He Kissed Me First (Kiss & Make Up Book 2)
Page 8
TO: Cecelia Carter
DATE: September 23, 2014 at 06:42:12 PM CST
FROM: Matthew Wakefield
Subject: Would You Rather: the embarrassing mom addition
Have your mom randomly email a girl (or in your case, a guy) and apologize for your behavior OR! Have your mom show up at your university wearing a tee shirt with your face screen printed on it?
MSW
Sent from my iPhone
TO: Matthew Wakefield
DATE: September 23, 2014 at 06:45:22 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter
Subject: Um....
That’s an easy one - I would rather have my mom show up to my university wearing a tee shirt with my face screen printed on it. But wait - I have a feeling YOUR mom has done that already, so does that question actually count..? I played Lacrosse growing up, and if you know anything about that, it’s not really a sport your parents show up to wearing the same kind of paraphernalia that say, hockey parents show up wearing. My mom’s getup was more the ‘polo shirt’ variety
Sent from my Android SmartPhone
TO: Cecelia Carter
DATE: September 23, 2014 at 06:55:07 PM CST
FROM: Matthew Wakefield
Subject: No Words.
Do my parents ever come to watch me coach? Naw. It’s way too far for them to drive all the way from River Glen to Madison just to watch a group of 12 year olds massacre the game. Sometimes it’s painful to watch. Well actually, there are a few kids that seriously crack me up - I still have to tie up this one kid Isaac’s laces. He can’t skate for shit, but his heart is in it. It’s something you really gotta come see; you would think it sucks coaching an underdog team, but it’s really rewarding. I get more satisfaction out of it than I would coaching a winning team, and Wes feels the same way. NOT that we sit around discussing that shit or anything...
MSW
Sent from my iPhone
TO: Matthew Wakefield
DATE: September 23, 2014 at 07:18:54 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter
Subject: Deep Thoughts.
I didn’t take you for a guy who sits around discussing his feelings but I guess I was wrong (wink wink). No use in denying it. Truth: I know for a fact Weston likes to have “life chats” with Molly, promptly followed by, well... YOU KNOW... - C
Sent from my Android SmartPhone
TO: Cecelia Carter
DATE: September 23, 2014 at 07:20:14 PM CST
FROM: Matthew Wakefield
Subject: You bitch!
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??????????????????
MSW
Sent from my iPhone
Chapter Eleven
Matthew
“I’m jealous of me, too.” - Neve Vanderhalt
I stare at the email on my phone, the horrible visual of my sister and her boyfriend screwing, thanks to her horrible roommate. Instead of emailing Cecelia back, I go with the quickest option and tap out a text.
Me: Thanks for the visual. My retinas are burning.
A few seconds later...
Cecelia: Well at least you don’t have to HEAR it.
Oh my god, I’m going to kill this girl.
Me: What the fuck.
Sorry about the harsh language (but not really). No one ever accused me of being a gentleman, and I make no apologies for the frequent cursing.
Cecelia: ((Shrug)) Truth sucks, don’t it?
Me: Kind of.
There is a long pause in the conversation, and she doesn’t respond back. Not that my response gave her anything to respond to.
A word to the wise: If you’re ever trying to have a conversation with someone, always - and I mean always - use open ended statements that end with a question mark so the other person has something to respond to.
I type out another message and change the subject.
Me: So what did you end up doing today?
Cecelia: Some of my thesis paper for grad school. I’m just about done.
Me: No shit - when do you graduate?
Cecelia: LOL. I graduated last year with a BS in Econ. I’ll have my MBA in a few months. 42 days actually.
Me: So... how did you end up roommates with Molly if she’s a sophomore and you’re in grad school?
Cecelia: Good question. Answer: Facebook.
Me: WTF. Do my parents know Molly found her roomie on the internet?????
Cecelia: Whoa buddy. Don’t get offensive - It’s not like I’m a creeper. My friend Abby’s friend is Jenna’s cousin so it all worked out.
