Twenty-two
Heath
Did I fuck up?
I was in my happy place, giving Teagan the time of her fucking life, then Jeremy came in and she went right back to hating me. The only thing I did wrong was not crawl half naked through her window. Maybe Jeremy is the one who fucked up. He definitely fucked it up for me.
After I left her apartment, my dick felt bruised and my balls were empty as hell, but I still had a semi in the shower when I got home. It’s impossible to watch her unravel for me and not spend the rest of my time wanting to do it again.
No. I need to focus.
I put another fork of my microwave meal into my mouth, pretending it’s takeout from the hotel restaurant up the street. Sitting cross-legged on the floor by my coffee table, I stare at my laptop screen. Just a few minutes with Teagan’s spreadsheet and I know how much I’ll be able to swing for the rest of the month. She might be a little batty, but no one can say she isn’t smart as hell.
This budget situation will not work out well for me, especially during the summer when the guys want to act like high rollers everywhere we go. I remember the last time we went ham at the club. The receipt in my pocket the next morning was something around eight grand. I doubt Vegas will be any different. At least I have my back pay and some savings in my personal account, and my next paycheck will add to it. This will teach me how not to blow eight grand in the meantime, seeing as I won’t be able to afford a shitty microwave meal when we get back if I do.
As I close the spreadsheet tab, my calendar stays up. The next thing on it is my extra shift on Friday, but nothing afterward.
I stare at it, hoping I missed something from Teagan or accidentally deleted her invite. But there’s nothing. “Oh no. Please, no.”
I whip out my phone and start typing a message, but stop myself. No phrasing other than Are we not fucking this weekend? comes to my mind, so I delete the text and call her instead.
It rings a few times while I hold my breath. Finally, she answers. “Why are you calling me?”
Lovely. “I don’t have a calendar invite from you. Are we not meeting up tonight?”
“Wow, you actually looked at your calendar?”
“Look at me. I’m learning. Are we fucking or not?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I’ve been wrapped up in this shit with Jeremy.”
“Is he going to snitch?”
“Not if I give in to his demands.”
“We’re negotiating with terrorists now?” I say with a chuckle.
“He’s moving in with Chet. And now he doesn’t want to go to any of Ryan’s events.”
“Breaking a lease and bailing on you? I’m surprised your head hasn’t popped off.”
“If you fuck anything else up for me, it might.”
“Well . . . I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
There’s a short pause, then the call ends. I cackle and call her back. She answers without a word.
“I was kidding! Calm down,” I assure her.
She growls in frustration. “I’m obviously not in the mood for jokes right now, asshole. I’ll be over at ten.” She hangs up again before I can say okay.
My smile pulls at my cheeks and my not-so-little man rubs against my fly. Just a few more hours. I can find a way to distract myself until then.
~
Work is good, but Teagan, as always, haunts my thoughts. The spreadsheet is clear. Without help from my dad, I can’t afford any apartment I’ve looked at in the city unless I get a raise. When classes start up in September, I have to have my shit together. I can’t pick up a second job when all my time outside of class goes to my internship.
Dro stands in the office at his desk the way he always does this time of day. I can ask him, right? Our conversations are always casual and easy. There’s not a way to get close to him in a traditional sense, but we have a good time, and I relate to him in any way I can. It’s worth a try.
“What’s up?” Dro says to me without looking my way.
“Hey, Dro. Could I talk to you real quick?”
“Sure.”
When I close the door behind me, Dro cocks an eyebrow with confusion. “I’ve been looking at my bills and a lot of them are going up next year. I was wondering if there was any way to increase my pay.”
He stares for a moment then bursts into laughter. “Heath, no.” He shakes his head, still laughing like I told a joke.
I realize I have never negotiated my pay, and it has me questioning everything. Is this not the way to do it? “Um, why?”
“Because you’re an intern.” He turns to face me, crossing his arms. His huge biceps make him more intimidating as I wait for his explanation to ruin my day. “Interns do not make money—that’s the way the world works. You’re learning, working under my license. When you are qualified on your own, then you can ask for more. Right now you’re making as much as anyone else in your position should expect.”
Fuck . In my head, the size of my next apartment gets even smaller. “Okay.”
“I’m gonna be real with you, Heath. You’re a rich kid, so you probably don’t know this, but this is the phase of life where you’re supposed to struggle, learn how to hustle. Not everyone gets to grow up with the safety net you have, and most people don’t even land on their feet when they fall. Be thankful for what you have and stay humble.”
I assume he means himself, just like I assume he doesn’t want to talk more about it. “Thanks, Dro.”
“Get back to work. We’re not paying you pennies to slack off.” His smirk is a balm for the reality he slapped me with, but I’m still bleeding after my fall from financial grace.
