Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Acknowledgments
Other Titles by Teagan Hunter:
About the Author
Let’s Get Textual
Teagan Hunter
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Titles by Teagan Hunter:
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
* * *
Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Hunter
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer quoting brief passages for review purposes only.
* * *
Cover Image by Andreas Gradin from Stocksy.com
Editing by Editing by C. Marie
Formatting by AB Formatting
Christine,
You’ll never guess, but I…
One
Unknown: Are we still meeting tomorrow?
I stare at the text on my phone, brows pinched in confusion because it’s not a number I recognize.
Then it hits me: Liam must have a new number…again, and he must have forgotten to tell me…again.
Brothers are so much fun.
Me: Yep. What time again?
* * *
Unknown: 2
* * *
Me: I’ll be there.
Tossing my phone onto the empty pillow beside me, I think back to our conversation on Wednesday. I could have sworn he said two-thirty because he’ll be across town and there’s no way he could arrive by two, but maybe he changed his mind? Either way, I’ll make it. I love my bi-weekly lunch meetings with my brother.
“Babe, you done yet?”
An unfriendly muffled response filters through the bathroom door. I want to argue back, to say something equally as unfriendly, but it’s no use.
“Whatever,” I mutter, rolling on my side and reaching over to flip the lamp off.
I lie awake, watching the minutes tick by on the clock on my bedside table. Ten minutes later, Caleb tiptoes in from the bathroom and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. He sits there for another two minutes, wringing his hands together, before he slides into the bed to lie beside me.
He doesn’t say anything; neither do I.
We’re at that point in our relationship—you know, the one where it’s more of a hassle to be together than to be apart. To be honest, we’ve coexisted in this place for about a month now. Caleb’s words have become curt, and I haven’t been a peach myself. We haven’t been intimate in weeks. Nothing in our relationship says relationship anymore. We’re simply biding our time until we can’t take it a second longer.
I can’t take it a second longer.
“Caleb?”
“What?” His response comes out clipped, like he’s already done with this conversation before it’s begun.
Another sign I’m about to ask the right thing.
“What are we doing?”
He sighs, and I can feel him run a hand over his face. “I’m not sure anymore, Delia.”
“Should…” I lick my dry lips and push out a worried breath. “Should we break up?”
Caleb rolls my way. On instinct, I reach out to brush away the lock of blond hair that falls over his eye. He grabs my hand, halting my movements, and I meet his stare. His dark blue eyes are sad, like he knew this was coming.
I know what he’ll say before he says it.
“I think so.”
Caleb gathers me into his arms as the tears begin to fall.
I’m sad, and though it shouldn’t, it surprises me. We’ve been together for six months now—quite a run when it comes to college relationships—and, well, I’m used to him…used to his touch, his smell, his smile. I’ll miss him, but I know he’s right. We should break up, especially before we start hating each other, which is exactly where we’re headed. We’ve started picking fights, waiting and begging for the other to call it quits. We’re too comfortable, too scared to call this what it is—over.
Until now.
“I could have loved you, you know.” His voice cracks and I pull away to find his eyes are glistening with tears of his own. “If we were at different points in our lives, if we didn’t have all this shit waiting for us on the other side of graduation, we could have been good together, Delia.”
“We really could have.”
Caleb sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Do you…” He gulps. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Can you stay? Can you hold me one last time?”
His smile is sweet, and it reminds me of the day I first met him at the campus coffeehouse.
With a backpack slung over shoulder, his hair disheveled, and a wrinkled dress shirt partially unbuttoned, he gave me the same smile he is now and asked if he could share my table with me. I had glanced around the shop, certain it had to be a joke.
I was a nobody. Everyone knew he was a somebody.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, surprised I was questioning him.
“Why do you want to sit here?”
“Uh, my backpack is heavy as hell.” He hiked it up for show. “And there’s nowhere else to sit in the entire shop. Everyone’s here working on their finals and I’d like to do the same…if you’d be kind enough to let me sit with you.”
I peeked around, noting he was correct in his observation; the place was loaded with students, heads bent and noses stuck in books.
With reluctance, I caved. “Fine,” I said on a sigh. “You can sit here…on two conditions.”
“Name ’em, pretty girl.”
