3. Chapter 3
3
“ K nock, knock!” Blake pops her head into the room as I open one eye. I am not ready to face the day.
“What time is it?”
“Noon”
I shoot up in bed. “I slept for thirteen hours?”
“Fourteen, if my math is correct,” Blake says as she opens the curtains.
All the memories I had pushed away to drift off came flooding back. “Shit. I have to call Jett.” He has to be livid. I ran off on him after he proposed and haven't said a word since. I'd be pissed if I were in his shoes. Then again, I wouldn't have proposed to my girlfriend without ever talking to her about it.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Blake sits next to me. “There is nothing so important that it can’t wait a few more hours. Take a shower and get refreshed. I’ll order us some lunch and then we can make a game plan.” Her logic makes sense, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Blake is more of the save it for later type. I'd rather deal with things immediately. That way, they don't linger.
“I probably have a million missed calls,” I mutter, rubbing my aching head.
“You absolutely do. I plugged your phone in this morning and it’s been going off like crazy. But it’s nothing that needs your attention right now. It’ll still be there when you’re refreshed and refueled.” A shower does sound nice. Maybe it'll help clear my head before dealing with the mess I've made.
“Ugh.” I flop back on the bed and cover my face with my pillow. “Why are you always right?"
She stands and puts a hand on her hip. “It’s what I was put on this earth for. Now come on,” she says, pulling me out of bed. “Into the shower you go.” Blake slaps me on the ass and leaves the room.
Sometimes she's a lateral pain in the ass.
I can hear Blake unpacking our lunch in the living room when I exit the bathroom, but decide a quick check of my phone will help put my mind at ease. The shower did wonders, but I need to know what to prepare for.
Seventeen missed calls and six texts.
Ok, this is manageable . To no surprise, sixteen of the calls are from Jett, only three of which have voicemails attached. I’m not sure if that’s good or not. The last missed call, however, is from my mother. She has taken a far back seat to my life since I was in high school and the last time I spoke to her was about a year ago. I shouldn’t be shocked she’s reaching out now, though. She lives for drama. Which is precisely why I won't be returning her call.
I roll my eyes and check my texts. Jett’s conversation has a two lit up next to it. Huh. I expected there to be more from him. Maybe he drank off his frustration and passed out. It's probably for the best. Jett isn't the greatest version of himself when he gets really mad.
Another text is a video attachment from my friend Vanessa. I can only imagine what that must be since she was there yesterday, but I’m not worrying about that right now. I just need the facts.
The next one down shows two texts from Tyson, and it piques my interest. After last night, I’d be lying to say I’m not curious to see what has him texting me for the first time in months. Our relationship has always been easy, fun, and innocently flirtatious on his end.
Oh, what the hell.
Tyson Miller: Sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night Little Bird. Proud of u 4 leavin the asshole tho. And my offer still stands ;)
Tyson Miller: Don’t tell B I said that. She’s gonna yell at me again. Not that I’m scared of her or anything.
I chuckle to myself. Typical Tyson. He knows I’m going to tell his sister, but he’s messing with me anyway. Tyson has always been kind and good to me, even in high school. I was a freshman, and he was a junior. I’d known who he was, seen him around school, or when Blake got in his car. But it wasn’t until I stayed the night at their house the first time that we finally spoke to each other.
My dad kicked me out of the house for the tenth time, but I had forgotten to leave my window open that night, so I couldn’t sneak back in. I texted Blake, and she told me I could stay with her. But after she fell asleep, the stress of my night took over and a panic attack threatened to take over. Going to the back porch for some fresh air, I found Tyson outside smoking a cigarette. When he noticed me, he held it out for me to take.
“ Looks like you need it more than me ,” he had said.
I hesitated before taking it and pulled a long drag. “ Thanks ,” was all I said, and we sat in silence as we shared the rest of it.
Blake is my best friend, but her brother has always been a silent rock of support in my life. One that always knows how to pull me out of my head.
Closing out of that text thread, I move onto the last notification. It’s a text from an unknown number. I tap on it without a second thought.
Unknown: As much as I enjoyed seeing you in my shirt, I’m going to need it back.
What the fuck? Why the hell does Tyson’s roommate have my number? Who does he think he is to have it without asking me for it directly? And screw Tyson for giving it to him without my permission. The nerve these guys have.
I put my phone in my pocket and stalk to the living room, thoroughly pissed off. The smell of Chinese food fills my nose and my stomach growls, reminding me it's been almost twenty-four hours since I last ate.
