39. Tatum
39
TATUM
I really wish Rory wrote papers faster. Or at the least, that she would’ve left Hades to help fill the quiet of the apartment. Instead, I have nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.
It makes me feel like I’m insane.
But this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? For Pax to drop me off so I could have some time to wrap my head around last night and all it could mean if I let it?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab a pen and the worn black notebook from my laptop case, needing the release it brings more than my next breath. The tip of my pen hovers above the page as I search for something to say. Something to flesh out my feelings instead of letting them fester inside of me like I usually do until it becomes too much.
And after last night? It’s a bit too much.
Hey, Arch.
It’s been awhile. I’d ask how you are, but you’re dead, so…
I sniff and force myself to continue.
Things are weird here. I moved in with Rory. She’s doing really well. Better than me, actually. Not that it’s a surprise. Mav and Lia are getting married. Strangely, I think you’d be happy for them.
I suck my lips between my teeth.
I want to be happy for them, too.
“ Keep going,” I whisper to the empty room, no matter how petrifying it feels. “Keep. Going.”
There’s this guy… It feels weird telling you about him. But it also feels weird admitting that it feels weird telling you about him, so…I’m not sure what it says about me, but it is what it is.
Just write it, Tatum!
Last night we hooked up.
I stare at the five simple words, watching as they blur together before forcing myself to continue.
We’ve hooked up before last night, but last night felt different. More intimate, I guess. Less like fucking and more like, real, or whatever.
I hesitate, and blow out a slow breath.
I like him, Arch. And it’s weird liking someone who isn’t you, even after all these years. But it doesn’t feel wrong, either. That’s the strangest part about it. And then I start to wonder if I’m wasting way too much time analyzing my feelings over a potential relationship with someone that is still so new in the big scheme of things.
I pause again, tapping my pen against the edge of the page until a little bundle of dots appears as my anxiety claws at me. I want to close the journal. I want to close it and hide it and never open it again, but the pull to keep going, to keep writing and to keep feeling is too strong. Too consuming.
He did something really thoughtful last night. Honestly, it had you written all over it. You were always thoughtful. You were always good at paying attention to the little details no one else would notice.
He does it, too.
Pays attention. Takes note. Cares.
He cares, Arch.
He cares about me. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. But what’s scary is how I’m starting to care about him, too. Scratch that, I think I’ve cared about him for a while now, and I haven’t known how to handle it. How to wrap my head around it. How to protect myself and my feelings while putting my heart out there after everything that’s happened.
It’s scary, Arch. It’s really scary.
I lick my lips and stare at the last paragraph.
Anyway, I guess that’s it. I’m scared. And I care about him. And I wish you were here.
Miss you.
-Tatum
As I rinse the glass under the faucet, the front door opens, revealing an exhausted Rory. It’s been a long day. The sun is already setting, and I’ve been contemplating cutting bangs just to pass the time.
“Hey,” I call.
She sets her laptop on the kitchen counter, unclips Hades’ leash from his collar, and hangs it on the hook by the front door. “Look at you doing the dishes.”
“Hey, I know how to clean,” I argue.
Unconvinced, she folds her arms. “You know I’ll only do them again once you’re finished.”
With a soft snort, I rinse the bubbles from my hands and grab the dish towel. “And here I am trying to be helpful.”
“Nah, you’re trying to stay busy so you don’t overthink shit,” she argues.
Man, she knows me too well.
“Not enough houses to clean?”
“Already finished the ones I had scheduled,” I mumble, dipping the sponge into the warm water before scrubbing an especially stubborn stain.
Rounding the edge of the kitchen, she approaches the sink and hipchecks me out of the way so she can get to work cleaning the last few glasses and bowls hidden in the soapy water.
“Soooo…” She drags the word out and starts scrubbing my cereal bowl with a new sponge from beneath the sink. “How was last night?”
I rest my hip on the edge of the counter, my gaze narrowing. “Fiiiine,” I mimic, stealing her inflection.
“And?” she prods.
“And what?” I laugh. “I already told you about everything this morning, remember?”
“There’s no way a two minute texting conversation held all the details of an entire night.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not sure there’s much more to catch you up on,” I lie.
“Mm-hmm. Sure. Does this mean Pax found your weak spot?”
“He found my G-spot,” I quip.
Flicking some bubbles at me, she groans. “Gross.”
“I believe the word you’re searching for is jealous.”
She smirks and starts cleaning again. “That, too. But seriously, are you guys good?”
“I think so.”
“You thinking about running again?” she prods, giving me the side-eye.
I throw my hands in the air and groan, “Why does everyone think I’m going to run again?”
“That’s not a no,” she points out. “And what do you mean everyone?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I grumble, “Let’s just say, you’re not the only person to ask me that question in the last twenty-four hours.”
