by J. Daniels
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be thinking, feeling. I’ve read that last text from Reed more times than I can count. The conversation we had in the bathroom has been playing on loop in my head. He’s miserable. He wishes he could remember what happened between us. But he went out the next night and picked up another girl. What am I supposed to do with that?
Is he miserable? Or is his dick miserable?
I whip the potatoes vigorously. “There’s this guy,” I begin, and Riley is in front of me in seconds.
“I knew it. It’s always a guy.” She grabs a stool and sits next to the stove. “Go on,” she encourages, pushing her glasses back on her nose.
“Well, there’s technically two guys.”
“Fighting over you? I’m not hearing a problem yet.”
I turn off the burner when the potato flakes begin to boil. Laying the spoon down on the counter, I grab the nearest stool and sit down next to Riley. My shoulders roll forward as my elbows hit my legs.
“They’re not really fighting over me. I really, really like the one guy. He’s sweet and he’s funny. When we were together, it was . . . it was everything.” I look down into my lap, remembering what it was like, how easy it was with Reed. “I’ve never felt like that before with anyone, but now we’re not spending any time together. He says he’s miserable, but it’s not like he’s asking me out like the other guy, who seems really nice.”
“Are you feeling him?”
Reed’s question burns in my ears. He looked conflicted asking it. I felt sick answering him.
“Why aren’t you spending time with the first one anymore?” Riley asks. “Did you break up?”
I shake my head, keeping it turned down. “We were never really a couple.”
But we were something. Reed said we were something.
God, why didn’t I ask him what he meant by that? It’s like I turned into a speechless moron when he stepped into that bathroom.
“Ah, yeah, I’ve had relationships like that. No labels or whatever. So the other guy asked you out, but you’re still thinking about the first one. Right?”
I nod.
“If the first one is miserable, why isn’t he making a move?”
“He is, just not with me.” I look up when Riley groans. “I saw him the other night leaving my work with some other girl.”
She crosses her one leg over the other, crosses her arms over her chest, and scowls. “Oh, really? Did he see you?”
“Yes.”
“And he still left with her?”
“Yes.”
“Ass. I’m no longer team first guy.”
My stomach drops at the memory of Reed with that girl. Her hand on his chest. How he kept his eyes on me while she maneuvered him outside. I couldn’t look anywhere else. I was paralyzed, my eyes glued to Reed, my feet glued to the floor. Shaking so badly I nearly dropped the plates I was carrying.
I clear my head and focus on Riley. “They left together, then not even five minutes later I got a text from him saying nothing happened. But why? Why would he text me that? Did he feel guilty because I saw him? Would something have happened with her if I wasn’t working that night?”
“Mm.” Riley wraps some hair that’s fallen from her pony around her finger. She thinks silently for a moment. “Do you really think nothing happened?”
“He wasn’t lying. I know he wasn’t.” I pinch my legs together before my body answers that question for me. “Even if it had been a whole five minutes, Reed lasts a lot longer than that.”
Riley makes a noise between a strangled groan, and a choke. “Reed?” Her eyes widen, she leans closer. “As in Reed Tennyson?”
“Yes.” I lean back to reclaim some of my personal space. “Why?”
“That’s my brother!” she screams, jumping off her stool.
Wait, what? WHAT?
I stand so quickly the room starts to spin. My one hand flattens on the stool, my other presses against the side of my head. “I . . . are you sure?”
Her brother?
Reed is her brother?
Oh my God. I just told her he lasts longer than five minutes.
I cover my face with my hands, groaning, wishing the world would just swallow me up already.
Riley wraps her hand around my arm and shakes me. I peek at her through my fingers.
“Yes, I’m sure! Beth! You slept with Reed? You really, really like him? Oh my God!” She sucks in a loud, startled breath, releasing her hold on me. Her nostrils flare. “I can’t believe that idiot picked up another chick in front of you. I’m calling him.”
I grab her wrist as she reaches into her pocket. “No! Please don’t. Riley, don’t say anything to him about this. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
She must see my panic. God knows I hear it in my voice.
Looking down at her arm, Riley slowly pulls her hand out of her pocket, empty. She picks up her stool and carries it back over to the counter. “Okay, I won’t say anything,” she says over her shoulder. “Who’s the other guy? Maybe he’s my cousin.”
“Haha.” I slide my stool back underneath the counter. Christ, how small is this town? “His name is CJ. I don’t know his last name, but he’s a cop.”
“Ohhh.” Our eyes meet, and she smiles playfully. “I know who he is. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him with Ben Kelly and Luke Evans. The three of them together are like, almost too hot to look at.”
I think back to my lunch date with the girls. The guys in their uniforms. How I contemplated committing a felony for the first time in my life.
“Mm mmm,” I agree, letting my hair untuck behind my ear to hide my blush.
Riley leans her hip against the serving table. “So, you were hanging out with my brother, now you’re not, for whatever reason. CJ asked you out, and now Reed is miserable? Did I get it right?”