“Hey,” Blake says. “I got your favorite. And extra Rangoon.” She hands me a container and my chopsticks.
“You’re the best.” I take a bite and speak around my food like the lady I am. “Your brother texted me. Doubling down on his offer and telling me not to tell you because he’s scared of you.”
She rolls her eyes. “He should be scared of me. I’m going to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat for not leaving you alone.” Blake has always had a way with words. There is no filter on her mouth, much like her brother, and it's one of my favorite qualities of hers. Second to the amount of loyalty she has. She's not everyone's cup of tea, but she's my a cup of tea. "I thought we agreed you were going to eat before checking your phone?”
“I never agreed to anything," I say, still stuffing my face with food. "It doesn’t seem too bad. I didn’t listen to any voicemails or read any texts, though, other than the ones from your brother and his roommate.” I put the beef and broccoli down and grab a crab Rangoon.
“ What? His roommate texted you? When? How did he get your number?” She fires off the questions in true Blake fashion. I swear her mind goes a mile a minute.
“Well, I’m assuming it was him, since he told me he wanted his shirt back. It came in sometime last night. Ty probably has something to do with him getting my number.”
“That’s it. I really am going to kill him.” She picks her phone and jabs at the keyboard. I should feel bad for subjecting Tyson to his sister's wrath since he asked me not to tell him, but he should know better than to expect me to keep things from her.
“I also got a video from Vanessa, but I haven’t watched it.”
“She’s annoying. I got it too. Apparently, she decided it was cool to record the whole thing yesterday. The proposal, you running off, Jett’s attitude afterwards. All of it.” Blake gives me a lopsided smile, but it does nothing to lessen the gut punch she just delivered. I figured he'd have an attitude, but he usually keeps it under wraps until he's behind closed doors. Nothing to tarnish his perfect image. I didn't think about the aftermath of his anger when I took off yesterday. The consequences I'd have to face afterwards. “She’s a bitch, don’t let it get to you.” Easier said than done .
I slow my breathing until I feel stable again. No need to have a panic attack until I know what's going on. “I should check what all Jett said.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Blake asks with a mouth full of food. We really are quite the duo.
“No, but I can't keep pushing it off. I have to face him, eventually. May as well know what I’m walking into.” I tuck my feet under me and face my best friend. "Voicemails or texts first?"
“Definitely texts. Let’s ease into it.” She leans closer as I open the conversation, reading out loud as I go.
Jett: Where are you???
Jett: I’m sorry. Please, just let me know you’re ok.
“Well, that seems fairly calm,” Blake notes. But instead of calming me, it sets me on edge. I can understand Jett being upset, I expected it, but being calm makes no sense. That's not like him at all. Where's the temper tantrum?
“I guess we should see what the voicemails say.” I close out the texts and tap on the call log.
“How many are there?”
“Sixteen missed calls, but only three voicemails”
“Oh… that’s… alright.” It’s rare that Blake is speechless. I hate this already. But the only way out is through, so I hit play, and we listen together.
“Elizabeth, what the hell? Where’d you go? You just ran off without saying anything. Call me back.”
“I called your mother. But apparently you haven’t spoken to her either. I’m at a loss here. You won’t answer me. What else am I supposed to do? Why are you hiding? This isn’t right, Elizabeth. We need to speak.”
“Fucking hell, Elizabeth Jewel. I’m tired of this bullshit. You need to tell me where you are. Who do you think you are to run away from ME, and then refuse to speak to me like a grown adult? You’re a child. I can’t believe I considered spending my life with you. I offer you the world and this is how you repay me? Quit being a little bitch. This is the last time I’m reaching out. I won’t let you make an ass out of me. Call me back. It’s for your own good.”
I stare at my phone, processing the spew of hatred in Jett’s voice. He has his own flaws. He gets mad easily, but he’s never sounded so evil. Although I probably deserve it since I left him hanging in the middle of family and friends. That had to be embarrassing. Which is something Jett Dixon does not handle well. But now I'm wondering if it unlocked some side of him I didn't know existed. I should have seen it. I'd like to think I have a radar for those kinds of people. Growing up with it makes you keen on that sort of thing. Jett hid it well, though. Either that or my radar is off.
“Fuck that!” Blake shouts. “Fuck him, Libby, and I don’t mean in the fun way.”
Once again, I agree with her. Nothing good can come from talking to someone who is that mad. I’ve been there, done that, and have no desire to do it again. But that doesn't stop the panic that is slowly building in my chest, making it harder to breathe “I need some fresh air.”