Her eyes bulge. “He asked if you’re planning to run?”
I avoid her gaze, choosing to pick at my cuticles instead. “Yup.”
“And what did you say?”
“Well, the first time he asked, I said, I don’t know, and the second time, I pretty much said, I wouldn’t, so…”
“And what did he say?” she pushes.
I drop my hand and look up at her. “He said, he might have to invest in some good running shoes because he isn’t letting me get away again.”
Her jaw drops. “Okay, swoon.”
My thoughts exactly.
Anxious for a subject change, I ask, “So, did you finish your paper?”
“Subtle,” she notes with a knowing glint in her eyes while rinsing the bowl in the trickling water and setting it on the drying rack. “And yes, by some miracle, I did finish my paper. Can I tell you how excited I am to actually graduate and be done with school?”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” I answer. “What do you say we celebrate? Maybe have a girls’ night?”
“What about Pax?” she asks.
“What about him?”
“You don’t have plans?”
He hasn’t texted. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t. He told me he was meeting one of Judge’s nephews to work out and hit each other, so it’s not like he’d have access to his phone or whatever. Then again, it’s been a few hours. How long does a sparring session usually last? And does it even matter? I’m the one who said I needed a little space. Me. Not Pax. So why does his lack of reaching out make me feel like I kind of want to vomit? I paste on a fake smile and prop my hand on my hip. “I do have plans.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yup. You, me, and Ben and Jerry are in for an epic night.”
It’s one of the few traditions we’ve fully embraced from our families. Our addiction to ice cream and movie nights. Honestly, it makes me miss them. My parents. My aunts and uncles. Even Ophelia. We grew up spending every Friday evening going to the grocery store with our mom and dad to pick out our very own pint of ice cream. After, we’d pile onto the couch, pints and spoons in hand, then vote on what movie to watch. The memory is melancholy at best. I need to call her. And soon.
“Have you called and congratulated Lia yet?” Rory prods, as if the mention of Ben & Jerry’s took her down the same memory lane it did with me.
I shake my head. “Not yet. How ‘bout you and Mav?”
“Yeah, actually. That man is so in love with your sister it’s not even funny.”
I sober even more. “I know he is.”
“It’ll be weird, though.” She hesitates, her gaze glued to the drying dishes on the counter, though I know she’s mentally far away. “Not having Arch as the best man.”
She’s right. It will be.
Willing the pressure behind my eyes to go away, I dig my fingernails into my palms. “Who’d he ask instead?”
“Reeves,” Rory answers. “Not surprising, though he did confirm all the guys will be there, so…”
“I assume that includes Jax?”
“Yup.”
She looks like she’s about to puke, and it makes me want to hug her.
“Did you ever tell Mav what happened?” I ask.
She shivers. “Nope, but all the girls know, and there’s no way Lia didn’t pass the info along at some point over the years, so I doubt he’s completely in the dark.”
True. And I can’t even fault him for it. Not this time.
“Good point,” I concede.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Mav also asked me to pass a message along to you.”
My nose wrinkles. “What kind of message?”
Lifting her hands in air quotes, she drops her voice low, mimicking her older brother. “Tell Tate to call Opie. She misses her.”
Puffing out my cheeks, I give in and nod slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I know you will. And on that note, I’m going to clean up, then we can go to the store and pick up ice cream.”
“Deal.”
An empty pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream sits next to my phone on the nightstand as Rory and I watch a dating show instead of Gilmore Girls . It’s super stupid and way over-dramatized, but after a few episodes, we can’t help but cheer and boo every couple on the island. When my phone rings, I push the empty pint aside and grab it from the table. It’s my dad.
Confused, I answer it.
“Is it Sunday?” I ask.
“Figured this was worth breaking our rule,” my dad mutters. “Since when is my daughter famous?”
“Famous?” I laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“Blake,” my dad calls to my mom.
“I’ll send it right now,” my mom answers through the cell.
“Send what?” I ask.
Reaching for the remote, Rory pauses our show before giving me her full attention. I lift a shoulder, then push the speaker button, so we can both hear the conversation. “Rory’s here, too,” I announce.
“Hey, Squeaks!” my dad calls. “Tell me about this guy, Pax.”
“Pax?” she squeaks. Her eyes bulge, and she gives me a look that screams, what do you want me to say?
“How do you know about Pax?” I interrupt, because, uh, what the hell?
“Check your text, babe,” my mom interjects.
Opening the app, I click on the link, barely scanning the headline before gasping. “Are you kidding me?”
Paxton Six Has Been a Dirty, Dirty boy. Luckily, His Maid Seems More Than Willing to Offer Her Services—In Public! Oh, My!