“Will do.”
~
It’s the end of my shift before I know it. Dro was right. Sinking into work was exactly what I needed to keep my mind off my bank account, but I will have hours between work and the next dose of pain relief I’ll get between Teagan’s thighs. I won’t worry about that yet.
“Six more. You got this.”
Shelley’s face scrunches but she pushes through with a groan. The sound barely distracts me. Her tight pink workout set makes it hard not to stare, but I manage with ease. Work is the only place I keep myself from being a pig.
“Three . . . two . . . last one.” She stands up, finishing the set. “Great job!” I hold out my hand and she slaps it. The beaming smile on her face makes me happy. “And that’s the end of your last session! How do you feel?”
“Good. Strong. As close to normal as I’m going to get, I think.”
“You came back from a serious injury. I’m proud of you,” I say. “If you keep wearing your brace and continue those exercises, you’ll never have to come back and let me torture you again.”
She looks away with that little laugh, her face turning pink. I pick up the Bosu ball and bands from the floor.
“I’m going to miss seeing you every week,” she says.
“Nah, there are plenty of better ways to spend an hour than looking at my ugly mug.” I smirk and her face reddens again.
“Um, Heath?” she squeaks from behind me. I look at her over my shoulder. “Now that I’m not your patient anymore, would you want to go out with me sometime?”
Her boldness surprises me. For someone who seems shy, she really came right out with it. I turn to face her again. Her cheeks are bright red but she looks me in the eyes, waiting for me to answer.
“Um.”
For a second, I try to think of a nice way to say no. But why should I? She’s hot, athletic, knows nothing about my circle or my family drama. It’s not a violation of the contract Teagan uses to keep me at arm’s length. She likes me. So, why the hell not?
“Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Her smile widens. “Would you want to get dinner tonight?”
Her sudden confidence is kind of hot. Without thinking, I say, “Sure. Let’s do it.”
~
It’s weird having to move money around to make sure I can pay for something as small as dinner, but that’s my life now. I’m still surprised this is even happening. It’s kind of cool. I can’t remember the last time a girl asked me out, or the last time I went on a date without hoping to get laid when it was over.
I should probably feel bad that I’m going out with Shelley, knowing in three hours I’ll be fucking someone else. But I don’t. The only requirement in the contract is to pause if we sleep with someone else, which I won’t be doing. Teagan planned for this to happen. This is way better than some of the shit I’ve done before, but something feels off. I can’t figure out what it is.
Shelley sits across the small table from me, grinning while she sips her twelve-dollar drink. It’s the first time I’ve seen her with her hair down. The three shades of blond hang in loose waves onto her shoulders, directing me to the cleavage she barely hides behind two struggling buttons. She doesn’t wear much makeup, at least not that I notice. All I see is tan skin, wide blue eyes, and blushing cheeks.
She picked a restaurant in SoHo. A little sushi place with good vibes. The dim lights make it feel like a date, but being outdoors near the bar makes it casual and chill. Sitting off in the corner, it’s fairly quiet. It makes it easy to talk, if only I knew what to say.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Shelley asks.
“What’s weird?”
“You know my body, my medical history, and all the personal information I’ve blabbed about for six months, but I don’t even know if you like sushi.”
“It’s not that weird, I promise. And I do like sushi.”
“Okay, good,” she says with a shy smile. We both take a sip to ease the awkwardness. She perks up and leans her arms on the table. “You should give me your elevator pitch.”
“My what?”
“Your elevator pitch. Sell yourself to me in thirty seconds.”
“I’ll gladly sell myself to you, but you should know I’m expensive,” I say with a smirk, though I could use the additional income.
“You know what I mean.” She giggles. “Tell me what makes Heath, Heath, and why I should snatch him up before someone else does.”
Usually, taking my clothes off or pulling out my black card accomplishes that, but Shelley is a nice girl . She’s an elementary school teacher from Jersey, the only daughter in a happy family of six. The kind of girl who doesn’t want a sly line or a bow for blow. She wants something real from me. Or at least she thinks she does.
My mind flashes through all the shit that people say when they introduce me—my namesake, D-list celebrity parents, my social status. None of that defines me , and it isn’t something I’m proud of right now.
What makes me who I am isn’t any of the pretty, shiny shit. It’s the stuff nice girls don’t want to hear. We’ll skip to the good parts instead.
“Do you want to know why I became a physical therapist?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’d love that.”
“Back in high school, I got scouted for the soccer team. A group of big-name recruiters came out to watch one of my games, and halfway through the game, in a freak accident, I took a cleat to the thigh and snapped my femur.”
Her mouth drops open. “Oh my god. Your femur ?”
