Let's Get Textual

by Teagan Hunter

  “My ass is fine, thank you. What are you doing here, Zoe? Is Delia with you?”

  “What? No!” I can hear the panic in her voice. “Why would she be here?”

  “Um…because we’re kind of dating?” Zach sounds so confused right now. “Or we were. We’re…whatever it is we are now.”

  See? There’s still hope.

  “Oh,” Zoe says. “Well, no. She isn’t here. I am here to talk to you about her though.”

  “What about?”

  “How crazy she is, absolutely batshit.”

  I could strangle her.

  Backing up, I take a running jump, and I must be coasting on pure adrenaline because I manage to get a grip on the window sill on the second try.

  An unfamiliar head pokes out the window and I fall flat on my ass, which knocks the wind right out of me.

  “Can I help you?” His voice is gruff, but he doesn’t sound angry.

  Robbie—there’s no question about it. His caramel skin is the exact same tone as his son’s, who I’ve seen dozens of pictures of by now. He’s built—like, can barely fit through the window kind of built—and I wonder for a moment if he used to play football.

  Squinting down at me, I can tell he recognizes who I am too. “Hey, wait—you’re Delia, aren’t you?”

  I nod. “That would be me.”

  “Can I ask what the hell it is you’re doing?”

  “Stealing Marshmallow and leaving a ransom note.”

  He grins, and I know he understands. “You’re trouble.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I hate to say it, but you have the wrong room.”

  “No shit.”

  He doesn’t move for a moment, only stands there studying me.

  “You know what? Screw it,” he says. “Get up here. I’ll sneak off and grab Marshy while you leave the note.”

  I stand and he reaches out to grab my hands, effortlessly pulling me up and through the window.

  “That was so much easier than what I was doing,” I whisper. “I think I should start working out a bit more. I’ll need muscles like yours for the next house I break into.”

  He laughs quietly and grabs a notebook and pen off his desk. “I’ll be right back.”

  I quickly scribble something down for Robbie to leave in Marshmallow’s room.

  * * *

  Dear Zach,

  I’ve run away. I’m off to live with She Who Has A Great Ass. Good luck getting me back.

  Love,

  1/3 of the S’mores brothers

  * * *

  Satisfied with my note, I fold it and draw his name in big, bold letters.

  “Here. I packed him a quick bag too.”

  Marshmallow makes a noise as Robbie hands him over to me and I snuggle him. “I missed you, little buddy.”

  “Even he’s been a mopey little shit since you two stopped talking.”

  “He’s been mopey?” I ask Robbie.

  He doesn’t have to ask; he knows who I’m referring to.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe—even snapped at a client. Whatever happened wasn’t pretty, and it’s done a number on him.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  Robbie shakes his head. “Not a word.”

  “Oh,” I say quietly.

  “I’m only helping you right now because I think you might be the only one who can fix my man, even though you were the one who broke him.”

  “The whole thing was a huge misunderstanding.”

  Robbie waves me off. “Don’t bother explaining to me. Explain it to him.”

  “I will.” I point to Marshmallow, who’s already falling asleep in my arm. “That’s what he’s for.”

  “…see, I told you, she’s crazy! Gosh, I could really go for a cake right now,” Zoe practically shouts.

  “That’s my cue,” I say to Robbie.

  “Get out of here. I’ll keep him distracted while you leave.”

  I climb back through the window, careful not to jostle Marshmallow around too much.

  Once I’m clear of the ledge, I glance back.

  “Hey, Robbie?” I call.

  He pops his head back out. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Fix this, okay?”

  “I’m trying to.”

  Out of nowhere, a police cruiser comes barreling down the street, screeching to a halt right in front of Zach’s house. The red and blue lights reflect off the house, off me. I flatten myself against the wall and glance up to Robbie, my panic level at an all-time high.

  “What the shit is happening?”

  He’s trying hard not to laugh. “I think you tripped the alarm trying to break in.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  “Go. I’ll handle it.”

  “Zoe’s my ride!”

  “I’ll make sure she meets you at your rendezvous point.”

  “Make sure to say you could go for a cake. That’s our code phrase.”

  “Cake? Really?”

  “What? I was hungry when I came up with it.”

  He laughs. “Go.”

  I nod and take off running through strangers’ back yards. When I finally feel like I’m in the clear, I stop to catch my breath and walk the rest of the way, the goat in my arms grinning the entire time.

  It’s another ten minutes before Zoe finally pulls to a stop in front of me.

  I hastily climb into the car and she peels away.

  “Well?”

  “You tripped the alarm.”

  “Aren’t they supposed to call about those kinds of things?”

  “They did, but I was trying to keep Zach busy and it turns out your boy is super polite and won’t answer his incessantly buzzing cell phone while someone is talking to him.”

  I laugh. “Crap.”

