Thirty
Teagan
Why does it hurt?
Heath and I got carried away after the party, breaking rules we put in place for a reason. Any more crossed lines and we’d be back in that place again, reliving the shit we went through, ripping each other to shreds all over again. I do not want to be with Heath—most days, I don’t even like Heath—but sex does stupid things to your brain, and the more sex you have, the more logic goes out the window. He called it at the right time.
The whole point of the contract was to keep feelings from happening. There was supposed to be nothing between us except text and sex, but that’s hard when we have so much history. Bit by bit, he crept in. And I let him. It scares me to think part of me wanted him to be there the whole time.
A step back is better. It’s room to breathe and regain some sense while I’m not grasping at everything in reach just to feel some sort of comfort. It’s time to recenter myself and focus on what will heal me rather than hurt me.
But why do both of those lead back to Heath?
“Teagan.” My mother grabs my attention.
I lift the phone back to my ear. “Sorry, I was reaching for something. What did you say?”
At work, it’s late, and the room is empty except for me and the intern scanning documents in the opposite corner. The dark office is quiet other than the scanner’s unending whirring sound while stacks of boxes slowly make their way off my desk and into the cloud. I wish I could evaporate too. Picking up extra hours at work before my week off was supposed to keep my mind busy and avoid opportunities to disappoint my parents again, especially if I end up having to ask them for money to cover my rent. Unfortunately, Mom is too familiar with my job and my schedule to think she can’t call me on the office line.
“You left. Without telling us.” She nags me about the party again.
“I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”
“You missed the announcement and Lenny’s speech. We went to introduce you to an important client, and you were gone. That was unprofessional and very out of character for you.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.” I repeat the phrase as if it’s a record, spinning around with no end. “Can I call you back? I need to work.”
She sighs. “We’ll talk more at our dinner.”
“Okay.” I hang up the phone with a groan.
Sunday dinner is going to be a shit show. I don’t have the strength to argue or to tell them the truth about why I left the party. For a week they’ve been on me about it, taking turns calling me as if they don’t work in the same office and live in the same house. It’s another coordinated attack and I have no defense. Rowan hasn’t spoken to me. Levi is out of state for a game. I’m an easy target, and all I want is to have an excuse to disappear. All I want is everything I can’t have.
My phone rings again with a call from the front desk. “Hey, Brooke,” I answer with a sigh. “Is it my dad this time?”
“No, baby.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “One of your white boys is here.”
“What? Which one?” I hate that I have to clarify.
“He’s tall. Has muscles. Looks real good.”
Heath? My heart races against my will. “Be right there.”
I scurry out of the office but force myself back to a normal walking pace before I am in view from the lobby. Brooke makes eyes with me, then tosses them in the direction of my guest waiting in the conference room. When I see him, my heartbeat slows with disappointment.
“Hey, Teagan,” Lenny says.
I look side to side, trying to find the distortion in the universe that put him in front of me in Heath’s place. His familiar broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes no longer “look good” to me. They remind me of the shitty things he said, and how nice it felt to avoid him for the last two months. “What are you doing here?”
He stares down at his feet. “Um.” He shifts his weight, tucking his hands into his pockets before finally looking up. “I owe you an apology.”
Surprise steals the words right out of my mouth, and I can’t snatch them back before he continues.
“When we broke up, I shouldn’t have said those things or called you names,” he says. “You’re a good person, and you have the right to live your life the way you want. It’s not my place to judge you.”
There’s a glitch in the matrix for sure. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Do you no longer think I’m a slut, or are you no longer judging me for being a slut?”
“No! I didn’t mean that, I—” He fidgets again, dodging eye contact. Watching him squirm is oddly satisfying. “I thought we had something special. When you told me you didn’t want me, I was heartbroken, and I said a lot of stupid things to get back at you. I’m really sorry.”
“Well, thank you for saying that.” I watch his mouth turn up in a weak grin. Surely, he isn’t expecting an apology in return. “I was frustrated, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” He seems sincere, but I can’t trust it yet. “I tried to catch you at the party last weekend, but . . .” I was with Heath , I fill in his blank. “Is that guy your boyfriend?”
“No,” I say a bit too quickly. “He’s just a friend.”
“Cool,” he says. “I came here to ask if you would ever consider taking me back.”
Without meaning to, a laugh escapes. I choke it back when I see the expression on Lenny’s face. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of changes that will need to happen, but I’m open to those—to listening and learning—whatever you need. I still love you, and I really want a chance to start over.”
