Text Me Baby One More Time

by Teagan Hunter

  “Bucky?”

  “Don’t.”

  He exhales heavily. “You talked to Delia.”

  The ice in my voice must be a dead giveaway for him, and I think what hurts the most is that he was expecting this, that his mind automatically goes to that.

  “Is that why you’ve been so cagey this week? Why you were weird when we ran into them at the restaurant? Why you won’t take me near your parents?”

  He takes a moment to answer, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to think up a lie.

  “Yes,” he finally says. “That’s why.”

  “How did I not know?”

  “No one does, really. It was kept quiet because of my baseball career.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s embarrassing as fuck, Denny. I made one of the biggest goddamn mistakes of my life in a moment of simple jealousy and I can’t take it back.”

  I spin to face him. “How could you do that to her?”

  “I was stupid.”

  “Beyond stupid, Shep. That’s a massive invasion of privacy.”

  “I know that.”

  “It’s disgusting and crude and so harsh it hurts to look at you right now.”

  He winces like I’ve just punched him in the gut, and maybe I have with my words. He deserves every hit.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve lost nearly everything because of it.”

  “It doesn’t. It would make me feel a whole lot better to know you aren’t the slug everyone has claimed you were over the years.” I shake my head in disgust. “I thought you were better than that, Shep.”

  “I thought I was too.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “I told you—I was jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  He scrubs a hand over his face, and then does it again.

  “Fuck!” he yells, and it echoes around us angrily. “Them, okay? I was so green over what they obviously had because it could have been us.”

  His hands slide through his hair, destroying the perfectly tousled look he had going on, just leaving it messy.

  “That could have been you and me.” He drops his head. “But I screwed that up, and Delia just sat there reminding me of all the girls I used to get you out of my head. The guilt crept in. Everything felt wrong and gross and I was just so fucking angry at her. I just sent it to a few guys on the team. We did that kind of shit all the time, passed photos around. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. She wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “I wish I could be mad at you and your jackass friends for passing nudes around, but that would be hypocritical. I’ve done that myself. Usually, though, it’s unsolicited dick pics from guys I don’t know. You knew Delia. You knew her, and you still did that to her. That’s wrong on so many levels, Shep.”

  “I know, but—”

  I hold up my hand to stop him. “Furthermore, you cannot keep blaming your bad behavior on me and us and whatever we had. You fucked up. You did that, not anyone else.”

  His shoulders sag in defeat.

  He’s wrong, and he knows he’s wrong, but that doesn’t change anything, doesn’t change what he did.

  “I can forgive you for making a stupid shitty mistake, for being a complete tool for a moment in your life. We all make mistakes and I’d hate for all of mine to be held against me forever, but Delia’s my friend, Shep, and you hurt her. Do you know how scared that makes me about wanting to take a chance on a future with you? What if I piss you off? What if something else makes you jealous? Will it be my picture you’re sending out to people?”

  “No!” he shouts. “No. I’d never do that to you.” His teeth gnash together, jaw so coiled I can see the muscles jumping. He knows I’ve made a valid point. “That’s not who I am…not who I want to be.”

  I can see the ways Shep’s changed over the years. In college, he walked around like he was big man on campus, and he was in many ways. Now, though, he’s humbler. He’s settled into his fame…into himself. He’s passionate about the charities he works with. He’s not trying to be the cool guy anymore. He’s just Shep.

  Those parts of him I adore.

  But the parts that don’t own up to his mistakes? The Shep who continually blames everyone else for his actions? That’s the same eighteen-year-old boy who shut me out because he was too afraid to admit he loved me because of someone else’s failures.

  Those parts of him I hate.

  “Then prove it, because I want to believe you, Shep. I want to believe you so badly my bones ache with the desire to give in to you, to tell you it’s all okay and sweep it under the rug—but I can’t. This is about so much more than Delia. It’s about what happened five years ago. It’s about what happened last month.”

  “Denny…” He takes a step toward me and I retreat from his advances.

  “No. Until you stop blaming everyone and everything else for your mistakes, I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” I wave a finger between us. “I can’t do us anymore. It doesn’t feel healthy or right. It feels toxic and wrong. It feels like unfinished business, and I want to be so much more than that.”

  He shakes his head, not wanting to hear what I’m telling him. “You are more than that—so much more.”

  “Tell that to all the people you’ve hurt and taken shots at because of your unresolved feelings for me.”

  We stand there in silence, letting the reality of what just unfolded hang between us.

  I can’t build a future with Shep when he’s still hanging onto the past. We said clean slate, and none of this feels like a clean slate. It feels like we’re just covering up old wounds.

  “What can I do to change your mind?”

  “Right now, I don’t know. I need some time.”

  “Are we breaking up?”

  “Yes. No. I really don’t know, Shep. I wasn’t aware we’d labeled this in the first place.”

  “Don’t act like we had to. You know we didn’t.”

  “Fine, but right now, I need space, okay? I need to think.”

  “Okay, okay. Fine, I get it.” He holds his hands up in defeat. “But Den?”

  “Yeah?”

