Chapter Ten — Rhett
Chapter Ten
Rhett
Tessa: Arrived.
One word.
No punctuation.
I stared at it like it contained classified information.
Cam leaned over the back of the couch.
“Did she declare her love?”
“No.”
“Send a photo?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“Not today.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
I locked my phone.
“Like what?”
“Like somebody just handed you a bomb with good handwriting.”
Across the living room, Noah looked up from the video game.
“That is exactly what he looks like.”
“I hate this house.”
“You don’t live here,” Eli said from the kitchen.
“I hate visiting this house.”
Cam dropped onto the couch beside me.
The team’s off-campus rental smelled like burnt coffee, pizza, and whatever Noah had attempted to microwave at two in the morning.
A Lakeview game replay played silently on the television.
Nobody was watching it.
Mostly because Cam had spent the last twenty minutes analyzing my face every time my phone moved.
“So she made it home,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now nothing.”
“You wait?”
“I’m not waiting.”
My phone remained in my hand.
Cam looked at it.
Then at me.
“Right.”
I opened the message again.
Arrived.
Tessa had said she would text.
She had.
That should have been enough.
It was not.
I typed:
Rhett: How bad?
Deleted it.
Typed:
Rhett: Need an extraction team?
Deleted that too.
Then:
Rhett: Proud of you for going.
Absolutely not.
Too much.
Too honest.
I finally sent:
Rhett: Good. I was about to alert campus security.
Her reply came less than a minute later.
Tessa: They do not have jurisdiction here.
I smiled.
Cam saw.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You have a Tessa face.”
Noah paused the game.
“There’s definitely a Tessa face.”
Eli walked into the room carrying four mugs.
He handed me one.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
Cam grabbed for my phone.
I moved it out of reach.
“Get a life.”
“This is my life.”
“That’s deeply sad.”
My phone buzzed again.
Tessa: My father has already printed three internship packets.
I stood.
Not because the message required standing.
My body simply made the decision.
Cam stared.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You got vertical.”
“She needs help.”
“With what?”
I was already reaching for my jacket.
Eli stepped into my path.
“Did she ask?”
I stopped.
That was annoying.
Mostly because I knew exactly why he had asked.
Tessa did not need rescuing.
She especially did not need me arriving at her father’s house with a dramatic speech and no plan.
I looked down at the screen.
Rhett: Want distraction, advice, or backup?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Tessa: Distraction.
I sat back down.
Cam looked disappointed.
“You’re not going?”
“She didn’t ask me to.”
“That has never stopped you before.”
“Personal growth.”
Noah nodded solemnly.
“Terrifying.”
I typed:
Rhett: Cam is wearing socks with individual toes.
Cam looked down.
“I am not.”
Rhett: Noah tried to microwave a fork.
Noah frowned.
“That was one time.”
Rhett: Eli made coffee strong enough to remove paint.
Eli took a sip.
“It builds character.”
Tessa replied:
Tessa: This is not distracting. It is confirming my decision to avoid hockey players.
I smiled again.
Cam pointed.
“There. Tessa face.”
I ignored him.
Rhett: Too late. You wore the jacket.
Tessa: Temporary licensing agreement.
Rhett: Renewed twice.
Tessa: Under protest.
Rhett: History will remember it differently.
The typing bubble appeared.
Then stopped.
I waited.
Nothing.
The room continued around me.
Noah unpaused the game.
Cam argued with Eli about coffee.
Somebody’s laundry machine began shaking violently down the hallway.
I watched the phone.
Two minutes.
Five.
Nine.
No response.
I told myself she was busy.
Because she was.
She was sitting in her father’s house while he mapped out a future she had not chosen.
I knew enough about Tessa now to understand silence did not mean calm.
It usually meant she was carrying something alone.
I texted again.
Rhett: You don’t have to answer. I’m here.
I stared at the sentence.
No joke.
No escape hatch.
I sent it anyway.
Then set the phone facedown.
Eli sat in the chair across from me.
“You’re serious.”
I looked at him.
“About what?”
He nodded toward the phone.
“Her.”
The room quieted.
