Let's Get Textual

by Teagan Hunter

  We travel through the next room, the dining area. Rose has the table already set and I have to chuckle at her arrangement.

  “I think I really like your mom. She uses paper plates instead of fancy dishware on Thanksgiving—less to clean up. Smart lady.”

  “She likes to keep it real. By the way, she’ll be eating dinner in those pajamas she’s cooking in. That’s why I’m in basketball shorts. I bet you ten bucks my dad is in sweats.” He eyes my outfit of skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a black cardigan. “You’re way overdressed.”

  “I’ll have to remember to change before dinner then.”

  “Probably a good idea. We kind of do this thing where we try to eat all the food and not leave any leftovers—like, at all.”

  “Are you telling me I can eat to my heart’s content and not have to feel embarrassed about loading my plate over and over again?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “I love this family.”

  He snorts and pulls me through the closed double doors.

  Sitting inside what I assume is their “real” living room is his father, and he shoots off the couch the moment we walk in.

  I was right—Zach’s dad is a total hottie.

  I elbow Zach and quietly say, “Told ya he was smokin’.”

  “Stop. It.”

  “Zach, my boy, come here.”

  His dad folds him into a big hug, the two holding on to each other for a moment. I won’t lie, my heart does a little flippy thing watching them together.

  They pull apart and Mr. Hastings turns my way.

  “Delia, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Hastings.”

  “No, no, Jack is fine.”

  My mouth drops open. “You’re Jack, and…”

  “She’s Rose.” He grins, and he has the same dimple his son does. “Yeah. It’s kind of a funny story.”

  “Not this again. He loves it when people connect the dots,” Rose hollers from the kitchen.

  “What, babe? It’s a good story!”

  Rose appears in the doorway and leans up against it, eyeing her husband. “Go ahead—I know you’re dying to.”

  “So,” Jack starts, “we met in grief counseling.”

  “That, uh, sounds…”

  “Utterly heartbreaking?” Rose offers. “I know, sweetie.”

  “So there I was, sitting in the chair my parents forced me into. I was a young twenty-something widower and couldn’t even haul my ass into the shower more than once a week. I needed therapy, so my family stepped in.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I mutter. “Both of your losses.”

  Rose holds her hand to her heart and Jack nods, acknowledging my sentiment.

  “It was my third week, her first day. As usual, we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves, explain why we were there. I stood in front of the mic and—”

  “He said, ‘I’m Jack. I’m here because I smell like ass and my family is sick of my shit. My wife’s dead and so am I. That’s all I have.’”

  My heart crumbles at the words, but I listen with rapt attention as Jack picks the story back up.

  “I take a seat and we go through a few more introductions. I’m barely hanging on to reality and can’t pay a lick of attention. Then she”—he nods his head toward Rose—“saunters up there, and all hell breaks loose.”

  “Stop it. It wasn’t that awful.”

  “You snotted all over the podium, and me. It was horrific.”

  “Well if you hadn’t—”

  “Shh! You’ll ruin the best part. Anyway, she’s up there and says, ‘My name is Rose.’” A shit-eating grin breaks out across his face. “And I yell, ‘There was room on that board!’”

  “And I burst into tears.”

  “Snot is flying everywhere and she rushes off the stage and out the door. I jump to my feet and race after her to find her sitting in the middle of the parking lot, sobbing into the quiet night. So, I wrap my arm around her and let her wipe her boogers all over me.”

  Rose huffs. “It wasn’t that bad!”

  “Right, babe. Sure. Once I have her settled down, I ask her if she wants to go out and grab an ice cream with me. She holds my stare and says, ‘There was no way I was sharing that chunk of door with a jackass like you.’”

  “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “You jump,” Jack says.

  “I jump,” Rose finishes.

  They stand there smiling at one another like fools, love shining so bright in their eyes. It’s the most romantic moment I have ever witnessed.

  “I think I’m going to puke,” Zach says.

  “I think I’m going to cry. That is the saddest, sweetest story I have ever heard.”

  Jack slaps his knee. “Enough of the boo-hooin’. Tell me about you, Delia. You’re a student, yes?”

  “I am. I’m in my senior year, journalism major.”

  “And how’s that panning out for you? Any leads for when you graduate?”

  I slide my eyes Zach’s way. “There may be something I’m interested in.”

  “Do you have any siblings?” Jack asks.

  “One, an older brother. He’s a teacher on the other side of town, where I live.”

  “What does he teach?”

  “Middle school math. He loves it.”

  “I used to want to be a teacher,” Zach says.

  “Really?”

  He nods. “I would have had so much fun giving those turds homework.”

  “I bet you’d have all the girls fawning over you with those sexy glasses of yours.” I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes shooting to Jack. “Oh crap. Sorry,” I mutter.

  Jack laughs. “Please, honey, he gets his looks from me, and I ain’t no troll.”

  “Ain’t no troll my ass,” Rose murmurs before turning away and heading back into the kitchen.

  Her husband leaps off the couch, following her and arguing the whole way about how “handsome and sexy” he still is.

  Zach’s grinning from ear to ear, proud of his papa. “And you said I was bad.”