My mouth is hanging open, but I close it as soon as I notice. I love a man who can grovel. But I don’t love Lenny. That doesn’t mean I can’t love him one day. Probably. To be completely honest, I’m not sure it matters if I ever do. My life is working overtime to show me love doesn’t exist, and I’m finding little evidence to suggest the contrary.
“It’s a lot to drop on you at once.” Lenny breaks me from my mental circles. “Will you think about it?”
“I will, yeah.”
He steps closer, his eyes tracing me up and down. “Would you want to think about it over dinner? And . . . after dinner too?”
“After—? Oh.” I catch his meaning right as I ask.
“I want to—” He looks around, verifying we’re out of earshot. Knowing Brooke, we aren’t. “I want to try some of the things we talked about.”
Mr. Nice Guy shows up with a two-month redemption arc and tells me he wants to eat me out? What the fuck is happening?
“Are you serious?”
He nods. “My family is going out to the Berkshires after the weekend. How about the weekend after next?”
“I can’t. I’ll be in Spain for Ryan’s wedding.”
“Oh.” He looks as surprised as I feel. “The summer’s almost over already?”
“Right?”
He steps even closer. His hand runs down my arm, leaving a painful chill in its wake. “Then maybe call me tomorrow instead?”
People place love on a pedestal, but ultimately, does love matter more than the ability to commit to a lifetime of partnership, just like a successful business? It’s my parents’ story all over again, and everything they’ve wanted for me.
As perfect as it would be to fulfill my parents’ wishes and connect the dots of my future with a nice, crisp line, if I’m real with myself, is that even worth it?
Still confused, I agree. “I’ll think about it.”
“Great.” He looks at me, then his eyes drop to my lips. With a hand on my cheek, he leans in.
I don’t fight it when he kisses me. It’s over as soon as it started. Looking at him, I feel defeated.
“See you soon,” he says, and leaves.
I wait until the elevator arrives to go back to my desk, but catch the look on Brooke’s face. “He’s not the white boy you wanted to see, was he?” She already knows the answer to that. “It’s none of my business.”
“But?”
She acknowledges her transparency with a sigh. “ But . . . you work hard, all the time, and sometimes on the wrong things. You don’t have to make everyone around you comfortable all the time. You deserve to be comfortable too.”
Do I?
~
It’s four in the afternoon the next day, but caffeine is warranted. I slept like shit last night, wondering what to do about Lenny, trying to figure out how much of myself I can sacrifice before I’m in pieces on the dinner table tomorrow, letting my parents pick apart what’s left like the emotional vultures they are.
The café is busy enough to distract me, the music loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I order my iced almond milk latte and watch the baristas dance to the music while they prepare it. My brain focuses on the banality of the beat and the strangers’ lack of rhythm rather than worrying about getting scolded by my parents and possibly getting back together with my ex. The toxic voice in my brain imagines a world where Hey, Lenny decided he’d eat my pussy now, so I took him back. Are you happy? is both an appropriate statement to make to my parents and one that will satisfy them enough to leave me alone.
I need to touch all of the fucking grass.
“Here you go.” The barista slides the compostable cup over to me.
“Thank you so much.” I shake off my thoughts, snap on my lid, and stab my straw into the hole with a bit too much enthusiasm. Ready to go home and resume my existential crisis, I turn around and freeze when I see him.
Heath.
And a blond woman standing next to him.
I look around, trying to find a route to avoid them or a place to hide, but it’s too late. He spots me and his eyes widen, his stupid, handsome face looking like he got caught in the act. “Hey, Teags,” he says.
“Hey.”
He pulls me into a hug with one arm, as friends do. I try to smile at him, but I can’t. He looks good. His dark hair falls in perfect waves above a fresh fade. Body tight. Smelling nice. Ugh .
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“What am I doing in my coffee shop?” I say, lifting my straw to my mouth. “I wonder.”
He smirks. “Got it.”
I turn to his companion. “Hi. You must be Shelley.”
“Yes! Hi!” She’s a smiley one. Short, curvy. Pretty too.
“It’s great to meet you finally. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
We both look at Heath. He stares at me while an awkward silence settles. I raise an eyebrow.
“I’ll go order for us,” Shelley says to him. “What do you want?”
“Just an Americano. Thanks.”
“No problem!”
She leaves us, and in a rare moment, I’m at a loss for words. “She’s cute,” is the best I can come up with. “ Great tits too.”
