Situationship

Thirty-one

Heath

At lunch, Teagan’s calendar reminder buzzes on my phone. It’s been almost two weeks since we paused, but I still haven’t canceled them. I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her—I can’t stop thinking about her most of the time. Was I trying to run into her? No. Did I come up with the stupid idea to take Shelley to the café Teagan introduced me to because of the slim chance I would run into her again? Yeah. I need to let it go.

Teagan doesn’t want me, and she’s made that perfectly clear for years . She reconfirmed that the minute she assumed my desire to be with Shelley, not her. So why can’t I accept that? Why don’t I want to accept that?

“Hey.” Shelley nudges my arm. “What are you thinking about so hard?” She leans her cheek on her fist and gives me that cute smile.

Hanging out with Shelley is a nice break from the guys right before the wedding, but I can barely pull my mind away from Teagan long enough to give Shelley the attention she deserves. Telling her the truth would probably hurt her, so I go with the typical, “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s just shit with my friends again. Drama always peaks this time of year.”

“The heat makes everyone crazy,” she says.

“It does.” I dismiss the calendar reminder and turn off my screen. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Lunch is much less expensive than dinner. One of the new tricks I’ve learned while being an ex–rich kid. There’s not a great way to hang out in this city without spending money, unless they come over to your place to hang out. I still haven’t had a girl in my apartment without the intention of getting her naked, so cheap lunches and happy hours it is.

Shelley lives close to the restaurant, so we walk. It’s hot but not hot enough to warrant a cab ride for a few blocks. Another way to save. I have mastered this budgeting shit.

“I wish I could go with you to the wedding,” she says. I’m not sure if she is hinting at something or not. “Ibiza? That sounds amazing.”

“It’s just another island.”

“Well, it sounds fun. I’ve never been to Europe. It’s in Europe, right?”

I smile. “Yeah, Spain. I would take you with me if I had a plus-one. And if my friends weren’t a bunch of assholes.” I wouldn’t, even if I had money to afford my own—

Shit .

Everything happened so fast, I didn’t even think about sharing a room with Teagan again. Surely, she secured a double-occupancy one again, but that’s semantics. We’ll be together in a small space. Alone.

The thought does something funny in my chest, but I can’t think about that right now.

“It’s really stressing you out, huh?”

I shake my thoughts away. There’s no point in worrying about the future. “It’s over the top for no reason. I think they’re trying to one-up our other friend’s wedding from last summer.”

Last summer . Memories of Teagan’s sweat-glistened skin and moans flash through my head. Ugh, I’m thinking about her again. I should give up on thinking altogether. Insert joke about being a dumbass here, I guess.

“Okay, so explain your friends to me again. The one getting married is . . . ?”

“Ryan.”

“Yes, Ryan. I remember that. He’s the whiny one.” Her correctness makes me laugh. I’m glad she enjoys trash talking my friends as much as I do. “Who got married last year?”

“Brett.”

“And the others are—there’s six of you, right?”

“Right. It’s Ryan and Brett, Jeremy, who is about to move to Philly with his fiancé, Ritchie the toxic one, and—” I stop. Shelley looks at me expectantly. “And Teagan.”

“Teagan is the one I met at the café?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, she is so pretty. And tall. Is she a model?”

“Not that I know of.”

“She’s really nice,” she remarks. I snort with laughter. “What?”

Teagan and nice don’t go in the same sentence unless we’re discussing her ass. “Not if you know her well enough. She can be a little mean, and she’s very bossy, but both are needed in a group like ours.”

“Sounds like it. The way you describe your friends reminds me of my last class. A lot of big personalities in those eight-year-olds. It’s like preparing for a battle every morning.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket again. When it keeps going, I pull it out and see it’s Mom. Why is she calling me? When I miss it, I see the text she sent first.

Mom: You should come over this afternoon!

She is back from her little “spa visit,” and this is the first time she has invited me over since before Vegas. I’d be more worried if she hadn’t put in the exclamation mark.

Shelley turns to me and I realize we’re already at her house. “Thanks for hanging out with me today,” she says.

“Thanks for letting me.”

Her smile lingers, and her eyes drift over me like I’m a work of art she enjoys but doesn’t quite understand. She steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist. “Come upstairs with me,” she whispers. Her tone does not suggest that she wants to have a beer and watch the game.

I hesitate. “Oh, um. . .”

“I know we’re just friends, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun, right?” She runs her hands up and down my chest.

The hesitancy chokes me again. Am I considering saying no? When have I ever turned down sex? Her lips are on mine before I can finish my thoughts.

I can feel the eagerness behind her lips, the heaviness of her breath while she takes control. She moves her arms to drape them over my shoulders. Reflexively, I move mine to her waist.

She ends the kiss but doesn’t lean away. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Okay,” I agree.

Inside, it’s a quick walk down a hall. Shelley’s apartment is old and small, but it has some charm and a bedroom. The second the door closes, her mouth is on mine again. The velocity of her kiss pushes me back against the wall. Her hands tug at my fly. Damn.

My body wakes up, my blood going to the places it should. My pocket vibrates again. I break the kiss and put my hand inside to silence it. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She takes my hands and pulls me with her into the next room. Her bedroom.

Things move quickly. Shirts come off, my fly goes down.

My newly gained sense of decency screams at me. “I have to tell you something.” This is new for me, and so uncomfortable. She looks at me. “I’ve had sex with someone recently. It was protected, but it was less than two weeks ago.”

A beat passes before she says, “I appreciate you telling me that.” Her smile widens when she sits on the edge of her bed. “I have some condoms in my drawer.”