  Shep crosses the gazebo, and this time I don’t run from him. His hands cup my face, and I worry he’s going to kiss me—worry because I’m certain even now, I’d still kiss him back.

  He’s not a bad guy. I know that. He’s made mistakes—too many to count—but deep down in his heart, I know he’s not bad.

  I read somewhere one time that good people sometimes do bad things, but that doesn’t make them bad people.

  That’s so fitting for Shep, but it doesn’t make me any less mad at him.

  His fingers swipe over my cheeks and his hazel eyes bore into me. “For what it’s worth, this was never unfinished business. It can’t be, because I never stopped loving you.”

  He doesn’t try to kiss me.

  He just walks away.

  And I’m left standing there feeling relieved, angry, and so goddamn confused.

  THIRTY-TWO

  SHEPARD

  “I TOLD you she should have heard it from you.”

  I sigh into the phone. “I know, AJ. I fucking know, okay? But I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. It just felt…gross.”

  “That’s because it was a gross thing to do. I didn’t talk to you for months after that stunt, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “She’s not entirely wrong, though,” he says. “You do make excuses for your actions.”

  “What the hell is this? Shit on Shep week?”

  “No. This is Shep needs to get his shit together before he loses the love of his life week.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?” I growl at him.

  “Yes—and, again, thank you for paying for it, you fucker.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But,” he says, continuing like I never spoke, “I couldn’t leave my best man h
anging. I had to check in on ya. You were kind of a wreck when we left.”

  “You mean when Denver tore my heart out and then your wife slapped me?”

  “You have to admit, that slap was pretty badass.”

  “If it hadn’t hurt so bad, I might have even gotten a boner.”

  “Shepard…”

  I laugh dryly. “I’m kidding…kind of.”

  “Have you talked to her at all this past week?”

  “Not a word. It’s making me anxious as hell too.”

  “Have you reached out to her?”

  “Too fucking chickenshit,” I admit. “She’s scary when she’s mad.”

  “She’s mad for a good reason.”

  “I know. You keep reminding me. Makes me wish I had ignored your call.”

  “For the tenth time this week? You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, AJ, it amazes me sometimes how little you know me.”

  I can’t see him, but I’m certain he’s flipping me off right now.

  “Look, man, you just need to buck up and talk to her. You’re not that guy anymore.”

  “I told her that. She didn’t buy it.”

  “Then show her.”

  “How in the hell am I supposed to do that? Take out a fucking billboard that says how much I love her?”

  “If that’s what it takes, do it.”

  “Babe! I’m back from my massage! Let’s have sex!” Allie shouts in the background.

  “Shit, man. I gotta go. Fix shit with Denver and don’t tell Allie I called you. She’ll say I’m betraying her again.” He pauses. “Wait, no, go ahead and tell her—the makeup sex was amazing last time. Bye.”

  He ends the call.

  I groan and toss my phone onto the counter, apparently a little too hard because the fucker bounces right off and smacks onto the tile floor of my kitchen. I cringe, because I just know my screen has cracked.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter, covering my face with my hands. “This day blows!”

  Steve lets out a bark, and I’m going to pretend that’s his way of backing me up on this.

  If I had just told Denny about what happened, maybe this wouldn’t have—oh, who the hell am I kidding? She still would have been pissed, and rightfully so.

  She’s right, though, and so is AJ: I do hold on to the past. I use it to my advantage. It took Denny standing there pointing out all my fucked-up flaws to make me realize that.

  She was wrong about one thing though.

  I have changed.

  Now I just have to find a way to prove it to her.

  MY PALMS ARE SWEATY, knees weak, arms are heavy—but I most definitely do not have my mom’s spaghetti vomit on my sweater, especially considering she’s still pretty fucking pissed at me.

  I rub my hands down my jeans for the millionth time. My nerves are absolutely shot right now, and I can’t bring myself to do anything other than stand around like a moron.

  The door in front of me swings open.

  “How long are you going to stand out here? You’re starting to creep out my neighbors. Janet called to tell me there’s a ‘strapping young man looking ready to faint’ on my front porch. Since I’m not about to perform CPR on your ass and I’m too goddamn stubborn to call 911, why don’t you just come in already?”

  Zach stands before me, brows furrowed and jaw set with anger.

  This is going to be fun.

  He steps aside, waving me into his home for the first time in…well, way too fucking long for siblings who live in the same town half the year.

  “Thanks, man,” I say as I step over the threshold.

  “Take your shoes off.”

  He leaves me standing in the foyer feeling unwelcome and awkward as hell.

  See? It’s already fun.

  As I’m toeing off my shoes, an all-white pygmy goat wearing Ryan Gosling Hey Girl jammies and a diaper comes running up to me, butting his head against my shin in a way that almost hurts.

  “Knock it off, you little shit.”

  “He’s a really good judge of character.”

  I glance up to see Delia making her way down the hall. She has a small smile playing on her lips, but I know it’s not for me.