I grab the pot of mashed potatoes and carry it over to the serving table. Riley moves down to allow me some room. “Pretty much.” I look into her eyes, the same strange, pale-blue color as Reed’s.
Way to miss that gigantic clue, Beth.
“It’s not that I don’t want to go out with CJ. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t. But hearing Reed say he wishes . . . certain things, I don’t know. I just feel like we’re nothing right now, and I don’t want to be nothing with Reed. I miss talking to him. I miss hanging out with him.”
“It sounds like he misses you too.”
I give her a weak smile, letting my arms fall to my sides. “But in what way? What was I to him? He told me we were something. What? Friends? More than that?”
Riley lifts her shoulders, then grabs a few empty serving trays from the shelf below the table.
“If my brother is jealous because you’re going out with another guy, which it definitely sounds like he is, I’d say you were in the more-than-that category. But,” she pauses with a cautious look. “This is my brother we’re talking about, and he doesn’t get jealous, or miserable, or anything else over women anymore, so, I don’t know. The last woman I ever saw him feel anything for was his stupid ex, and that was nine years ago.”
“Yeah, I know. I met her.”
She drops the trays on the table and whips her head around. “You met Molly? How? Was Reed with you? Oh my God, he saw her and didn’t tell me?”
“Whoa.” I hold my hands out in front of me. “Yes, to all of those questions, I think. I’m assuming he didn’t tell you.”
She gently rolls her eyes. “Unbelievable.”
“That’s kind of how we started hanging out. I roped the two of us into attending her engagement party last weekend.” I swallow hard when she slowly looks at me. “As a couple,” I meekly add.
“As a couple?” she questions, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “Reed did the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing with you?”
I almost take offense to that, until I remember Reed telling me he hasn’t kissed anyone in nine years. I’m going to assume he hasn’t been a
boyfriend in that long either.
Jesus. That witch was his last girlfriend?
I stare into Riley’s eyes. “Yes. He did the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
She huffs, dropping her shoulders. “You think you know somebody.” Riley shakes her head as her hands curl into fists. “I want to call him so bad right now.” She holds a finger up in front of my face, halting my protest. “But I won’t. I’ll pretend I know nothing about this.”
“Thank you.”
She grabs the serving trays off the table. “I don’t know, Beth, really. Like I said, Reed doesn’t get jealous, but he also doesn’t usually pretend to be someone’s boyfriend so he can spend a night with his ex. I might be just as confused about this now as you are.”
She walks away, carrying the trays over to the baking sheet of dinner rolls.
My head feels heavier now, putting strain on the muscles in my neck. It’s not even noon and I feel like I could lie down and sleep for days. Maybe Reed isn’t jealous, or miserable.
Maybe I’ve imagined everything.
His words to me in the bathroom, his hand on my neck, his urgent breath against my skin.
“CJ asked me out.”
I’ve never hated the sound of my own voice before, until that moment.
“You want my advice?” Riley calls out, moving around the kitchen.
I lean back against the wall, nodding when she looks over at me.
She carries over two trays of rolls. “Go out with CJ. If Reed doesn’t like it, make him do something about it.”
Wendy walks through the doorway and grabs an apron off the wall. “Five minutes until the doors open. Are we ready back here?”
Riley looks at me. I take in a deep breath.
Make him do something about it.
She’s right. It’s Reed’s turn to grab my face and kiss me without giving me a choice in it. It’s his turn to reach for my hand, to touch me first. He’s miserable? He’s jealous? Let me see it. The only thing he’s shown me is how easily he can be dragged out of my work.
I reach for two aprons, tossing one to Riley. “We’re ready.”
I STARE BACK AND FORTH between the two objects tempting me. My gaze lingers on the one, my cell phone.
Don’t even think about it.
Forcing my eyes to the left, I size up the plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies I’ve just slaved over for tomorrow.
Nope. You’re wasting your time looking.
Back to the phone. I rest both elbows on the counter, leaning my chin on my fists, a heavy sigh rolling past my tongue.
I miss him. So sue me. Sending Reed a simple ‘how is your day’ text isn’t the same thing as forcing him to kiss me. Right?
It’s close.
Grunting, I flick my gaze back to the cookies.
Still warm. The perfect golden brown color, with the tiny chocolate morsels instead of the regular sized ones. I only made a dozen. I alone can eat all twelve of these bad boys, which is why I shouldn’t eat one right now. One will become seven, seven will lead to me grabbing my car keys and heading back to the store. But then, there’s the other temptation in the room. If I’m going to cave and reach for something, shouldn’t it be the cookies?
My eyes sweep the counter. I think back to the last text from Reed. The one I never responded to. Is he waiting for me to write back? Is that why he hasn’t sent me anything else?
The hardest decision I’ve faced in a long time just became incredibly simple.
One hand reaches for a cookie, the other grabs my phone. I round the counter and head for the couch, taking a bite of the cookie and unlocking the screen.
Technically, I’m not sending him a regular text. I’m sending him a reply to a text. That is completely different than putting myself out there with an unprovoked message. I’m reacting. Nothing more.
Me: Ok.
