m truly sorry about your mom. She was a sweet woman. I wish I could have been there for you.”
He didn’t respond other than to return to the couch and sit down. I felt like a bit of the wall was starting to disintegrate again. Feeling like we’d made a bit of progress, I decided to be grateful for that and move on.
“I brought home extra Thai food,” I informed him. “Wanna heat it up and watch a movie?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, casting a side-glance my way. He had that mysterious, smoldering look to him, and God, it was sexy. I knew he needed to stay on his end of the couch in order for me to keep my hands to myself, but thinking about the other night in the parking lot made my core react.
I didn’t wait for his answer and hopped up for the kitchen. If I sat there reminiscing about sexual activity with Josh Cameron, I could very well end up naked with him.
Maybe that would be a good thing…but possibly just the opposite.
~10~
I could feel him watching me as I stuck the cashew chicken in the microwave. It was after nine on a Sunday night—the only day of the week I reserved for lounging around at home or spending a couple hours out with Anna.
In a million years, I wouldn’t have guessed it would end up with Josh in my apartment.
He was browsing through my small stack of movies when I brought the food out. I apologized for not having a kitchen table or even a coffee table to eat on.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, placing a disc in the DVD player. He picked up the plate I’d set on the couch for him and sat down with it, but his eyes scanned our bland surroundings.
“About six weeks. It’s been good,” I decided with a nod. “A huge change, but good. Not what I pictured for myself at this point in my life, but I’m slowly rebuilding.”
He bobbed his head, and the TV lit up with whatever he’d placed in the DVD player. “Did everything turn out, um, fair?” he asked. “With the divorce?”
