Text Me Baby One More Time

by Teagan Hunter

  I smile at my best friend, the girl I’ve known since I was eight, my heart bursting with joy for her. She deserves this.

  Allie followed AJ across the country so he could play baseball and attend college with his best friend.

  Me? Well, I followed Allie.

  Or at least that’s the story we went with.

  “Even though you woke me up ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off, I’ll forgive you.” I wink. “I’m so happy for you, Allie.” I’ll be alone forever. “Your dreams are coming true.”

  “They are. They really, really are. Now all we have to do is find you a man you don’t kick out of your bed in the morning!”

  “Just let me set her up with one of my teammates!”

  “Tell AJ I do not want to date one of his softball teammates. It’s softball, for grown-ass men.”

  Unfortunately for Allie’s fiancé, his baseball skills didn’t lead him to the shining career Shep has ahead of him, so now he plays softball with a bunch of old grumpy men. It’s kind of hilarious.

  “You could go on one date just to please him, you know. He’s one of your oldest friends.”

  “Yes, and you both know me well enough to know I don’t date jocks.”

  “That’s not entirely true, Denny.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Watch it. Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean I won’t hang up on you for bringing him up. Besides, we’re not exactly on a private phone call right now.”

  “Oh, please, like AJ would care.”

  “Allie…” I warn her.

  “Fine, fine,” she concedes. “I’ll let it go…for now.” She pushes her curly blonde locks to the side. “Want to grab lunch today?”

  “Can’t.” I sigh. “I have a huge project due tomorrow so I’m not taking a lunch break today. Maybe Thursday? I wanna see that rock in person!”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Hey, you’re done dating! You’re all mine now,” AJ says, now sounding closer than he did before.

  Allie screams with delight and the phone shakes and goes black, yet all sounds are still coming through.

  “Oh my gosh, AJ! Stop it!”

  He growls and says something I can’t quite make out.

  There’s moaning.

  Then there’s a gagging noise. That one is coming from me.

  I quickly press the red button to end the call, shaking my head at my best friend.

  Allie and AJ are finally getting married.

  And that means…

  Oh, shit.

  The sound of the doorbell chiming echoes off the walls, stopping all bad and horrible thoughts I was about to have about me being Allie’s maid of honor and who AJ’s best man will probably be.

  I groan as I’m forced to pull myself from my cozy bed.

  I can’t tell if my displeasure is because I have to leave the warmth of my moose-printed quilt way before I wanted to, or if it’s due to the thoughts trying to barrel through my mind.

  Probably a little of both.

  “What is with people being early this morning? First Allie, now Monty. Guess we’re going to continue that torment from yesterday, huh, universe?”

  I snatch my robe off the handle of my closet door and wrap it around myself just as the doorbell goes off again.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, Monty!”

  I shake my head at my twin sister. Of course she’s early. It’s Monty, the proverbial good girl. She’ll never not be early.

  For twins, we couldn’t be more opposite, and I don’t just mean in our looks.

  Where Monty has long, beautiful red locks, I have choppy dark hair. She’d give Casper a run for his money in paleness, and I have a natural olive tone.

  Monty is the epitome of a goody two-shoes. She doesn’t cuss, she’s never late, and she always follows the rules.

  I’m…well, let’s just say I’m a whole hell of a lot more free-spirited than she is. I only have one life, and I’m not living it by anyone else’s rules.

  I still wonder if the hospital switched one of us at birth, but despite all our differences, we’re extremely close. When she moved out a few months ago to live with her super sexy boyfriend—who also happens to have a kiddo—we vowed to still have breakfast together at least twice a week.

  Today is Wednesday, which means pancakes and peanut butter, and she’s also here to give me a ride to work because my car is still at Smart Shoppe.

  I hurry down the hall and through the living room, twisting the lock before padding back toward the kitchen without even glancing at my chronically punctual sister.

  “You’re early,” I say as she pushes open the door. “No talkie. Need coffee. It’s already been an eventful morning and I need caffeine.”

  “Expecting someone at this hour?”

  I stop dead in my tracks, a shiver running up my spine at the deep voice.

  What in the…

  I whirl around, pulling my robe tighter against my body, trying to hide the fact that I’m wearing skimpy pajamas and no bra.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Shep? And how do you know where I live?”

  “It’s weird—your morning security isn’t nearly as worried about your safety as Captain America was. All it took was a grin and he let me right through the gate.”

  “How’d you know which door was mine?”

  “That one was a little harder to figure out. I had a general idea because of last night, though I wasn’t quite sure about the number.” He points to my door. “The big D hanging on the door kind of gave it away.”

  I grumble at the décor.

  That giant D was Monty’s idea.

  Dammit, Monty.

  “Good morning, Denver.”

  “Go to hell, Shep.”

  “I’ll take that as you’re happy to see me.”

  “Is that what that means to you?” I snort as I continue my quest for caffeine. Shep pushes the front door closed and follows me. “Your dates must be an interesting bunch if you find that welcoming.”