There. A simple response. The whatever is in his court now. Ball, or something.
I set the phone down in my lap and take another bite. The chocolate melts against the heat of my mouth, coating my tongue. I lick a tiny bit off my thumb as my phone beeps.
Reed: What’s ok?
What’s ok? Did he not . . .
I scroll back to his last message. Yup. That was definitely the last thing he sent me.
Me: You said nothing happened. I’m saying ok.
Reed: What the hell, Beth? I sent that 6 days ago. You couldn’t text me back sooner?
I read his message twice.
Couldn’t text him back sooner?
Really? He’s mad about this? Maybe I took 6 days because I was still in shock from what I saw. Maybe I didn’t have anything to respond to. It’s not like he asked me a question. I don’t remember reading ‘Did you see that just now?’ or ‘Any chance you missed that chick dragging me outside?’
I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth, typing my response. His text comes in before I can finish.
Reed: I’m sorry you saw that.
Holding down the back-arrow, I erase the message I was nearly finished typing.
Okay. This isn’t what I miss. I’ve never felt awkward doing anything with Reed, but if we stay on this topic, I know that’s what I’m going to feel. I don’t want to think about that night anymore. I’ve already allowed my mind to run rampant with images of what he did with that woman before he was dragged out of the bar. I know how Reed flirts, and I’m grateful I didn’t see it. But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about it.
Constantly thinking about it.
Time for a subject change.
Me: What are you doing right now?
I drop my head back onto the couch after I press send.
Shit. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. Maybe now that he’s made sure I know how regretful he is, there’s no other reason to keep this conversation going.
I should’ve grabbed the entire plate of cookies.
My phone beeps.
Reed: Having a great day constructing.
I smile against my hand. That, right there, that’s what I miss. Reed being exactly how he’s always been with me. Making me smile when I’m two seconds away from crawling underneath something and hiding out until winter. Easy. Playful. This is the Reed I want. The one who brings out the happiest version of myself.
Me: Didn’t I ask you to erase that entire message off your phone?
Reed: No. You asked me to forget you said you don’t get dick very often. I didn’t, btw.
Me: Awesome! I’m so happy to hear you still have that conversation. That wasn’t embarrassing for me or anything.
Reed: It’s safe with me. Only I know how deprived you are of dick.
I set the phone down and grab a glass of milk out of the fridge. Deprived of dick? Hardly. Reed made sure of that.
Oh, no. Don’t go there right now.
My ringtone sounds from the couch. After grabbing another cookie and carrying it across the room with my glass, I set it down on the coffee table and pick up my phone.
“Yesss?” I answer, playfully stretching out the word.
“You didn’t respond.”
His voice is tight. Was he worried I wouldn’t?
I dunk my cookie into the milk. “I was getting a drink.” I take a bite. “For my cookie. Did you think I was going to make you wait another six days?”
His dry laugh fills my ear. “The thought crossed my mind. What are you doing?”
“Eating cookies.”
“Besides that.”
“Nothing.” I lean back onto the couch, tucking my feet under my butt. “Are you on break?”
I hear a door close. “Not really. I feel like I fucking need one though. If my sister’s asshole boyfriend doesn’t stop screwing shit up, I might have to fake an illness and go home. He’s getting on my last fucking nerve.”
Riley. I completely forgot about that awkward discovery yesterday.
“Even if it had been a whole five minutes, Reed lasts a lot longer than that.”
Jesus Christ. Thank God that’s all I said.
“Have you talked to her lately?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Your sister. Did she tell you we know each other?”
There is a long pause, then finally, “Uh, no. How do you know Riley?”
Leaning forward, I dunk the other half of the cookie into the milk, then pop the rest of it in my mouth, chewing before saying, “We volunteer together at Holy Cross Soup Kitchen. She’s really sweet. I like her.”
“You volunteer at the soup kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I used to be homeless.”
An even longer pause settles between us this time. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, untucking my legs and pulling my knees against my chest. His breath quickens in my ear.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You were homeless?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
“What the fuck, Beth?” he growls, startling me.
I rub the part of my shin I’ve just dug my nails into. “Jeez, calm down.”
“Calm down? Why the hell don’t I know about this?”
I wipe my hand off on my shorts and fall back onto the couch, feet at one end, head at the other. “Um, I don’t know. I guess it never came up.”
And it’s not something I usually like to talk about.
He draws out his next breath. “When?” he curtly demands.
I pick at my lip.
“When, Beth?” He sounds pressing, maybe even a little urgent.
Because I didn’t tell him? Because he doesn’t like the idea of me going through that?
Pinching my eyes shut, I think of how different things would’ve been if I lived here when my momma died. Maybe I never would’ve been homeless. Or if I was, maybe it would’ve been Reed who came up to my window that day, offering me food and some company.
What would he have thought of me?
“Beth,” Reed says gently, losing the edge in his voice. “When?”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Right after my momma died. It wasn’t for very long.”
“And then you found out about your aunt and moved here?”
“No.” The bottom of my shirt becomes bunched in my fist. “No, I was living with someone when I found out about my aunt.”