  “Yeah, but turns out Robbie is really nice. He kept doing this weird thing with his nose, like this.” She flicks at her nose twice with her thumb. “I thought he just had issues until he finally said he could go for a cake and nodded toward the door like he had a tic in his neck. By the way, that man is fine.”

  “Robbie?” She nods. “Yeah, he’s not bad on the eyes.”

  “Not bad!” she screeches. “He’s gorgeous!”

  I can see it in her eyes—Robbie’s just become prey to her.

  “He has a son.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders deflate, and I know Robbie is now a lost cause to her. “Anyway, Zach didn’t suspect a thing. How did Robbie find you?”

  “I tried climbing into the wrong room.”

  “Shut up.” She titters. “Only you.”

  I run my hands through a sleeping Marshmallow’s fluff.

  “But you got your goat,” she says.

  “I got my goat.”

  Twenty-Four

  Much to my surprise, Zach doesn’t come by the night of the goat heist…or the next day.

  I’m starting to worry about three things.

  One, he doesn’t care that I stole Marshmallow.

  Two, he doesn’t care about me anymore.

  Three, my building manager discovering that I’m harboring a stolen animal.

  My patience and heart are both wearing thin. I can’t keep up the façade any longer.

  I miss him like a writer misses their pen. Every day I reach for my phone to text him something funny or random, and every day I remember I can’t.

  So instead I text myself, hoping one day I can show him all the funny things I thought of while he wasn’t around to appreciate them.

  One day…

  I let out a heavy sigh.

  “Stop doing that,” Zoe complains.

  “What?”

  “Sighing. It’s annoying.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m in worry mode, and I sigh a lot when I’m at this point.”

  “I know, and it’s annoying, so stop it. He’ll come for him. I know he will.”

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “Just him?”

  She eyes me. “He’ll come for you
too. I have a feeling.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and I stand so quickly that I almost step on Marshmallow, who’s lying at my feet.

  I race over there and then straight back.

  “Do you think it’s him?” I whisper to Zoe.

  “You won’t know until you answer the door.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Do you want me to open it?”

  I shake my head. “No, no. I can do this.” I smooth out my shirt and blow out a breath. “I can do this. I can open the door and say hello and explain. I can do this.”

  “Then fucking do it!”

  “Shh!”

  As calmly as I can, I march to the door and pull it open, a smile plastered on my face.

  I’m disappointed by what I find on the other side.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Hi ma’am. Is this the”—he checks the receipt—“Devlin residence?”

  “Yes, but we didn’t order anything.”

  “It’s already been paid for.”

  “Okay…”

  “And I’ve already been paid to deliver it, so…”

  I glance to Zoe.

  She holds her hands out. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Does it say who it’s from?”

  The delivery driver looks nervous for a moment before finally shaking his head.

  “So what you’re saying is yes, but you were paid handsomely to keep that info private?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

  “What about nonverbally?”

  “I was given specific instructions not to relay information in any way. The…donor said you’d try to ‘woo’ the information out of me and to stay strong.” He uses air quotes and everything. I adore this kid.

  “Fine. You win. Hand over the pizza.”

  Once he leaves, I take it inside and place it on the coffee table. Taking a seat on the couch, I sit there watching it like it’s a ticking time bomb.

  “It’s not going to bite you,” Zoe eventually says.

  “I know, but what is it?”

  “Pizza.”

  “Yes, but what does it mean? It is from Zach…right?”

  She shrugs. “I’m assuming so.”

  “So it’s safe to eat?”

  “We just had dinner!”

  I scowl at her. “It’s pizza. You don’t turn down pizza—especially free pizza!”

  “Fine. Then eat it. I’m headed to bed.”

  She goes to her bedroom, and I don’t move until I hear the door click shut.

  Is this a peace offering? A goodbye gift? What the hell does it mean?

  Finally, after what feels like hours, I open it…and burst into laughter.

  Artfully arranged, the pepperonis spell out GAME ON.

  And I know exactly what Zach is saying to me.

  I stare up at the discreet building, watching and waiting.

  Like the first time I came here, there’s nothing special about it. It’s plain and blends in with every other building on the street.

  In fact, it’s like it doesn’t exist, like the dark red door leads to nowhere.

  But I know it doesn’t.

  I know it leads to someplace magical where you can forget all your troubles and just…be.

  In five, four, three, two, one…

  The sign illuminates.

  Level Up is officially open to the night crew, and tonight, I’m part of it.

  I push open my car door and approach the building. My palms are sweating and with the way I’m perspiring, I’m finding it difficult to believe it’s December.

  Hand on the door, I pause.

  This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting days for.

  He’s going to be behind that door, and he’ll either forgive me or forget me.

  I’m hoping for the former, and refuse to accept anything else.

  Taking a deep breath, I push it open and step into the noise.

  “Welcome to Level Up!” the now familiar barista calls from behind the counter. “Your usual?”

  I nod, and he busies himself making my drink.

  My eyes fall to the Mr. and Mrs. Pac-Man table we occupied the first time we came here.