That went a million times better than expected.

I empty my pockets onto her nightstand and open the drawer. An unopened box sits inside. I rip it open and tear off a single packet. She lies back and I crawl on top of her.

We’re kissing, I’m unfastening her shorts, she’s pushing mine down, and it happens again. I think about Teagan.

My mind harps on the way she feels when she’s beneath me, the way I can’t calm down when I even think about getting her naked. But here I am, limp while trying to get with someone else, acting like a fuckboy because I can’t have her .

I pull away. Shelley frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this right now.”

She looks surprised when I get up. “Right now? You’re leaving for Ibiza tomorrow,” she reminds me.

“I am, yeah. But it’s only for a long weekend. I’ll be back Tuesday.”

“Right.” She sounds disappointed.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She waves her disappointment away. “We’re definitely not doing this if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Shell. I am sorry, though.”

After I put my shirt back on and gather my things, Shelley suddenly asks, “Teagan is the friend, isn’t she?”

I turn back to her. “What?”

“She’s the friend. The one whose brother you helped—the one you said you grew apart from.”

“She is.” I’m not sure why it took me a moment to say that. “How did you know?”

“The way you look at her. It’s like you’re afraid she’ll run away if you blink.” She looks me in the eye. “She’s more than a friend to you.”

Shelley doesn’t sound accusing, just curious. What is it with women and their ability to know what I’m thinking before I do? What shows on my face that gives away half of my secrets? “I’m not really sure,” I admit.

“But do you want her to be?” she asks.

My silence says everything. I don’t know how to answer that.

“Shelley, I’m sorry. I didn’t go into this knowing I had feelings for her.”

A little giggle leaves her. “Believe me, I can tell,” she says, with a dimmer version of her usual smile.

“I’ll see you when I get back from the wedding?”

She nods. “Right.” She leans up to press her lips against my cheek. “Bye, Heath.”

That didn’t sound like a See you later . “Bye, Shelley.”

~

By the time I made it to the house, Mom still hadn’t returned any of my calls. She said to come over but never said why. Silas doesn’t look concerned when I drive up and park. That calms my nerves a bit.

“Mom is here, right?” I ask.

“Yes, she’s in the parlor.”

“With Dad?”

“No.” He draws out the word, and there’s something quirky about his grin. He’s not telling me something. Everyone’s having a great time while I’m turning down sex and feeling confused as hell.

Inside, I hear Mom laughing with someone. I round the corner and find her at the table near the kitchen where we usually sit. And next to her is Teagan.

My heart jumps. Why is she here?

“Hi,” I interrupt.

They turn to me. Teagan’s face drops but my mom’s lights up. “Heath, you came to visit!” She stands to hug me.

I wrap her in my arms, relieved she seems good but curious about what’s going on. “You kept calling me. I was worried.”

“Oh, that must have been a butt dial.”

“Did you butt text me too?” I whisper. I know what she’s doing.

She doesn’t answer. “Teagan is here.”

“Yeah, I see that. Why?”

Teagan looks at me, her doe eyes sending sparks over my skin. Her hair is already done for the trip. The abundance of tiny braids twist into a looser one that hangs over her shoulder. The audacity she has, showing up looking that goddamn beautiful when I’m in peak fuckup mode.

“We just got back from shopping and doing some other things in the city,” Mom says, but I don’t believe her.

“Other things?”

“Oh, I completely forgot,” Mom says. “I need to go call your dad. You two should sit and talk.”

She kisses Teagan’s cheek and whispers something to her. Teagan looks at her as if Mom just said every compliment her parents never gave her as a kid. “Thank you,” she says.

Mom scurries away and Teagan and I laugh at her poorly veiled attempt to get us together. She stands up and takes a few timid strides toward me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Why are you here?”

“We were hanging out.”

“Hanging out?”

“Yes.”

“You’re trying to steal my mom, aren’t you?”

“It’s not fair to keep her all to yourself.” We joke, but she avoids looking at me like she’s hiding something. When she lets her eyes find me again, I swear I see tears in them. “She said I could tell you, but I wasn’t sure how. I told her that you were worried about me at the party. It worried her, too, and when she wanted to help me the way you had been trying to help her , I think it clicked.”

The words take a second to make sense. “You got her to see the psychiatrist?”

“Yeah.”

My jaw drops. “You got her to go? Just like that?”

She grins. “I’ve been told I can formulate a pretty convincing argument.”

I smile at her joke, but inside I’m so fucking happy I could cry. Months of fighting with my dad, trying to convince my mom to listen to me, and the second Teagan shows up in my corner, all my struggle turns into success. “You should think about becoming a lawyer or something,” I say to cover my true feelings.

“I should.” She chuckles.

Without another thought, I grab her hand and pull her to me. She lands against my chest. I wrap her up in my arms and whisper, “Thank you.”

“You did this, not me. I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

Friend isn’t what I want to call her anymore, that much I know, but I don’t have the balls or the words to explain that to her. Instead, I hold her tighter, savoring the way she nuzzles her head against my neck before she releases me.

“I better go,” she says. “I hear there’s a wedding happening this weekend.”

“Right.”

I let her slip from my arms, watching her as she walks away. Instant regret.

“Teags, wait.”

She turns back to me with a curious expression. All the things I want to say—all the thoughts I wish I could piece together to explain how I feel—crumple beneath my fear.

“I, um . . . I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

She smirks. “Don’t be late.”

Watching her leave has me wanting to run after her. I can’t tear my eyes from her, even when Silas appears in my peripheral.

“I believe the phrase you were looking for is ‘I love you,’” he says, then strolls away.