Me: Oh. Like one of those “my sister’s cousin’s daughter’s boyfriend” type of deals.
Cecelia: Exactly!
Cecelia: Match made in heaven (wink). Plus I get the added bonus of her giant boyfriend as a bodyguard. Not to mention he has some really HOT friends.
Me: Um......
She doesn’t stop there.
Cecelia: Speaking of which. Guess who called me?
Me: Do I want to know?
Cecelia: Your friend Neve. He asked me out. Yay me!
I stare at the phone a few stony seconds before lobbing it on to the glass table in my dining room, irritated. It lands with a loud crack, skids across the surface and falls to the Oriental rug below. I ignore it and stalk to the kitchen, throwing on the water in the sink, pump some foaming hand soap onto my palms and scrub my hands angrily.
What the fuck is Neve doing asking her out? Is she nuts saying yes? They only just met! Not only that, he never ran it past me. I mean, where did he even get her damn number from?
Never mind. I already know the answer to that one - my sister’s idiot boyfriend, who is clearly becoming a wealth of information where Cecelia Carter is concerned.
The more I think about it, the more pissed off I become.
I shut the water off, yank a hand towel off the oven handle and dry my hands before stalking angrily back into the dining room and swiping my phone off the floor in a testosterone filled fury.
I shove it in my back pocket, and purposefully set my mind to taking my mind off the whole thing. If I stay busy, I won’t have to think about it anymore.
So for the next few hours I’ve managed to:
1. Run five miles on my condo complexes treadmill in under thirty minutes flat, while watching almost two entire episodes of Full House. Thirty minutes is military speed, thank you very much.
2. Organize and re-name all the pictures on my iPhone into tidy little files.
3. Clean the toilets and sink in my master bathroom.
4. Cleaned them again.
5. Order a large Toppers pizza, two-liter bottle of Cola, and dipping sauce. It’s way over my allotted caloric intake for the day, but at this point, I couldn’t care less.
However. Two hours later, Cecelia’s excited Yay me! text is still grating on my nerves, and I curl my lip. I don’t realize it now, but tonight when I look back at this moment, I’ll recognize this for what it is: jealously.
And even though I’m not completely over myself yet, I text her back - albeit hours later.
Me: Great. Have fun.
Yeah. Even I know that sounds sarcastic - and yes, I know I’m acting like an immature dick, but I. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. I’m pissed. Oblivious to my mood, or completely ignoring my sarcasm, she quickly responds: I will - I am SOOOO excited!
Honestly. Could she have added any more O’s to that that sentence?
I take my phone’s battery out and abandon it on the kitchen counter for the rest of the night.
Chapter Twelve
Cecelia
“You seriously h
aven’t ever heard of a water bra? It’s, like, standard issue in a woman’s revenge tool kit.” - Jenna
“Hey Moll... do you mind if I come in for a minute?” I hesitate in Molly’s bedroom door, biting my lower lip. She’s at her desk with the light on, text book open and Pandora softly playing a track from Ed Sheeran.
She looks up. “What a question - of course you can come in. Have a seat.” She points to the bed and closes her book, turning to straddle her desk chair. “What’s with the sad face?”
Flopping down on the bed, I let out a loud sigh and throw my face down into her pillow. “Ugh! I’ve gone and done it this time.”
“Oooh, I like the sound of that,” Molly says, chuckling softly.
“Oh god, now you’re starting to sound just like Jenna. Which isn’t a compliment, considering she’s a sexual deviant.”
“Mmm, she’d like to consider herself more a continental woman of mystery...”
“Isn’t it International Man of Mystery? Continental makes no sense whatsoever.”
Molly shrugs. “Jenna makes no apologies. Plus, she’s strictly mysterious in United States. Sometimes Hawaii.”
“You two are so weird.”
“Jenna’s weird. I’m simply relaying the message.”