Even Cam had the good sense not to grin.
“I don’t know,” I said.
That was the truth.
I knew I wanted to see her.
Knew her messages changed the temperature of my day.
Knew I noticed when she was tired, cold, overwhelmed, pretending.
Knew I wanted to be the person she did not have to perform competence for.
But serious?
That word came with weight.
Expectation.
Risk.
I had spent years making sure nothing got heavy enough to hurt.
Cam leaned back.
“She’s different.”
“Insightful.”
“You’re different with her.”
I looked toward the window.
Gray clouds pressed low over campus.
The first real snow of the season threatened in the distance.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted.
Nobody laughed.
That made it worse.
Eli spoke first.
“Then don’t do the usual thing.”
“The usual thing works.”
“For what?”
I had no answer.
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it too quickly.
A photo.
Tessa had sent a picture of a dining-room table covered in folders.
Law firms.
Graduate programs.
Internships.
Scholarship applications.
Every folder had a label.
Every label looked like a decision already made.
Beneath it, she wrote:
Tessa: He made a spreadsheet.
I replied immediately.
Rhett: That is your move.
Tessa: I know.
Rhett: Identity theft.
Tessa: I taught him conditional formatting.
Rhett: You created the monster.
Three dots.
Tessa: I think he means well.
I read the line twice.
That sounded like Tessa.
Defending the person pressuring her because his intentions were good.
As if good intentions canceled the pressure.
Rhett: He probably does.
I paused.
Then added:
Rhett: You still get to want something else.
Her reply took longer.
Tessa: I don’t know what else is.
Rhett: That doesn’t mean law school wins by default.
Nothing.
Then:
Tessa: You make everything sound simple.
I typed:
Rhett: It’s not simple.
Deleted it.
Typed again:
Rhett: I make jokes when things aren’t simple.
Her response came almost instantly.
Tessa: I know.
That landed harder than expected.
She knew.
Not the campus version.
Not the easy version.
The pattern.
The pause before the smile.
The part of me that reached for humor whenever honesty felt too exposed.
I set the phone against my knee.
Cam glanced over.
“Good?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re terrible at status updates.”
“I’m living in uncertainty.”
Noah muted the game.
“Can we order food?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“I’m hungry.”
Cam threw a cushion at him.
The doorbell rang.
Eli frowned.
“Did anyone order already?”
Nobody had.
Cam got up and opened the door.
A woman stood outside holding a bakery box.
Not a delivery driver.
Mara.
I had met her once at a booster dinner.
Tessa’s older cousin.
Thirty, maybe. Polished. Efficient. The kind of person who looked like she had never lost a receipt.
She glanced past Cam and found me immediately.
“Rhett Callahan?”
I stood.
“That depends.”
“It’s not a criminal matter.”
“Then yes.”
She stepped inside.
Cam moved aside.
Mara held out the bakery box.
“Tessa’s father sent pie.”
I looked at the box.
Then at her.
“Why?”
“He thinks you’re dating.”
The room went silent.
Cam covered his mouth.
Poorly.
I took the box.
“He sent pie to the man he thinks is dating his daughter?”
“He sends food when he’s trying not to ask questions directly.”
“What kind?”
“Apple.”
“No. Questions.”
Mara looked amused.
“All of them.”
I glanced at my phone.
“She told him we’re not together.”
“She did.”
“And he still sent pie.”
“He saw the university photos.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains him.”
Mara lowered her voice slightly.
“He’s worried.”
“About me?”
“About Tessa making a choice he didn’t help plan.”
That was more honest than expected.
I set the pie on the coffee table.
“Is she okay?”
Mara’s expression softened.
“She’s holding her own.”
Not okay.
Holding her own.
There was a difference.
“Does she know you’re here?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you?”
Mara glanced toward the others.
Cam, Noah, and Eli suddenly became fascinated by the muted television.
“She needs somebody who sees her as more than a list of good decisions.”
My chest tightened.
“Why do you think that’s me?”
“I’ve seen the photos.”
“That is terrible evidence.”
“I’ve also seen her messages.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Family group chat,” Mara said. “She mentioned you.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Of course.”