  My right cheek begins to tingle when I see her, and I know that’s just the permanent reminder of the slap she gave me when Caleb dragged me to her apartment to “apologize”. We both knew back then it wasn’t much of an apology, but she let it slide anyway. I don’t get how she let me off so easily because I deserved so much worse, and she deserved so much better than that half-assed apology I gave her.

  Why am I just now realizing this?

  “Yeah,” I say. “I can see that.”

  “Leave him be, Marshy.” She bends down and scoops up the goat then drops him off in a bed set up beside the stairs. “You can follow me.”

  I trail behind her as she leads us into the kitchen, where Zach is moving around the space like it’s his domain.

  “We’re having personal pizzas for dinner. Hope you brought your own.”

  “Zachary!” Delia chides.

  “Sorry, not sorry,” my brother mumbles, pulling open the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water.

  He hands one to Delia and pops open the other for himself, not offering me anything.

  Yep. Fun, fun, fun.

  “I’m guessing you’re here because Denver found out about you fucking over my girl.” Zach takes a swig of his water then pushes out one of those obnoxious exaggerated aahs. “Here to kiss some ass and show her you’re not a total tool?”

  I slide into a chair at their granite-topped island, take my cap off my head, and then scrub a hand through my hair.

  “At first, yeah, I was only coming here for her, but then I saw Delia in the hallway and my cheek started tingling like it always does when she’s around.”

  “Slapped ya that good, huh?”

  “You did,” I tell her. “And it reminded me of that shitty apology I gave you back then and how I never truly gave you a real one, the kind you deserved. If I were coming here for Denver, it would be the exact same thing again. So, no, I’m not here for her—or for me, for that matter. I’m here for you, Delia.”

  “For me, huh?”

  I nod. “Yep. So, take a seat or keep standing or whatever it is you need to do, because I’m about to deliver the speech of a lifetime.”

  She and Zach exchange a look. He shrugs. “This is on you two. I’m going to keep making pizzas. I’m famished.”

  “You literally just ate an hour ago.”

  “You calling me fat, D?”

  “Never.” The grin she gives him says otherwise.

  Delia makes her way around the island and takes the seat next to me. “You have my full attention, Shep.”

  She stares at me intently. I can’t help but squirm around in my chair under her scrutiny.

  “Well, fuck. Now I’m nervous.”

  She laughs. “Don’t be. I promise not to slap you again…I think.”

  Zach coughs out a laugh but continues to act like he’s invisible, working on flattening out the dough.

  “Thanks. Super reassuring.” I clear my throat. “So, I guess I never really explained to you why I did what I did.”

  “You said it was because I was pestering you about Zoe.”

  “Yes and no. Honestly, it was annoying as shit. I mean, it was college, Delia—that’s what happens in college.” I shrug. “People hook up and it doesn’t work and that’s that. I shouldn’t have been grilled about it at Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I was upset for my friend, but you’re right. I mean, she did it to guys too, so there was no reason for me to jump on you about it. I’m—”

  “Don’t you dare,” I interrupt.

  “I’m with him,” Zach throws our way.

  Delia pretends to zip her lips closed and throw away the key.

  “Anyway, yes, I was annoyed with you for putting all my business out there in front of my family, but it wasn’t just that. I was jealous.�
��

  “Of what? My super sweet Ryan Gosling pajamas?”

  “Totally.” I laugh. “No, of you and Zach.”

  My brother pauses when I mention his name and I can feel his eyes on me, but just as quickly as he stopped, he’s back to flitting around the kitchen.

  “Why were you jealous of us?”

  “You reminded me of what I could have had with Denver.”

  “How did that come about anyway?” Zach interjects.

  “Eavesdrop much?” Delia teases.

  “What? A guy can’t have questions about a secret relationship his brother had in high school?”

  “So nosy.” She tsks.

  “AJ wanted to propose to Allie in senior year and I thought it was a really stupid idea, so I reached out to Denver to ask her to help me convince our friends they were idiots and way too young to get married. One thing led to another and…yeah. We became friends, and then we became something more than that.”

  “Via texting?”

  “Yep.” I nod. “Which is another reason you two reminded me so much of us. You had what I was supposed to have: an unconventional beginning with a happily ever after. You pestering me about Zoe and all the other mistakes I’ve made over the years and my jealousy all rolled around in my head until I sent the photo.”

  “Why’d you take it to begin with?”

  I wince. “Because I was a pig. I literally have no reason other than you were hot and I wanted it, so I took it. It was free porn.”

  “That’s…thank you? I don’t really know what to say to that.”

  “That ‘free porn’ really ended up costing you a lot, huh?” Zach grabs a container of cheese, plucking out a handful of fresh mozzarella and plopping it down onto another slab of dough. “Was it worth it?”

  “Not even kind of. No offense, Delia.”

  “Trust me”—she holds her hand up—“none taken.”

  We fall into a silence, the only sounds in the kitchen coming from the giant knife Zach’s now moving through the onions he’s slicing.

  Delia pushes her chair back and starts to stand. “Well, this has all been very inter—”

  “I’m not done,” I interrupt, and she falls back into the chair.

  “You’re not talking.”