“I need to make a stop in the bathroom before we go,” I told them.
“We’ll be waiting in the car,” Dad responded.
I was happy that tonight I was headed to Adam and Piper’s house to have dinner with all my family. Sometimes you had to forgive someone because not doing so would hurt both of you more than it ever benefited you.
I felt around on my bedside table for my phone, bringing it up to my face once I found it. I wasn’t quite awake so the screen was blurry, but I could make out the time and Coby’s name. I ignored the notification, setting the phone back down and climbing out of bed to go to the bathroom.
Since it was Saturday, I fell back into bed after my trip to the bathroom and grabbed my phone. This time my vision was clear. Clear enough to make out that it was a message from Coby through the dating app. A frown creased my forehead as I tapped on it to open Blush, which took me to the chat with Coby.
Coby: I think it’s cool you’re a writer. I could never string that many words together, let alone write an entire novel.
I was thoroughly confused by his message. The last message I sent Coby was from the day he stood me up, and I never told him I was a writer. We didn’t get that far in our correspondence. I scrolled up and my confusion quickly morphed into anger. I clutched my phone as I climbed out of bed and stormed down the hall. I threw open Stacey’s bedroom door, causing it to bang into the wall and force her awake. She sat up straight in her bed, looking around frantically until she saw me.
“What the actual hell, Mallory?” she demanded.
I stepped farther into her room and thrust my phone in her face. She pushed my hand away. “Why the hell did you hack into my phone and send Coby a message pretending to be me?”
She pushed her hair out of her face. “That’s why you’re barging into my room like a crazy person? It’s…” She looked at her alarm clock across the room, but she didn’t have her contacts in so there was no way she could read it. And I wasn’t helping her. “Too damn early for this.”
“Stacey.”
“Fine,” she said, throwing her arms up. “You need to learn how to forgive people. He made a mistake. He’s apologized for that mistake, and he seems genuinely interested in you, Rory. Why not give him another chance?”
My anger deflated. I could never stay angry at Stacey for long, which was so freaking annoying. Stacey grabbed my wrist and pulled me down on the bed with her. I knew she meant well. She hated my stance on relationships and love and because of that she was always trying to force the person she thought could be my soul mate on me.
“Read his messages again,” she pleaded. “The two of you have so much in common and seem well matched. Even if you don’t want to go out with him again, the two of you could at least be friends.”
“You of all people know why I have such a tough time trusting and forgiving people,” I stated weakly.
“I know, and I get it. I do, Ror, but how can anyone ever prove to you that they can be trusted if you never give them a real chance to do so? No one is perfect, not even you. I want you to be happy, babe. It’s up to you what you do, but I hope you consider messaging Coby back and giving him another shot.”
She hugged me, resting her head on my shoulder as I considered her words.
8
Zeke
I hoisted my gym bag onto my shoulder and left the locker room. I waved bye to Daniel and one of the assistant coaches on my dad’s staff who was working with me. I took a side door to the parking lot, heading to my truck. One thing I didn’t miss about Vermont was the frigid weather and snow. Growing up here hadn’t endeared me to the stuff, and I couldn’t stand it. Driving in it was the worst for me. No matter how many times I’d done it, I still wasn’t used to it.
I hurried to my truck, pressing the button on my key fob to unlock the doors. I was glad I remembered to start the car ten minutes before leaving the gym. The warm air that blasted me when I pulled the driver’s door open was a welcome feeling. I grabbed my phone, throwing my bag into the backseat. I unlocked the screen, and the first thing my eyes zeroed in on was a message from the dating app. It didn’t tell me who was messaging me, but that didn’t stop my heart rate from speeding up. I was still on the app because of Mallory. It was my only connection with her right now.
I opened Blush and went to the message. It was from Mallory. She’d started talking to me again last Friday before she went quiet again a day later. I read the message she’d sent me.
Tasha: My bestie hacked into my phone and was the one sending messages on my behalf. Sometimes I want to strangle her, but I don’t know who else would tolerate my ass if I did that. I guess I’m stuck with her for now.
I chuckled. Mallory’s relationship with Stacey intrigued me. I still found it crazy they were dormmates in college and were still friends ten years later.
Me: Does that mean you’ll ghost me again?
I wanted to be straight-up—well, as honest as I could be right at the moment. I wanted this online relationship with Mallory because I was hoping I’d gain some insight into the person she was now. Being armed with that information could help me when I encountered her in real life. I was playing with fire. I should leave it alone. I should delete the app and never talk to Mallory online again. I should accept that I fucked up and forget about her, but it was so damn hard to do that. But all the reasons I had for walking away were plenty. She was Daniel’s ex, and she had a reason to hate my guts. Plus, I wasn’t planning on staying in Vermont. As soon as I got an offer, I was leaving as quickly as I could, because this was never a place I wanted to grow old in. Being around Mallory again seemed to strip me of my good sense and reason. I was going to pursue Mallory because I may never get another chance.