IndieCent Vows guitarist, Paxton Six, seems to be enjoying his time off in small town, Harden Heights and was recently seen heating things up on the beach with his latest fling. Sources say the woman in the photo is his maid, though she’ll be leaving the beach dirtier than she left it if the photo is anything to go by. The question is, is this true love or is the penniless maid only spending her time with Paxton Six for his money and connections to the rock band, IndieCent Vows? Seems only time will tell.
Curious, Rory darts to my bed and collapses onto it. As she reads the article over my shoulder, a gasp slips out of her. “No freaking way.”
“So?” my mom prods. “You okay?”
It’s a good question, but I’m so blindsided by the whole thing, I don’t even know what to say. “I mean…yes?” I laugh, inspecting the article all over again. “What the hell is this?”
“This is what happens when the paparazzi sniff out a famous person’s new relationship,” she answers. “Aunt Mia went through the same thing when she started dating your Uncle Henry.”
“Yeah, but I’m not even officially dating Pax, yet.” With a scoff, I scan a few more lines of the article. “Just offering my services, apparently.”
Rory’s elbow connects with my ribs, and I jerk away from her, mouthing, “What the hell?”
“Tatum’s downplaying her feelings,” Rory announces to my family. “You should’ve seen what he did for your daughter last night. Pax is the sweetest guy ever and treats Tate like gold.”
With wide eyes, I scold, “Rore!”
“What? You don’t want to fill your parents in on what isn’t in the article? Or should we let them focus on how good he is in bed, er, beach ?”
Fighting the urge to smack my best friend, I examine the photograph attached to the article again, and damn. Not going to lie. This probably isn’t a photo any parent should have to see, let alone the world. The lens on the camera is something else, and even though the image blurs out the intimate bits, it doesn’t take a genius to see I’m clearly enjoying being railed on the beach last night. My head is thrown back. My mouth is open wide. And my legs are wrapped around Paxton’s waist while his pants are wrapped around his ankles.
Yup. If that isn’t the definition of scandalous, I don’t know what is.
“Rory’s right. Pretty sure we didn’t need to see that,” my dad grunts, and I swear I can hear the embarrassment in his voice.
Biting back my amusement, I point out, “Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle this is the only article written about me so far.”
My mom chuckles in the background, and it makes me love her even more.
“You’re not helping, Blake,” my dad grumbles.
“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” she argues, standing up for me in a way that makes me want to crawl through my cell and hug her.
“Right?” I interject. “How did you even find this article?”
“Your sister sent it to us,” my mom answers. “Asked us to check in with you to see if you’re okay.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, my humor dissipates.
Of course, she did.
“How…kind of her,” I mumble, unsure what else I’m supposed to say.
“She loves you,” my dad returns as if I need the reminder. “So, do I at least get to meet him?”
Him. As in Pax. Right.
Forehead wrinkling, I mutter, “I don’t, uh?—”
Another call coming through cuts me off, and I peek at the screen, surprised to find Paxton’s name flashing back at me. “Hey, someone’s calling,” I announce. “I have to go, but I’ll call you later.”
Before I have a chance to end the call, my dad adds, “If you need us to do anything or if you need money or?—”
“Seriously?” I screech. “I’m not dating Pax for his money!”
“We know, baby,” my mom rushes out. “Your dad just meant that if you want to quit your job so you’re not dating your boss anymore, we can help until you find something else.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s very sweet—and not subtle at all, by the way—but I appreciate the offer. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
“Tell Pax we can’t wait to meet him,” my mom adds.
I end the call and answer Paxton’s. “Hello?”
“So, you’re dating me for my money, huh?” Pax’s silky voice greets me.
Rory fans herself, falling back onto my bed, shamelessly swooning over the guy as I take my phone off speaker in hopes of achieving an ounce of privacy now that my conversation with my parents is over.
Bringing the phone to my ear, I say, “I’m sorry, who is this?"
"This is the guy you're boning for his money."
My mouth lifts. "Which one?"
"Very funny, Birthday Girl. Did you see the article?"
"Maybe."
"You pissed?"
I shift on the bed, pressing my back to the headboard as I pull my knees to my chest. "Why would I be pissed? Because I look like a gold digger?"
“Yeah.”
My lips bunch on one side while I ignore Rory’s penetrating gaze. Am I pissed? Not really. But I’m used to dealing with shitty people. Dying your blonde hair black, painting your nails black, and doing your makeup darker than your soul in high school is a pretty solid way to star in the rumor mill. Add in a handful of one-night stands, picking up random jobs while traveling to pay for said travel, and quitting at the drop of a hat because of a flight change or a spur of the moment decision is a great way to get on a few people’s shit lists. But being accused of sleeping with someone for their money? That’s new. I don’t know how I feel about it. “Do you think I’m a gold digger?” I ask.