“Amendment: three conditions. No calling me pretty girl. No talking.” He bobbed his head like he’d known that was coming. “And no asking me out.”
He smirked, and it was one of those stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks smirks. “You assume that’ll happen?”
Waving a dismissive hand, I said, “With my sparkling personality, it’s bound to. Now sit and be quiet, mystery man.”
“It’s Caleb.”
&nbs
p; I pinned him with a glare. “No talking, and I know who you are, Caleb Mills. You play baseball.” His eyes lit up, so I added, “And I hate baseball.”
Caleb chuckled, took a seat, and didn’t say a word the rest of the afternoon.
Our “accidental” study dates continued for a week, then he asked me out. I said yes and we’ve been together since.
Until now.
I wish with everything I have I could say Caleb is the one, but he’s not. I’ve known for a long time now, but I’ve been too scared to do anything about it. He’s a great guy—smart, kind, focused—and above all, I know he cares for me. I know he loves me, but it’s not in the kind of way we both need him to. I don’t love him that way either. We both know it. We’re better as friends, as Caleb Mills and Delia Devlin, not as Caleb and Delia, the “cutest campus couple to make it” as we were voted for the school gossip ’zine last spring.
“You promise we’ll still be friends, Delia?”
I smile against him. “I couldn’t imagine anything else, Caleb.”
Liam: I’ll need to reschedule our meeting and move it to next week.
Meeting? Reschedule? Why does my brother sound like a big business mogul and not the middle school teacher he is?
Ignoring his weirdness, I shoot over a quick response.
Me: Works for me. Let me know when you want to meet.
* * *
Liam: I’ll be in touch.
It’s official: he’s acting strange.
A shuffle of feet pulls me from the response I begin to type. I click off my screen and peek up to find Caleb emerging from the hallway, overnight bag slipped over his shoulder and box in his arms.
I give him a sad smile, and he returns it.
“I think that’s everything.”
“Caleb, I—”
“Come on, Delia. You don’t have to say anything. This is mutual, right? We work better as friends. We pushed for romance where we shouldn’t have, and this is for the best. We agreed, remember? So no more apologizing. Let’s have coffee and then you can give me a hug and walk me to the door. Deal?”
I wipe the errant tear rolling down my cheek and smile at what a sweet man he can be. I’ll miss that side of him. “Deal.”
He sets the box on the floor near the door and strides into the kitchen like we’re not breaking up right now.
“So, how’s life?” Caleb teases as he places his mug on the counter and takes a seat next to me.
“With wit like that, how could I ever let you go?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles at me over the rim of the mug. “I know, I’m a catch.”
“You’re something, Caleb.”
“I’ll miss you.”
I grin. “I know.”
We sit together in silence. You’d think it’d be awkward or sad, but it feels comfortable, like we’re old friends.
After another cup of coffee each, Caleb stands with finality.
“I guess this is it.”
“I guess it is. Let me grab my coat. I’ll walk you down.”
He holds up a hand. “No, there’s no need for you to go all the way down there.”
“Caleb…”
“Delia, come on. Let me have my pride, huh? I don’t want to do the walk of shame with my ex.”
I grab at my chest, tears beginning to fill my eyes again. “That word sounds so harsh.”
“Shame?”
“No, ex. It stings.”
“It’s what we are.”
“I know, Caleb. I know.”
He spreads his arms wide and I smile, falling into them. He wraps me in the saddest hug of my life; I know it will be the last one I share with him that will ever feel this intimate.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“I won’t.”
He kisses the top of my head then lets me go. I wipe away the tear that’s managed to streak down my cheek as he picks up his bag and box of things.
I grab the door for him and watch with sadness as he steps over the threshold.
“Smile for me, pretty girl,” he says, turning back to me. “It’s not over. It’s the beginning of a new adventure.”
I give him the grin he’s wanting before he turns his back to me, leaving me standing in the doorway, staring after the boy I could have loved.
I close the door and give myself a shake.
“It’s not the end, Delia.”
“Are you talking to yourself again? It’s too early for that crap.” My roommate and best friend Zoe scuffles down the hall, curly caramel hair a mess, hazel eyes puffy from sleep. “I need coffee ASAP.”
“There’s a fresh pot,” I tell her, pointing to the barely touched brew.