If she’d give me any chance when we were in person, I wouldn’t have to resort to this kind of deceit. She hadn’t been exactly welcoming when I sat with her and Stacey at the Busy Bean, but she’d tolerated me. When I ran into her yesterday outside of the bakery, she’d reverted to her icy demeanor and sharp barbs before leaving me standing outside. And I wasn’t saying she was wrong or that I didn’t understand why she was like that with me. When she talked to Coby, she was open, funny, and a little flirty. I liked talking to her about sports—not basketball—her struggles with writing, and anything else we could think of. We seemed to be able to find topics to discuss for hours.
I saw that she’d read the message but hadn’t responded yet. I closed out of the app, dropping my phone in the console after turning on my music. I couldn’t sit here waiting on her to respond. My knee was aching since we’d increased my activity today during physical therapy and on the court. I needed to get home and put some ice on it.
Once I was home and settled, I found a reply from Mallory.
Tasha: I'm not going to ghost you again. I guess I’ll give you another chance but know that you’re one of the lucky few to ever get this outside of my family. You can thank my bestie for that.
Relief washed over me when I read her words. I knew from experience that once Mallory was done with you, there was no coming back from that. But I also knew she’d given me chance after chance when we were kids. I’d been the one who forced her to end our friendship and her association with me. I didn’t know how she was now when it came to forgiveness, but I was happy she was willing to give “Coby” another chance.
Tasha: But I don’t want to do another meeting or an attempt at one. At least not right now. I may be willing to forgive you for standing me up, but I’m not stupid enough to trust that you wouldn’t do it again. There had to be a reason you didn’t want to meet with me.
Me: Tasha, I can try to explain.
I didn’t know how I’d explain it at all. I couldn’t tell her who I was for real and that was the reason I didn’t walk into that café. I could make up a lie, but where did that leave me once I finally figured out how to come clean? If something happened between us offline, I didn’t want lies on top of lies to be the reason she couldn’t forgive me
. I needed to keep things as simple as I could for now.
Tasha: I don’t want to hear it. Can we move on from here? From this point forward, we’re only friends.
Me: Deal.
She asked me about my day, and just like that, we fell into our pre-failed-date ways. I settled on my bed as I chatted with Mallory.
Dad had a big grin on his face when he opened the door. I stepped inside, and he pulled me into a bear hug. Even though I’d been in Vermont for a few months, I hadn’t spent as much time with my father as I could have.
“You’re looking good, old man,” I said when he released me.
“Who are you calling old? I’m sure I can still beat you in a game of one-on-one,” he joked.
He was probably right since I couldn’t even run up and down the court right now. I shed my coat, hanging it in the closet by the door, before following him farther into his apartment. Olivia—his latest girlfriend—was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. I greeted her warmly. I liked her. At least this time she was closer to my dad’s age than she was to mine. Dad hadn’t had a long-term relationship since he and my mom divorced when I was fourteen. He didn’t date much when I was in high school, to be honest. He focused on coaching me and his job at the university.
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Olivia said. “Why don’t you get Zeke something to drink, Joaquin?”
“Water’s fine,” I said. “I’m trying not to drink while I’m training.”
“That’s smart,” Dad replied.
He grabbed bottles of water for both of us, and we sat in the living room while we waited for Olivia to finish dinner.
“How is rehab going, Son?”
“It’s fine.”
“When will you be back on the court? Will you be able to get picked up by a team? What’s your agent saying about interest?” His questions came one after the other, not giving me a chance to respond.
My hand tightened around my bottle, making the plastic crinkle. This was why I didn’t visit my dad often; I didn’t need the reminder of how much of a failure I was. When my father was playing, he never missed a lot of games. He had some injuries, but he didn’t let them keep him off the court. When he asked me questions like this, I couldn’t help feeling some type of way. His questions felt more like accusations and judgment than an inquiry into how my rehab was progressing.
When he asked me these questions, I didn’t hear “When will you be back on the court?” Instead, I heard “Why are you still sitting on your ass and not playing? I didn’t let anything keep me from playing.” Although he’d never said that to me when talking to me about my injury, he’d talked about how he always played through injuries. Because of this, I thought I should be doing the same, but instead, as soon as something happened, I was out of the game for weeks or months at a time.
“There hasn’t been any interest yet,” I answered. “I should be ready to get back on the court at the start of training camp. Seth is sure there will be teams interested, though.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said. “Do you have a preference of where you go?”
“At this point? Not even a little bit. I just want to get back to playing ball.”
“It’ll happen for you, Son.”
I nodded as I tipped back the bottle of water. I always wanted to make my dad proud of me. It was something that drove me to work ten times harder than all my teammates. It was why I was always in the gym first and one of the last ones to leave. His approval meant a lot to me, and I felt like the only way to get that was by playing basketball. Being out of the game so much these last few years had put a strain on my relationship with my dad, who I’d always been close to. Once I was playing again, maybe we could get back to where we were before. For now, I needed to get a team to sign me.