“I think you could get a lot more from me than my money.”
My heart skips a beat, and I look down at my lap, trying to hide my smile. “Does that scare you? Knowing I hold all the cards?”
“Nah, I didn’t say that. Although…”
A knock hits my door, and Hades lifts his head from Rory’s bed. Unfolding herself from mine, Rory walks toward the door and peeks through the peephole as Hades jumps down, letting out a booming bark that shakes the pictures on the walls.
“Wait, you have a dog?” Paxton asks through my cell.
“It’s Rory’s,” I return as Rory pauses to address the monster in the room.
“Hades, no bark,” she scolds. “Everything’s fine.” Reaching down, she scratches his ear, and the fight seeps from his rigid posture with the simple touch before his furry butt hits the ground at her feet. Satisfied he won’t attack whoever’s on the opposite side, Rory reaches for the door handle, revealing a devilishly attractive Paxton on the opposite side.
Hades growls up at him, and Paxton’s eyes bulge. “You have a big dog.”
“He’s nothing but a big ol’ sweetheart,” Rory tells him.
“Don’t listen to her,” I call. “He hates everyone but Rory, including me, and I’ve known him since he was a puppy.” Realizing I’m still pressing my phone to my ear, I hang up our call so we can talk face-to-face. “Also, what are you doing here?”
Pax opens his mouth to answer when a low growl cuts him off.
“Aaaand, we’re gonna go hide so Paxton keeps his nether regions,” Rory announces.
Not bothering to hide his amusement, Pax counters, “I thought you said he’s a big ol’ sweetheart?”
“Best not to test it.” She forces a smile, then loops her fingers beneath Hades’ collar. “Come on, big boy.” Hades follows as she darts down the short hall to the bathroom before locking the door behind them.
Which means I’m all alone. With Pax. In my safe space. After I had intimate photos leaked on the internet all because of him.
Clearing my throat, I repeat, “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
He lifts his hand, showcasing a simple black card between his two fingers. “Giving you all the cards.”
Confused, I stand from my bed and stride closer to him. “Pax, I was kidding.”
“Yeah?” He raises a shoulder. “Well, I’m not.”
I could tell him to leave. I could yell at him for being the cause of said photos being leaked, then slam the door in his face. There’s only one problem. I really don’t want to. Not after the party. Not after waking up in his bed after he took care of me. Not after the beach and the borrowed clothes and the ride to Grinds and the concert and this morning. So much is changing, it’s hard to keep up, but the scary part? I want to try.
I like Pax. I like him a lot. And even though it’s terrifying, I can’t convince myself to keep fighting it. Honestly, it’s exhausting, and I’m tired. Tired of causing friction with every single thing in my life.
“I thought you were sparring?” I murmur.
“I was.” His shoulder hits the doorjamb with a quiet thump as he leans against it. “And now, I’m here to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For the paparazzi being a bitch.”
I glance at the card still pinned between his fingers while attempting to catch up to the one-eighty my night just took. But seriously. Is he offering me his credit card? Why? And so, what? We got caught hooking up on the beach, someone decided to snap a few photos of it, and basically called me a money-hungry slut. Okay, that part wasn’t so great, but still. It doesn’t explain why Pax is on my doorstep or why he’s offering me his money when I’ve never asked for it.
“Talk to me, Birthday Girl,” he prods.
I tear my attention from the card pinched between his fingers, only to find Paxton observing me. Is he…nervous? And if he is, is it because of the article, or is it because he’s afraid I can be bought off? Honestly, the latter makes me feel…dirty. Dirtier than the article ever could. Especially after last night and this morning. I thought…I thought he liked me. Saw me. Understood who I am beneath all the bitchiness and the snark. The possibility I was wrong? It kind of hurts.
Keeping the realization on lockdown, I announce, “I’m aware the paparazzi are a bitch.”
“They are,” he agrees.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” My fingers dig into the edge of the door as I fight the urge to slam it in his face. “Honestly, I’m trying really hard not to be offended that you think buying me off will make me forgive you for something not in your control.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement as he slowly shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m offering you the card.”
“So, why are you offering it?” I demand.
His stupid smile threatens to cut through my bravado, but I hold strong.
“I’m being serious,” I push.
“I know you are.”
“So why are you smiling?” I snap.
“Because you’re cute when your feathers are ruffled.” His smile stretches wider. “And I’m offering you the card because I know how much you like to piss people off.”
My forehead wrinkles as I grip the edge of the door, trying to piece together what he’s throwing down, but I’m coming up empty. How much I like to piss people off? What does that have to do with anything? They wrote an article making me look bad. That’s that.
Isn’t it?
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying you should take the power back. Go fucking wild. Give them something to talk about.” He dips forward, his lips hovering over mine. “I dare you.”