Heath laughs. The awkwardness breaks a little. “How are you?” he asks. “Everything good? We haven’t talked since—” We paused .
Barely a week has passed, and it feels like a month. What can I say to him? That I fucking miss him? That standing next to him right now is the first time I’ve felt alive in days, even though it’s killing me that I can’t touch him? That he shouldn’t try to be happy with someone else, he should be miserable with me instead?
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Life is a smidge above mid right now.”
Rather than giving me the laugh I expected, he stares at me with those gray eyes and waits for me to tell him the truth. But I can’t. Not the full truth, at least.
“Okay, fine. My parents are pissed about me leaving the party. They keep calling me about it and I don’t know what to tell them at dinner tomorrow.”
“Blame it on me,” he says. “Tell them I got bored and made you leave with me. It’ll be believable. I am a douchebag, right?”
I want to laugh but it doesn’t come out. “True.”
“Or—and this is going to sound crazy—don’t go to dinner.”
Now the laughter comes out. “You’re right. That is crazy.”
“Like I told you before, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Blame it on me, focus on getting through the wedding, then you can figure it out when you get back.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “I’ve got you, remember?”
I swallow away the emotion climbing up my throat. I’m still too raw to have him look at me like that, saying all the right things at exactly the wrong time. “I remember.”
His little girlfriend comes back over. She’s not someone I’d expect him to go for, but that’s probably a good thing. He looks lighter, at ease—nothing like our last night together. I picture them together, Shelley making his smile as wide as she does, her taking my place in his bed. My body burns with jealousy.
I should be happy for him, but my heart hurts too much. “You two have fun. I’ll see you on the floating city Brett calls a boat.”
Heath’s sarcastic laugh sounds more like a hum. “Yeah, can’t wait.”
I place my hand behind his head and press my lips to his cheek. I pull away and look at him, regretting what I did, yet wishing I could do more. “Bye.”
His eyes never leave mine. “Bye.”
I wave to Smiley to diffuse any tension. “Bye, Shelley.”
She waves back. “Bye! Nice to meet you!”
“Nice to meet you too.”
~
I didn’t make it home before I started crying.
Sitting on the floor beside my bed like the definitively sane person I am, I sequester myself from the sights and sounds of Jeremy packing in the next room. I wipe my face, listening to the traffic and sipping my coffee, waiting to go numb again.
This is how summers always are. The sun feels amazing at first, but the longer I try to stay in it, the more I get burned. Life isn’t full of sunshine and happy times, and it’s not supposed to be, but I wish I could have more than three months a year to pretend it is.
I curl my knees up and stare down at my phone sitting beside me. When I tap the screen, the light adds a soft glow to the shadow I’m in. Lenny wants me to call him—he’s giving me a way to smooth things over with him and my parents—a surefire way to reduce the stress my parents will pile onto me at dinner tomorrow, and still, I hesitate.
Make the call . I try to convince myself, but I only get as far as opening my contacts. I nibble at my nail while I shift my gaze to the ceiling. Make the call , make the call , make the call .
I tap the Call button but tap to end it just as quickly. My hesitancy isn’t because of Heath. I won’t let it be. But seeing him with someone else was an unexpectedly painful source of encouragement.
Still, I don’t want to hear Lenny’s voice or have to debate someone over the validity of the feelings I still can’t discern. A text is the best I can do.
Me: Hey, Lenny. I’ve given it some thought, and I think it’s best if we try to be friends. You are a good guy, and you are going to be a great business partner one day, but we don’t have to be in a relationship to make that work. Can you be okay with that?
At the end of the day, I can keep crying, wishing I could have something I knew wasn’t mine in the first place, or I can move forward. I can be the friend I said I would be.
I hit Send, not waiting for Lenny’s response before making a different call instead.
It rings three times. I decide to hang up just as I hear, “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Reynolds.” I’m not sure what to call Heath’s mom now. Her name is Manamea, but I used to call her mama . “It’s Teagan.”
She gasps. “Teagan! Sweetheart! How have you been?”
I haven’t heard her voice in so long. I forget how comforting it is. “I’ve been . . . I’ve been okay. How have you been?”
Her slight hesitation speaks volumes. “I’ve been okay too.”
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. If that’s all right?”
“Of course! You can talk to me about anything. Always.”
I take a breath to calm my emotions. “It’s about something Heath said. How much time do you have?”