  “You’re way worse than that, trust me. Now, how about leading me through those double doors and out to that patio I’m spying. I want to swing on that loveseat thingy.”

  We make our way outside to do just that, snuggling up next to one another and enjoying the moment.

  “It’s so peaceful out here, so different than where we live.”

  “Would you ever want to live in the middle of nowhere?” Zach asks.

  “Hmm…probably not. I’d miss delivery too much.”

  He chuckles. “Figures.”

  I pinch his nipple and he yelps. “You think you’re so smart, huh?”

  “I know you, is all.”

  “Oh, do you now?” I sit up, eyeing him. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Teal.”

  “Did my room give that away?” He nods. “What’s my favorite food?”

  “All of it.”

  “HA! You’re wrong! It’s brownies.”

  “Is it really?”

  “Yes. Well…most days.”

  “Cheater.”

  I shrug. “You know superficial things about me. Name something else.”

  “You’re a really good kisser.”

  “This is true.”

  “You like to be the one to get the last word in.”

  “Hm. Okay, okay, keep going.”

  “You blush…often. You do this thing when you’re trying to fall asleep where you twitch—scared the shit out of me the first time you did it, by the way. You raise your left eyebrow when you’re concentrating really hard on something, and though you don’t talk about it often, you’re scared of the future, worried you picked the wrong major.”

  I blink a few times, sitting there staring at him like I don’t know who he is.

  But he knows who I am. He knows me, and my heart is soaring right now. I can feel it; it’s awakenin
g, telling me I could love him, that he could be the one.

  Zach leans in. “See, Delia, I know you.”

  I nod, my throat full of emotion. I’m scared that if I try to speak right away, the tears I’m barely holding back will flow.

  And that shit will only freak him out.

  “I know you too, Zach.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh yeah. You have this smile that lights up your face and a whole different one, a naughtier one that lets your dimple poke through.” I give him a suggestive grin. “That one is my favorite. You also like to have the last word—guess we’re screwed there. You tend to tip the corner of your mouth up when you’re amused, and even though you act cocky, you’re secretly worried everyone will judge you for your nerdiness.”

  As predicted, his dimple pops out. “Huh.”

  “Huh.”

  “So you think you know me?”

  “Oh, I know you, Zach. I know you.”

  His lips are on mine. It’s a slow, mild kiss, but sensual all the same.

  Pulling away, he whispers, “I’m glad you do, Delia.”

  The back door swings open and out comes Jack.

  “Hey, go help grab your brother’s things. He brought laundry.”

  Zach sighs at his father’s request and pulls himself off the swing. “Which is so weird because I’m certain we have laundromats down south, right, Delia?”

  “I’ve used one or two myself.”

  He turns to Rose and pretends to crack his neck and knuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll work him over for you.”

  “Just don’t bruise his face—it’s all he has going for him,” she jokes, following him inside and leaving me alone with Jack.

  “This is a beautiful home you have, Jack. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Oh no problem. It’s great to see Zach happy. I always worry he spends too much time alone in that basement of his, especially since his last breakup, but she was no good for him anyway.”

  A shiver races through me at the mention of Zach’s basement and the moment we shared down there.

  “You’ve raised a terrific man—very full of himself, but a great man.”

  “He gets that from Rose. I can’t imagine myself being so vain.” He winks and I laugh.

  Rose comes back outside, a tray of drinks in hand, still wearing those pajamas. I stand to help her but she waves me off.

  “Nonsense,” she says. “You’re a guest. Sit.”

  “I was warned I’d need to change for dinner,” I say. “Something about an eating contest?”

  “Every year since the beginning.”

  “Have you ever polished everything off before?”

  They both nod enthusiastically.

  “Several times. It’s usually when one of the boys brings a guest, but it’s been a few years now. Neither of them have brought anyone home lately, which I guess is a blessing,” Rose says, smiling at me. “They save the important ones for the holidays.”

  My face heats up and I think back to what Zach said about my blushing often. Huh.

  He comes strolling back out on the patio, pointing at the house. “He’ll be out in a minute. He’s using my phone because his is dead and he needs to return a phone call to his agent.”

  “Agent?” I question.

  Jack nods. “Sports agent. Baseball. He’s damn talented.”

  “Your son or the agent?”

  We all laugh.

  “Slu—”

  “You guys talking about me?”

  Holy crap. I recognize him.

  It’s Shep—the Shep.

  My eyes fall to slits as I stare at him, pissed as hell.

  After Zoe’s dreamy date with him, Shep continued to woo her, leaving flowers and notes on her car, sending her the sweetest texts. She was smitten. He was different, she had said.

  Zoe saw him two more times and after their third date, she slept with him.

  And there hasn’t been one peep from him since.

  When she cornered him in the campus parking lot, he said he “didn’t have time for another clingy girlfriend right now.”

  If there’s one thing Zoe isn’t, it’s clingy.

  Her heart has been crushed ever since.

  “We were talking about that big head of yours,” Zach says.

  “Funny coming from you,” I tell him.

  Shep glances my way, finally. “Hey, who’s this?”