“What’s not the end, Delia?”
“Huh?”
She pours her coffee and dumps enough creamer in there for a village. I make a face as she blows on the hot liquid. “Don’t start on me. You know I like my coffee the same color as my skin, so just shut it.” I wrinkle my nose more and she ignores me, taking a sip of her morning brew. “What were you just talking about? What’s not the end?”
“Oh.” I brush a hand through my hair, tucking the long brown strands behind my ear. “Caleb and I broke up this morning.” Zoe lets out a gasp, sloshing hot coffee all over her hand. “Well, technically it was last night.”
“Last night? Broke up? What the hell, Delia! Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have been there for you.”
Since our first day of freshman year, Zoe’s been my rock. We met at orientation and have been inseparable since. After having to spend the last three years in the dorms, living in separate residences, we finally managed to score an apartment off campus this year. If we thought we were close before, it was nothing compared to now.
“You were sleeping. We talked, and we’re fine now.”
“Fine as in you worked your shit out and you’re back together?”
“No. Fine as in we’re friends. We made the right choice.”
She plops down on the counter, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “I…I can’t believe it. You and Caleb, huh? That’s…wow.” She huffs, blowing a stray hair out of her face. “I never expected it. I believed you’d last the long haul. He was such a good guy.”
I nod, taking a seat next to her. “Is, Zoe. He’s still a good guy. It was mutual.”
“So we don’t hate him?”
I smile sadly. “No, we don’t hate him.”
“Good, because he has one hell of an ass.”
She bumps my shoulder and I laugh. When I realize it doesn’t hurt to do so, I know I’ll be okay.
Two
Liam: Who is this?
* * *
Me: Um, Delia…
* * *
Liam: Who?
* * *
Me: Your sister?
* * *
Liam: I don’t have a sister. Is this a joke?
* * *
Me: Liam? What, no! Are YOU joking?
* * *
Liam: Who’s Liam?
My phone lights up in my hand, and I stop midstride. The screen says Liam, but I don’t believe that to be true now. I quickly make my way to a bench as curiosity fills me and I hit the accept button. “H-Hello?”
“Who is this?” The voice is gruff and not familiar to my ears.
I glance around campus, seeing if I can find someone lurking behind a tree, playing a prank on me. Nothing appears out of the ordinary.
“This is Delia,” I answer. My eyes fall to slits with suspicion, and though the caller can’t see me—or I hope he can’t—I know my tone conveys my qualms.
“Delia?” An electric spark races down my spine with the way the stranger says my name. “What the hell kind of name is that?”
Okay, forget the shiver. Screw this douche.
“The name I was given. Now who in the hell is this?”
“I think there was a mix-up.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Doesn’t answer my question though.”
The man on the other end of the line snorts. “You have a mouth on you, huh?”
“It appears that way. But—”
“I still haven’t answered your question. Yeah, I heard you. I’m Zach, and you’re not Mr. Warner, are you?”
“Do I sound like a Mr. Warner to you?”
He chuckles again, and I feel it all over my body. I hate that I feel it. “No. You sound much cuter than him.”
“So you think Mr. Warner is somewhat cute?”
“Ah, a sense of humor too. I can get on board with that.”
Something dawns on me: he’s flirting with me, and I kind of like it.
It’s been one week since Caleb and I broke up, and I wish it wasn’t true but the breakup has affected me more than I expected it would. We’ve been cordial in the class we share, even going as far as to meet afterward and grab a coffee, but things have changed. The dynamics of my friendships with others have already shifted. I’m not star third baseman Caleb Mills’ girlfriend anymore; I’m just Delia, journalism major and all-around normal girl, and I’m mostly okay with it.
“How did you get this number?”
“My roommate. We work together and he’s sort of my assistant, taking my calls for me. He wrote your number down as a client call from the home office.” He sighs, and it’s filled with irritation. “I was on my way out of the apartment when I sent him a text. I must have entered it into my cell wrong.”
“You communicate with clients via text?”
Zach tsks playfully, and I realize I’m on the phone with a stranger and there’s a smile plastered across my face. I shouldn’t still be on the phone and I shouldn’t be smiling, but what’s the harm in a friendly conversation, right?
“Are you judging me, Delia?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
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