  “You’re so cheery in the mornings. I forgot that about you.”

  I move around the kitchen, pulling the canister of coffee from the cabinet and dumping a few scoops into the basket. I don’t mess around with those one-cup machines. Those are for sissies who quit at one cup.

  Ha. One-cup coffee. Like that’s a thing or something.

  “What are you doing here, Shep?” I ask once I set the machine to begin brewing.

  “I assume you’ve already spoken to Allie.”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  I raise a brow. “And I called that shit. I told you they’d last forever.”

  He grins, and in the bright morning light filtering through the windows, he looks nice…normal.

  Not the asshole heartbreaker I know he really is.

  I pluck a mug from the cabinet above the coffee machine and pour a healthy dose of joe in it before padding over to the fridge to grab my favorite vanilla caramel creamer. I dispense just enough to make my coffee a shade lighter, cap it, and return it to its spot.

  “Just cream, no sugar.”

  I hate that he still remembers my coffee order, and I hate that he knows it despite never even being with me while ordering coffee.

  Attentive bastard.

  I rest my back against the counter and face him.

  Shep’s eyes fall to my hands, which are currently curled around the mug I’m holding. He squints, studying them. I think nothing of it until his full lips drop open and his hazel eyes find mine.

  His brows slam together, but not in anger.

  It’s confusion that fill his expression.

  Curious, I glance down.

  Oh god.

  My heart rate soars when I realize what cup I’ve grabbed from the cabinet: my alumni mug, the only one I have from my college days…the one that boasts we have the best baseball team around…the one with 23 on it to highlight our most valuable player in the college’s history.

  Shep�
�s number.

  I don’t own a single sweatshirt or pair of sweatpants from my time spent at college, but the moment I saw this mug in the campus shop, I knew I had to have it.

  Even though I hated his guts, it called to me.

  So, I bought it, and I use it every single day.

  I just wish today I’d have paid a little more attention to my routine.

  “It was a gift,” I lie. “I couldn’t very well turn down a gift.”

  “Right,” Shep mutters, his eyes back on the mug, mind whirling.

  I lift the mug and he follows my movements, swallowing thickly the moment my lips graze the rim like it’s his skin they’re touching.

  His stare doesn’t leave the mug, not even as I lower it.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, Shep.”

  Finally, he snaps his attention back to my face.

  “I said right, Denny.”

  He clears his throat and glances around my apartment. It’s small but cozy and perfectly me.

  I know the moment he spots my collection of comic-book-based movies because he grins and shakes his head.

  When he’s done surveying the small space, he turns back to me, still smiling.

  How in the hell can he be so smiley this early in the morning?

  “So, Allie and AJ.”

  “Yep, Allie and AJ,” I repeat.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I sigh, because I know exactly what this means. It means all those thoughts I was trying to avoid earlier.

  “It means we’re probably going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year or so, helping them plan and attending to our best man and maid of honor duties…unfortunately.”

  His grin grows. “Try again.”

  “Try what again?”

  “That timeline.”

  “What about it? Most couples are engaged for about a year. They need the time to prepare, to make book venues, to…”

  The words die on my lips.

  That’s most couples, but not Allie and AJ.

  They’re not most couples. They’ve been waiting for this for years now.

  “Please tell me Allie isn’t going to spring some crazy, impossible date on me.”

  “Fine. Allie most definitely is not going to spring some crazy, impossible date on you.”

  “That is not reassuring, Shepard.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “You told me to say it.”

  “I will toss this very hot coffee right in your face. Don’t push me.”

  “You’d never hurt this handsome face of mine.”

  I lift a brow.

  “Fine, maybe you would,” he mutters. “Anyway, they’re wanting an October wedding—their promise ring exchange anniversary, to be exact.”

  “October? But it’s already September. That’s…”

  “Next month,” he confirms.

  “How do you already know all this?” I question.

  “AJ has had this planned for months, Den. I knew it was happening.”

  “You couldn’t have warned me about this last night?”

  “And ruin the surprise? The romance in it?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

  I cock my head and meet him with curious eyes. “You believe in romance now?”

  His jaw tightens for only a moment, but I see it before he pastes on a fake smile and says, “Me? Romance? Never. I told you, I’ll never settle down.”

  It feels like a lifetime ago when Shep told me differently, and the elation I felt when he said so runs through my veins—only to be replaced by the ice put there by his betrayal.

  My favorite mug nearly slips through my fingers as my brain strolls down memory lane.

  I tighten my grip as it begins to slip and give myself a shake, pulling my mind back to reality.

  I jolt away when I realize Shep’s standing right next to me. I’m even more surprised to see he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Oh, sure, help yourself.”

  “I will, since you’re a terrible host and all.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t practice my manners on my uninvited guest. My bad.”

  “Damn right it is.” He winks over the rim of the cup before taking a sip and resting his back against the counter, standing way too close to me for comfort.