“Okay, okay, this conversation has gotten completely off track.” I take a deep sigh. “So the reason I’m here - and you know this isn’t easy for me to say. I’ll probably choke on my words a few times...”
“Would you spit it out?”
“I can’t! It’s embarrassing.”
“Cece, you’re a grown ass woman. Spit it out.”
I look down at my chest. “Grown woman? Please. My boobs aren’t even fully developed.”
Molly laughs. “You are so full of shit. I happen to think your boobs are way too big for your frame.”
She’s lying but I love her for it anyways. My boobs are ‘fine’ - nice even - but I won’t be sending in any photographs to Playboy magazine. I’m a B cup on most days, sometimes a C when I have my period, and my bras totally suck because I’m way too cheap to shell out fifty bucks for a decent one at Victoria’s Secret.
“So, I have this date with your brother’s friend Neve.” I say the words and for some reason, I have to wait for the excitement that should come along with such an announcement.
Molly blinks are me and puts a hand on her chest before saying, “Oh god. I thought for a second you were going to say you had a date with my broh-ther...”
Yeah. Not really sure how to translate that comment... Is she saying this in a relieved kind of way because her brother’s a big dope, or is she disappointed I don’t have a date with him...?
I push on. “Well. I mean. I told him and he seemed pissed. I mean. He didn’t text me back.”
“Wait... who was pissed?”
“Your brother.”
“I thought you said your date was with Neve.”
“It is.”
“So wait. What?”
“I told him I had a date and he didn’t text me back.”
“Who didn’t?”
“Oh my gawd! Are you even paying attention?” Frustrated, I shout this last part and flap my arms like a duck.
“Whoa Nelly. Chill. Start over. You have a date with Neve... but... who didn’t text you back? Neve, or my brother? I’m sooo confused.”
I take a deep breath and count to five. “Neve called me for a date. I accepted. I told Matthew. Now he’s not talking to me.”
Molly stares. In fact, she stopped blinking.
“Did you hear me?”
I wave a hand in front of her face. “Yoo-hoo...”
She shakes her head and lets out a “Whoa! For a second there I thought I heard you wrong. It sounded like you said you and Matthew were texting each other!” She gives a little giggle. “I know that’s not happening because you would have told me about it, right?”
Guiltily, I look away.
“Cecelia Jane Carter! What the fack! You little slut!” Molly grabs a decorative pillow (one of many on her white, eyelet-lace themed bed) and hits me in the face with it - not once, but twice. “How could you withhold this information?!”
If only she knew how easy it was...
Too easy to keep it a secret.
Too easy with him.
Easy, easy, easy.
I sigh and flop down on the bed.
Molly groans. “Ugh, spare me. I don’t even freaking believe this.” She flops down next to me and we lay there, staring up at the white, popcorn ceiling. “How the hell did this all come about? All this time, Weston’s been running interference and you two are secretly still doing it anyways!”
“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. It just sort of happened...”
“Oh barf. Everyone says that. I say that.”
“Well it’s true! After your mom made him send the ‘I can’t email you anymore’ email, it just kept going. I mean. He is kind of funny. Well, I mean, most times he’s not. But it doesn’t really matter because he’s been so kind. Did you know he coaches a youth hockey league?”
The look on Molly’s face is priceless, and she stares at me like... like I’ve just swiped the last pair of clearanced-out Tory Burch flats out from under her at a Neiman Marcus sale.
Horrified.
“Are you trying to make me nauseous? Ugh, you should see the sappy look on your damn face.” She smacks me with the back of her arm. Taking a deep, calming breath she finally says, “So. You’ve been emailing. And texting too? And now he’s ignoring you because....?”
The word hangs there.
“Because the last text I sent him was about my date with Neve. And he never responded. Here, see for yourself.” I lift my hips and dig the phone out of my skinny jeans, setting it in her open palm.