“Yeah, it was pretty gnarly.” My fingers trace the outline of the scars most people don’t notice beneath my pe’a . The tattoo came before the scars, but both were important, though extremely painful, gifts. “I had to kiss my soccer career prospects goodbye, and I had to relearn how to walk.”
“Wow. That must have been devastating,” she says. “Is that when you decided?”
“Not quite.” I pause for a second, thinking through how I can dodge the parts that aren’t so wow . “After losing my chance to be in the pros, I was deep in my feelings about it. But then—” What are the right words to explain this? “My best friend’s little brother got into a bad car accident and almost died.”
“Oh god.”
“He separated his spine and the doctors said he would most likely end up with quadriplegia. My friend and I were really close back then, so it felt like he was my little brother too. His rehab started right after mine, but it was obviously a million times harder for him. He didn’t want to do it—but I knew how the shock of getting news like that made it easy to want to give up. So, I did what no one else wanted to do.”
“What was that?”
“I didn’t let him say no.”
Shelley stares at me, her chin resting in her palm as she waits for me to tell her more. That’s a first for me.
“I went to rehab with him every day, made sure he did everything the doctors said. Once I recovered, I was there with him even more, taking him to PT, watching every inch he progressed. He beat the odds and regained a lot of his mobility and strength. Being there to witness it was the best feeling.”
She shakes her head, a smile spreads across her face. “Wow,” she whispers this time.
I’ve never been able to tell the story that way. Everyone else either knows what happened or they’re not interested in hearing about it. Levi changed me, and I don’t think anyone knows that except Teagan.
“Do you still see him?” she asks.
“Yeah, but not as much anymore. His sister and I aren’t close like we were back then.”
“Why not?”
I shrug for her benefit, but I know the answer. Any happy feelings that story brings me fade fast when I think about what happened right after. So, I don’t think about it. Ever. Unlike her. “People just grow apart sometimes,” is all I say.
“You’re amazing, Heath. I mean that.”
I love a woman who can stroke my ego, but for some reason, I’m not here for it right now. In a rare moment, I change the subject away from me. “It’s your turn. Tell me what makes Shelley, Shelley.”
~
“Are you sure I can’t give you a lift?” she offers again.
Shelley is cool. She’s much better than I expected. Much better than I deserve, if we’re being real. “No, seriously. I live close.”
“All right. Well, I had a great time tonight.”
“I did too.”
As I start to say I’ll call her, she leans up and presses her lips against mine.
Her kiss is soft and timid like she is. My hand floats over her cheek, not knowing whether to pull her closer or push her away. I let it drop without doing either.
It feels nice. Kissing. Being desired for more than contractual sex.
She pulls away. Her eyes cast down, cheeks bright red. “Call me, okay?” Her eyes flutter up.
“Okay.”
Her little smile returns. “Bye, Heath.”
“Bye, Shelley.”
She shuffles away and I laugh to myself. What the hell just happened?
Wait. What the hell just happened?
~
My unease grows the closer I get to home. I still feel Shelley’s lips on mine, and with that feeling comes guilt. It’s not like this is new for me. My past track record with relationships isn’t exactly stellar, so I don’t know why I feel so thrown for a loop. There’s a lot of past on my mind tonight.
Teagan is leaning against the wall by my front door, staring down at her phone. “Hey,” I greet her. Her eyes find mine, and somehow, she doesn’t look pissed. “Am I late again?”
She smirks. “Of course you are.”
I unlock my door and we go inside. Without talking, we drop the contents of our pockets onto the island countertop and head to the bedroom. She pushes me to sit on the edge of the bed, then climbs onto her knees, one on each side of my thighs. I hold her hips when she sits; my dick swells with every heartbeat.
She pulls at the buttons of my shirt, unfastening them lower and lower. Is she going to wonder why I’m dressed up?
“Hey,” I start to tell her, but the second the word leaves my mouth, I regret it.
She glances up for a second but returns her attention to my shirt. “What?”
I hesitate. I’m dying to get inside her, but I also don’t want her to flip out on me if I wait until after to tell her. “Um, so . . . I kind of went on a date.”
She rips my belt from the loops, an unamused look on her face. “Congratulations.”
“No, like . . .” I trail off when she pulls her shirt off over her head, her nipples visible under thin red lace. Why am I still talking? “I went on a date tonight .”
“Okay?” Her eyes narrow with suspicion.
“That’s cool with you, right?”
She sits up straighter, glaring down at me. “Did you fuck her?”
“No.”
“Then why are you telling me about it?”
I’ve been asking myself the same question. “I don’t know.”
“Great. Now stop talking.” She pushes me to my back and unfastens my fly. A smile pulls at my lips.
Fuck the past; I’ll take whatever I can get right now.