  There he sits, eyes on me.

  I can’t breathe. My throat goes dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

  In the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been that long since I last laid eyes on him, but I swear, my body awakens for the first time in too long as his green eyes rake over me.

  When he finally meets my gaze, his signature dimples appear, and my knees threaten to cave on me.

  “Order up for Delia!”

  Pulling myself from his stare, I grab my drink and slide the barista his money.

  “Keep the change.” I turn around and am surprised to find the table empty.

  I scan the room, and he’s not here. Did I dream him?

  Defeat cascades over me. My shoulders slump inward and I can feel the tears coming on.

  Home. I need to go home.

  As I’m about to turn, I feel it.

  It’s him.

  “I’ll play you for a kiss.”

  A tingle runs straight down my spine and the shiver it leaves behind is visible.

  “I don’t think this is a good place for that.”

  “No? And why is that, Delia?”

  “Because I’m certain once I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”

  He grabs my elbow and spins me around. We’re standing so close that I have to arch my head back to meet his eyes.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I say breathlessly.

  “I see you received my message.”

  “And I see you received mine.”

  “I’d like my goat back, Delia.”

  “I’d like to say I’m sorry.”

  He releases me and takes a step back. “Let’s play for answers, shall we?”

  I don’t verbally answer him. Instead I make my way to the skee-ball wall and set us up for two games. We each grab a ball and make our first play.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you more,” I tell him.

  “Why did you jump to the conclusion that it was me who sent the photo?”

  “On the screen, the sender was ‘Z’.”

  “I can see why that would send you into a tailspin, but you should have known better, Delia. I’d never do that to you. I’d never do that to anyone.”

  “I know.”

  We throw another ball. He scores a hundred points. Ass.

  “Do you…” I don’t know how to phrase this, but I need to get it out there. “Do you know who sent the photo?”

  “It’s being taken care of.”

  I drop my ball and give him my full attention. “What does that mean, Zach?”

  “It means my father had to pull me off my brother because I wasn’t capable of pulling my own hands from his throat. It means he’s done with baseball for the season. It means he’s in an enormous amount of fucking trouble, Delia.”

  I can’t help it—I start crying.

  He gathers me into his arms and the weight I’ve been carrying around slips away. I missed this. I missed being close to him, touching him.

  I feel horrible for what he’s experienced with his brother because of this, and I hate to think about how his relationship with him will change.

  “Who told you?” I ask through the tears.

  “Caleb. I like that guy. Sucks for him that I’m never letting you go.”

  I laugh. “I’d choose you any day.”

  “Because of my ass?”

  “Because of your ass.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, placing a kiss on top of my head.

  “You’re sorry?” I pull away and peek up at him. “For what?”

  “For not deleting the picture ASAP. I should have. You told me to delete it and I shouldn’t have waited a second longer to do so. This is all my fault.”

  “No,” I say with determination. “No fucking way.
This is your brother’s fault. He’s the one who immaturely sent out that picture of me. This is my fault for blaming you, but none of this is on you.”

  He hangs his head. “I can’t accept that.”

  “Well too damn bad. You’re going to have to.”

  “You don’t get to boss me around, Delia.”

  I raise a brow in a challenge. “Watch me.”

  He laughs, and I can’t believe how wonderful the sound is to my ears.

  Resting his forehead against mine, he says, “I missed you, you know.”

  “I missed you like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “But Delia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You have to promise me that if anything—and I mean anything—happens where you’re worried I’ve betrayed you, where you’re worried I’m not being the person you think I am, you need to confront me. Don’t throw out accusations and fly off the handle. Talk to me. We’ll work through it. Besides, chances are you’re just being so crazy again.”

  Without having to ask, I know he’s referring to Zoe’s tirade distraction method during our goat retrieval mission.

  “That damn Zoe.”

  He chuckles and steps toward me. “I’m still going to want my goat back, by the way.”

  “We’ll see, Zachary.”

  “But do you promise, Delia? Do you promise to trust me and talk to me? Don’t shut me out and push me away because you think you’re right about something.”

  “One, I am always right, that’s just a fact.” He shakes his head. “Two…yes, I promise. I know I’ve already said it, but I am so, so sorry I didn’t come to you about it…but you try seeing your boobs plastered across a stranger’s cell phone and see how you feel.”

  “I have great boobs, so I wouldn’t be too offended by it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ass.”

  “That’s great too.”

  “Stop it.”

  He reaches out and touches my bare skin for the first time in over a week, his fingers brushing over my cheek. My breath catches in my throat and I’m frozen to the spot.

  His eyes have turned serious, and I’m nervous to hear what he’ll say next.

  “I know you said I don’t need to say it, but I do. I’m sorry this happened to you, Delia. I’m sorry you were so violated, and I’m really fucking sorry it was by my brother. I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for this. My parents are threatening to rip him out of school entirely. It’s been a wreck of a few days.”