Thumbing over the messages, Molly’s lips curl. “I think I’m going to throw up. What’s this shit about him speaking Italian?” She raises her eyebrow and looks over at me, laughing. “Seriously? I need to take a screen shot of this and use it to blackmail him. What a tool.” What began as a giggle is now out-of-control laughter, complete with a hiccup at the end.
I’m laughing too. “I know Molly, but I can’t help it. I totally didn’t mean to keep emailing him. It’s just... he’s getting so damn adorable.”
She lets my words marinade for a few minutes, and I let the silence linger in the air without feeling the need to fill it.
“Well. It seems pretty obvious to me that he’s jealous. I know my brother, and he’s going to ignore you now because you’ve pissed him off. Sorry, that’s how he is.” She tosses the phone on the bed. “But look on the bright side! You have a date with Neve. And he is so hot. Wayyy hotter than Matthew...”
I hesitate, mostly because I don’t agree that Neve is better looking, and give a non-committed shrug. “Uh, yeah, I guess?”
“Yeah I guess... but....?” She twists her wrist in a circular motion, encouraging me to go on.
“But. I don’t like him like that.”
“So what are you saying? That Neve doesn’t make your lady parts the least bit wet?”
My palm slaps my forehead. “I cannot believe you just said that...”
“Sorry. I heard it from Jenna and she’s kind of a freak.” She apologizes, then, “But you are still going on that date with him, right?”
“Do you really think I should? I mean, isn’t that leading him on?”
“Are you kidding me right now? No it’s not leading him on - it’s a date, not a marriage proposal.” Molly pats my leg. “If I know my brother - and I think I do - he is going to find out the details from Neve and show up. It’s a move directly from the Matthew Wakefield Playbook.” Molly blows on her nails and then brushes them across her sweater in an ‘I got this’ move. “He’s like a freaking little baby that doesn’t like to share. And when he shows up to ruin his friends date - because he will - boy is he going to regret not getting to you first.”
Chapter Thirteen
Matthew
“I don’t care where we eat. As long as it’s not one of the 12 places you just named.” - Someecards.com
So. Not gonna lie.
This isn’t my first dip in the espionage pool.
One time, my buddy Alan - a really nice guy from some small town in Iowa - was dating this wacky chick (Stephanie, I think her name was) back when we were sophomores at Madison. Stephanie had a penchant for unreturned phone calls, texts, and ‘forgetting’ to show up for dates.
Well, we finally convinced Alan she was probably cheating on him with some dude - and we were convinced he was from the Rugby team. After all, she went to a lot of their house parties.
It actually took a lot of convincing, because, well... Alan loved Stephanie. Or what he thought was love anyways. I mean - what were we? Nineteen? Not to mention, Alan wasn’t just a geek - he was the geek (think: plaid shirts tucked into khaki’s).
Basically, Steph was way out of Alan’s league.
He knew it, and he worshiped her for it.
Alan’s chicken shit, passive aggressiveness to confront her was the opportunity we all needed to go spy on her. We set up special ops; gave ourselves code names. Wore black shirts. Black masks.
The whole nine yards.
I can’t vouch that we blended in to our environment: in an awkward twist, half of us were well over six feet tall and collectively we weighed over eight hundred pounds...
Plus, Manny Cushman wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
From one shitty house party and bar to another, we loudly tailed Stephanie all over Madison - and I can tell you this: Turns out Alan was right. She wasn’t cheating up him with a dude from the rugby team.
Nope.
Stephanie was cheating on Alan with some girl from the Drama department.
An Opera major.
Talk about a dramatic end to an evening of surveillance. Jesus Christ. I don’t remember who cried harder after she’d been caught red handed: Alan or Stephanie.
So yeah - I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty damn good at espionage.
Definitely am not going to classify this particular trip across town as stalking because in my defense, I have seen Cecelia Carter go all kinds of crazy with my own two eyes, and figure it’s my Civic Duty to protect Neve from any unforeseen outbursts.