  I want to roll my eyes, want to scream, You fucked my best friend and then fucked her over, asshole! But I don’t.

  Instead I stand and extend my hand his way.

  “Delia. We go to college together.”

  His eyes go wide. “Caleb’s girl, right?”

  “Ex girl, but yes. We’ve hung out at a party or two.”

  “And you’re here with”—he points to his brother—“this one?”

  I nod and peek back at Zach, who’s sitting there grinning at me. “You dated Caleb? He was the ex you talked about?”

  “Do you know him?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve met him a few times. I wasn’t expecting your ex to be a big fancy baseball star.”

  I take a seat next to him and lean in close. “I haven’t always had a thing for nerds.”

  “Until me?”

  I grin. “Until you.”

  Nineteen

  “Want to hear a funny story about your brother?”

  We’re up in the bedroom now. I’m changing into my Thanksgiving outfit—my pajamas—while Zach feeds Marshmallow and lets him roam about the room.

  “Oh god. Will this piss me off? What’d the little shit do now?”

  “It involves Zoe.”

  “Let me guess, she made him wait for the sexy times, he wooed her, and she gave in. Then he bailed and said he was ‘too busy for a clingy girlfriend’ or some shit like that.”

  I pause, my shirt thrown over my arms, and stare at him. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  Zach sighs heavily. “That’s his M.O. I’ll have a chat with him. We’ll communicate using our fists.”

  I slide my shirt over my head, thankful I thought to pack a matching pajama set. “Don’t bother. Zoe will be fine. She’s a tough girl.”

  “But what about all the other girls?”

  I grin. “Oh, I’ve witnessed a few of them getting their shots in.”

  Zach chuckles. “Good. But, really, I need to teach him a few manners. It’s all this baseball shit going to his head. He wasn’t like that in high school. He had a steady girlfriend and everything.”

  “Maybe she broke his heart and now he’s taking his revenge on the entire female population?”

  “You might be onto something.”

  “Why does he have a different last name?” I ask.

  “He kept his father’s. He’s the only one in the family who isn’t a Hastings.”

  “That has to be…”

  “Weird? Sometimes. I think he feels like an outcast because of it, but he decided to keep the name, so that’s on him.” He sets a full Marshmallow back in his crate and glances over at me. “Are those really your pajamas?”

  I glance down, seeing nothing wrong with them. “Yes.”

  “And you’re wearing those to dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  He shakes his head, grinning. “My mother is going to love you.”

  “Zoe had them designed for me, hand drew the picture and had them printed last Christmas.”

  “She can draw?”

  I nod. “She’s an art major.”

  “Shut up. I had no idea.”

  “She’s weird and doesn’t like to talk about it. I don’t know why, though. She’s talented as hell.”

  He points to my outfit. “Clearly.”

  “Dinner!” Rose yells up the stairs.

  I eye Zach. “Race ya?”

  “One…two…”

  He bolts out the door.

  “Cheater!” I shout, following closely behind him.

  We rush down the stairs then skid arou
nd the banister and into the first living room where my inner child gets the best of me and I shove Zach.

  He goes toppling over, landing face down on the floor, groaning.

  “Ughhh.”

  He doesn’t move, and I start to feel a little bad for pushing him.

  I backtrack to kick him gently with my foot. “You good?”

  I can’t make out what tumbles from his lips. Bending over, I get close to his still form. “What?”

  He lifts his head. “I said…you’re evil.” Then he grabs my leg out from under me and before I know it, I’m pinned beneath him. “But I’m winning this race.”

  He presses a quick kiss to my lips and takes off, leaving me stunned and still lying on the floor.

  I can hear his chair slide across the floor and I know he’s won.

  Groaning, I make my way to the dining room, where I find Zach patting himself on the back for his performance. Jack’s grinning at us both.

  “Did you need to make a speech for the Academy?”

  I take a seat next to him as Rose pushes through the door holding the turkey.

  “Your pajamas!” she shouts, nearly dropping the platter.

  “Here, babe.” Jack stands, helping Rose with the meal. “You grab the knife?”

  She waves him off. “Who cares about that? She has Ryan Gosling on her PJs. Hey girl! I need them. Buy them for me.”

  Jack sighs and turns to me. “Where’d you buy them, Delia?”

  “My friend Zoe had them made for me, but I’ll talk to her about hooking you up with a set, Rose.”

  She claps her hands together excitedly and Jack mouths a thank you as she bustles back through the door, returning shortly with an electric knife. Jack stands at the head of the table as Rose takes her seat at the other end.

  “Delia, I know this is your first Thanksgiving with us, but we like to go around the table and discuss our goals before we carve the turkey.”

  “Goals?”

  “Yes. Which side—or sides—do we want to finish off first, and how many plates do you intend to eat?”

  “This family is the best,” I say, amazement clear in my voice.

  “Goals, Delia.” Zach snaps his fingers. “Let’s hear them.”

  “I think we should eat the casserole first, less carbs.”

  “And plates? How many are you contributing to this meal?”

  “My goal is…three plates.”

  “What a wimp,” Shep says.