“She defended you.”
That surprised me.
“From what?”
“Her father called you unserious.”
I looked down at the pie box.
The word should not have mattered.
I had heard worse.
Encouraged worse.
Built half my reputation around worse.
But Tessa had defended me.
“She said you showed up,” Mara continued.
That was it.
Not funny.
Not charming.
Not good-looking.
Showed up.
The thing I had promised.
The thing I wanted to keep doing.
Mara moved toward the door.
“She’ll hate that I came.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because she won’t ask for help until she’s already drowning.”
I understood that too well.
“She asked for distraction,” I said.
“Then distract her.”
“How?”
Mara smiled.
“You’re the expert.”
She left before I could ask anything else.
Cam shut the door.
Then turned.
“Well.”
“No.”
“You have been approved by a cousin.”
“No.”
“Received ceremonial pie.”
“No.”
“Defended before the father.”
“Cam.”
He lifted both hands.
“I’m just saying, this relationship has infrastructure now.”
“It is not a relationship.”
My phone buzzed.
Tessa: Are you busy?
I answered:
Rhett: Never.
Then immediately corrected:
Rhett: That sounded sad. Try again.
Rhett: What do you need?
Her reply came.
Tessa: My father invited you to dinner.
I stared at the screen.
Cam tried to look over my shoulder.
I moved away.
Rhett: Did he?
Tessa: Mara told him you were free.
I looked toward the door.
Mara had planned more than pie.
Impressive.
Terrifying.
Rhett: Are you asking me to come?
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Tessa: I am asking whether you would be willing to continue the arrangement for one dinner.
One dinner.
Fake boyfriend.
Father interrogation.
Tessa needing backup without using the word.
There was no universe where I said no.
Still, I made myself ask the important question.
Rhett: Do you want me there?
This time, the answer came quickly.
Tessa: Yes.
Something warm and sharp moved through my chest.
I stood.
Cam stared.
“Vertical again.”
“I need a car.”
“You have a car.”
“It’s unreliable.”
“You drove it yesterday.”
“It made a sound.”
“What kind?”
“A mechanical one.”
Eli reached for his keys.
“Take mine.”
I caught them.
“Thank you.”
Cam rose.
“What do you wear to meet a fake girlfriend’s father?”
“No idea.”
He looked me over.
“Not that.”
I wore gray sweatpants and an old Lakeview shirt.
Fair.
Noah unmuted the television.
“Bring the pie.”
“The pie came from there.”
“Then bringing it back shows confidence.”
“Do not advise him,” Eli said.
I headed toward the stairs.
Cam followed.
“You need a plan.”
“My plan is dinner.”
“Wrong. You need backstory.”
“We have one.”
“You do?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I stopped halfway up.
He nearly walked into me.
“What do fake couples know about each other?”
Cam grinned.
“Everything.”
That was the problem.
I knew pieces.
Coffee.
Schedules.
The jacket.
Her father.
Her fear of wanting the wrong thing.
I did not know her favorite movie.
Her childhood nickname.
Whether she liked pie.
What song she played when nobody was listening.
The details that made a relationship believable.
The details I suddenly wanted for reasons that had nothing to do with dinner.
My phone buzzed again.
Tessa: One hour. Please do not flirt with my father.
I smiled.
Rhett: No promises.
Three dots appeared.
Tessa: Rhett.
Rhett: Fine. Minimal flirting.
Tessa: This was a mistake.
Rhett: Too late. I’m already choosing a shirt.
Her answer:
Tessa: Wear something normal.
I looked down at myself.
Then at Cam.
“What does normal mean?”
“For you?”
He considered.
“Less chest.”
“Helpful.”
I continued upstairs.
Halfway to the bedroom, another message arrived.
Tessa: And thank you.
I stopped.
Read it again.
Then typed:
Rhett: You asked. I’m showing up.
Her reply came several seconds later.
Tessa: I know.
I stood there longer than necessary.
Because she did know.
And for the first time, I wanted someone’s faith in me more than I wanted their attention.
That was new.
That was dangerous.
And I was already changing shirts.