  Heat is radiating off him, and it feels so good licking at my skin. If I were brave, I’d step closer until I was pressed against him, until I could feel his skin on mine.

  But I’m not brave, and I’m not stupid enough to let myself get sucked into Shep’s web again.

  Instead, being the smart girl I am, I set my mug on the counter and move away, distracting myself with getting the mix prepared for the pancakes I’m about to devour with Monty.

  “Are you still going to be around in October?” I ask him, setting the skillet on the stove. “Or are you going to leave the duties of maid of honor and best man to me then try to take the credit?”

  “I’ll be around.”

  I sneak a peek at him, finding him staring down into his coffee mug with creased brows. How he drinks his coffee black is beyond me, though I did read an article once that said psychopaths drink black coffee…so I guess it makes sense.

  “But that’s…”

  “The rest of the season. I’m aware of when the baseball season runs, Den.”

  “Are you in that much trouble?”

  “Yes and no. I’m a valuable player and they know it, so it’s more a matter of me getting my poster-boy image back on track. They want me to do a few charity gigs, personal interviews, and the like so I can get back in everyone’s good graces.”

  My ears perk up at personal interviews.

  My editor would kill to score an interview with Shep. He’s notorious for avoiding them, which is odd because the guy loves the spotlight otherwise.

  There’s a promotion open at work and I know if I could get Shep to sit down for something and allow me to publish it, I would be first in line for the position. It’s something I’ve been working toward, a salary I could really use, and a foot into so many doors for my future.

  “Interviews?” I ask casually, crossing in front of him to reach into the cabinet on the other side of his head.

  I stare at the shelf, waiting for his response.

  When he doesn’t give one, I glance around the open cabinet door.

  His arms are crossed and he’s looking at me in amusement.

  “What?”

  “Oh no, don’t you what me with all that false innocence in your voice. You want something.”

  I shove my head back into the safety of the cabinet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I pull down the pancake mix and chocolate chips I plan to add, but I don’t move—not until Shep pushes on the door and closes it with a soft thud.

  “You want an interview.”

  “I…” I lick my lips and brush a stray hair out of my face.

  Oh god, my hair. I didn’t think to check it before I opened the door because I was expecting my sister, not my ex.

  I must look like a hot mess right now.

  Fantastic.

  I move around the kitchen, grabbing a mixing bowl, whisk, and the half gallon of milk from the fridge. I measure out the ingredients, dump way too many chocolate chips in, and whip it all together.

  “Denny?” my unwanted guest pushes after several minutes of me ignoring him.

  Damn. I thought for sure he’d leave if I waited long enough.

  I drop the whisk and face him, squaring my shoulders and pulling my big girl panties up.

  “Yes, Shep, I want an interview. There’s a promotion coming up at work, and scoring an interview with the famous Shepard Clark would put me at the top of the list for it.” I take a deep breath. “So, yes, I want an interview.”

  He takes another drink of his coffee, eyes never leaving mine as he studies me. He knows how hard it was for me to say that out loud to him, to say I…need him.

  Unable to endure his
stare for another moment, I turn away, pouring batter into the skillet and focusing on making breakfast.

  “Okay.”

  “W-What?” I sputter.

  He shrugs. “Okay. I’ll do an interview.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you want?”

  He lets out a hearty laugh, one that sounds almost a little…maniacal.

  “What makes you think I want something?”

  “Because I know you.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “As you so kindly pointed out last night, a lot can change in six years.”

  “Sure, but this isn’t one of those things.”

  Another sip of coffee. Another smirk.

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  He finishes off the hot liquid in his hand, rinses his cup, and sets it in the sink before turning back to me.

  “I have conditions.”

  I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, jutting my hip out against the counter, bracing myself for the long list I’m certain he’s about to regale me with. “Of course you do. Name them.”

  “I have a few charity events coming up. I need a date.”

  I stumble back at his request, stunned.

  “I’m sorry, you want me”—I press my finger against my chest for emphasis—“to be your”—finger pointed at him now—“date? Date?”

  “Yes. No hanky panky involved.” He pauses then winks at me. “Unless you want it to be involved.”

  I shiver at the idea.

  He believes it’s in disgust and laughs, but I know it’s because the idea slides inside of me and hits me right between my thighs.

  Treacherous body.

  He waves a hand. “It’s strictly for show. It’ll be a great opportunity for you to see me in other environments for the interview, too.”

  He’s not wrong.

  Damn him for not being wrong.

  “Is that it? I just have to be your date to a charity gig or two?”

  His eyes spark with a mischievous glint, and I know that’s not all he wants.

  “I need to do some damage control with my parents…and Zach. Especially with Zach.”

  I let out a dry laugh. Of course. “What did you do, Shep?”

  “Something really fucking stupid that I need to fix. I need to show them I have my life together, show them I’m better than I was in the moments I can’t take back and I’m growing up.”

  “Are you though?”