Olivia called to us, informing us that dinner was ready. All talk of basketball was put to the side as we sat down to eat, which I was grateful for. Olivia started telling us about some of the students in her class that she hoped would pass the semester. Olivia was a professor at the university where my dad coached. I listened as the two of them talked, eating my food and not contributing as much as I could have. I didn’t want to talk about myself tonight, or anything related to my playing career.
9
Mallory
I grinned at the message I’d gotten from Coby, shifting onto my back on my bed. Since I decided to forgive him for standing me up, we’ve talked every day. I made it clear that all we could have was friendship. Anything more sailed away when he stood me up with no explanation—not that I wanted one. It didn’t matter anyway. I was glad Stacey convinced me to give him another chance, because we did have a connection and could talk about anything. I talked to him about my struggles with my writing, and he told me about the dull job he had and wished he could get out of. We talked about sports, literature, pop culture, politics, and everything in between. No topic was off limits with us, and I liked that.
I could also admit to myself that I was kind of glad Coby hadn’t shown up at the coffee shop. I didn’t want to have my heart broken or deal with anything that came with a failed relationship. I’d had time to overanalyze everything about my relationship with Coby and imagine what it would have been like if he had met me at the Bean. What if I’d fallen for him? What if the chemistry I felt with him from a distance was intensified once we met in person? Or what if we only had it when we were talking through a screen? There was no guarantee that things would work out, and I wasn’t in a place in my life to deal with that right now.
So, yeah, I was glad I hadn’t met him in person. I was glad I could maintain a friendship with him without all the other complications that came along with dating. Neither of us had brought up another date, and I knew that was because Coby was respecting my wishes. I wasn’t ever going to be the one to bring it up again, and I hoped he didn’t either. I didn’t want to have to turn him down. That would put a damper on our friendship.
I typed a quick reply to Coby, telling him I had to get offline so I could focus on writing.
Me: I have a free day with no editing projects, and the two authors I PA for don’t need me, so I need to get some words written.
Coby: Are you telling me this so that I can help you write?
Me: *middle finger emoji* I was just trying to tell you why I may not be responding to your messages. I don’t want you to have a fit because I’m ignoring you.
Coby: I’m a big boy, Tasha. I think I can handle a little neglect for the sake of work.
Me: I’m glad to hear that. Talk to you later.
Once he’d responded, I closed the app. I turned on the feature that locked my apps so I could focus and set my phone on my side table. It was after ten in the morning, and I needed to get my butt out of bed. I had big goals for today so I could get those three chapters Valerie was still waiting for and maybe one or two extra chapters. Five thousand words were doable. I’d written ten thousand words in a day on several occasions, so five shouldn’t be so hard, right? If I reached my word count goal, then I was going to buy my favorite drink and treat to celebrate. I needed to get some words on the screen for the next chapter, and I felt like that’d get my creative juices flowing. But first, I needed to get ready for the day and out of the house.
I stared at the one line of text on my computer screen, letting out a frustrated sigh. I made it to the Busy Bean two hours ago. My favorite table had been available so I’d claimed it. Once I sat down, the first sentence of this chapter spilled out of me and gave me false hope. I wrote more after that, but it was all garbage and I’d ended up scrapping it all. Now I was sitting here staring at the mostly blank document in front of me, feeling a sense of panic and defeat. I didn’t get why this story was such a huge mental block for me. I’d never struggled so much with a story. Every time I had any kind of inspiration, it didn’t last. I could write chapter after chapter one day and then go days without touching the story at all.
I closed my eyes, massaging my temples to k
eep from slamming my head against the keyboard. How helpful could that be?
“Are you okay?” a deep, masculine voice asked.
I looked up at the man standing at the end of my table, and I felt a headache coming on.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“Since when did you do that? I recall numerous times in our lives where you disregarded me so soundly that I can’t stand the sight of you now, Zeke.”
Something flickered in his whiskey-brown eyes but was gone too fast for me to even begin to figure out what it was. “I was trying to be a good friend.”
“Again, when has that been your top priority when it comes to me?”
“Do you ever think you can forgive me for what happened fifteen years ago?” he asked, his voice filled with emotions I decided to ignore.
“You know it’s more than what happened fifteen years ago. And please inform me why I must forgive you for a damn thing you’ve done to me? I’ve been fine not thinking about you all these years, and I’ll be happy when you leave town again.”
Only some of that was true because no matter how estranged we were, I’d thought about him over the years.
Zeke stared at me for a long moment before turning and walking away. I rolled my eyes at his retreating back and focused on my laptop again. Zeke Armstrong didn’t warrant a second thought from me. But I couldn’t get my head back in the game. The little concentration I had was gone. I called it for the day. I was ready to be home, snuggled under my fleece blankets with a mug of hot chocolate and watching one of the recorded basketball games on our DVR. I could try writing again later tonight. Maybe I could focus better and get something accomplished today. Sitting here wasn’t going to achieve that.
Doubletalk (The Busy Bean) Page 5