17. Too Many Hits to the Head
17
Tessa
As far as I’m concerned, the prank war is over. It’s been several days since Riggs gave me those tickets, and I haven’t heard from him since.
I’ve taken some time to think about our history, and even though I still think what he did was a dick move––the dickiest dick move, ever––I have to acknowledge that we were just kids back then. We’ve both grown up, childish pranks aside, and I know I’m not the same person I was back then.
Is it possible Riggs isn’t the same, either?
His little thank you gift seems to say so. I looked up the price of those season tickets and almost had a heart attack when I saw how much they set him back. All to thank me for not posting that video of him online.
Would it really have been that bad? It’s not like he was doing anything depraved or illegal. He was just eating a cookie. Its phallic shape may have caused him some embarrassment, sure, but it’s not like he’d get fired over it. Right?
And despite the text message I sent him, there’s no fucking way I’m selling these tickets. I’ve been saving for weeks to buy seats for the home opener for myself and my friends. I was going to surprise them with a girls’ night out. Even though Roxy, Skye, and Hadley don’t love football as much as I do, they would jump at the chance to attend the first game at the new stadium.
And now we can go to every home game during the entire season, sit in the clubhouse seats, and get free food and booze? If anyone tries to take these tickets from me, they’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.
Folding the paperwork gently, I place it back in the velvet lined box I’d found for it and lock it back up in the safe in my closet. Is it overkill? Maybe. But I don’t care. I refuse to take chances with something so precious.
My phone chimes as I close my closet door, and I pull the device from my pocket to check the text. I swallow thickly as I swipe at the screen to view it.
Riggs: Are you using psychological warfare against me? You’re a cruel woman, Tessa White.
I changed his contact name after he gave me the tickets, and I hate the way my heart fluttered when I saw it flash across the screen. I shake my head at the silly reaction, then smirk as the meaning of his message filters through my addled brain.
Me: Oh, is waiting for my next attack torturing you? Never knowing when I’ll strike next, or how? Good.
Riggs: Like I said. Cruel.
Me: Oh, stop being such a big baby. I’m sure you can take whatever I dish out.
Riggs: The anticipation is killing me. Please…put me out of my misery and get it over with.
I heave a sigh as I type out my next message.
Me: Nothing is coming. I’m done. The war is over.
A second later, my phone starts to ring. Riggs’ name illuminates the screen, and my stomach bottoms out. What should I do? Answer it? Let it go to voicemail? Fuck.
I dance from foot to foot, then stab my finger against the screen and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“The war can’t be over. You have to prank me back. Remember my fat face on your car? Everyone in town is talking about how Tessa White is my biggest fan. Don’t you want to get me back for that?”
“Have you taken too many hits to the head on the football field?” I ask, my tone betraying my bewilderment. “Why would you want me to prank you?”
“Because,” he says, blowing out a long breath. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years. And having you play pranks on me constantly is better than the alternative.”
“The alternative?” I ask, my voice a bit breathless at his admission.
“Not having you in my life, at all,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft. “I’ve missed you, Tessa.”
“I…I have to go.”
“No, wait––”
I end the call and throw my phone onto the mattress like it burned me. I stare at it as I begin to pace back and forth, my mixed-up brain somehow both wishing it would ring again while praying it doesn’t.
Despite all the anger and pain, hearing Riggs tell me he’s missed me has me tied up in knots. My heart is racing like someone jabbed a needle full of adrenaline right into it. My hands are sweaty, my breaths are short and choppy, and I don’t even want to acknowledge what I’m feeling in my lower half.
“Fuck this,” I mumble, diving onto the mattress and grabbing my phone.
Pulling up my group chat with the girls, I type out a message with shaky fingers.
Me: I told Riggs the war is over, and he got upset.
I only have to wait a few seconds for the first reply.
Hadley: What? Why was he upset?
Me: He doesn’t want it to end. He said he’s missed me and would rather have me pranking him than not have me in his life, at all.
Skye: Girl, you should tap that.
Roxy: She’s not going to sleep with him, Skye. She hates him. Right, Tessa?
Me: Right.
Skye: Well, that was believable.
Roxy: Tessa? Has something changed?
Me: No. Not really. I mean, he did give me those season tickets. And he did say his war with me is the most fun he’s had in years. Fuck. I don’t know.
Hadley: Maybe you should just go over and talk to him.
Me: What? No. I can’t do that.
Hadley: Why not?
Me: Because. I just can’t.
Skye: Woman-up, Tessa. You can’t avoid him forever. He lives right next door, for Christ’s sake. You should just go over there and clear the air.
Hadley: It’ll probably make you feel better.
Roxy: Just do it.
Me: Okay, fine. I’m going.
Roxy: Text us after.
Hadley: Good luck.
Skye: Use a condom!
Skye: I kid. I kid. Seriously, though. Don’t back down, and make him beg for forgiveness. Then do what’s best for you. Love you.
Me: I love you guys, too.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth. Afterward, I pull a comb through my hair and dust some powder over my nose and chin before swiping on some lip balm.
I’m not trying to be pretty for Riggs. Every warrior needs their armor, and this is mine.
I’ve held onto this pain and anger for far too long, and the next few minutes will either dissolve it or strike it through my soul anew. Either way, I need to end this. I’ll offer Riggs my forgiveness, then we can decide where to go from there.
Maybe one day we’ll even be friends.