28. Tessa
28
Tessa
“ Y ou what?” Peyton screams into the phone. “I’m sorry, say that again.”
“I slept with Shep,” I tell her in a flat voice.
“And you didn’t open with that tiny piece of information?”
“Well I’m sorry, Peyton, it seemed a little self-centered to answer your ‘hey’ with an ‘I slept with your brother.’ ”
“You mean my other brother.”
“Do you have a point in mind?” I knew she was going to act like this, that she would find this dilemma funny.
“Are you like…trying them out? Seeing which one fits better?” I hear her snort in the background.
“I’m glad you find this so funny, but I was looking for some actual advice.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She clears her throat. “Peyton McAbee speaking, how can I help you?”
“You can start by telling me what the hell I do now,” I say desperately.
I’ve focused on nothing but work and impressing my bosses since I got here. I’m ready for Houston to start feeling like a home, but everything still feels so temporary. Staying busy has helped me keep my mind off Beau and was keeping Shep at arm’s length, until I blew that comfortable little plan to smithereens.
Since promising a month ago we’d never repeat our one-night stand, Shep and I have conveniently forgotten that same promise a time or two… or five. Every time, we vow this will be the last time, but all it takes is seeing him sweaty and dripping from practice or when feeling sad and lonely turns me into a needy mess. I keep saying we need to stop seeking each other out, but the sex is too good and we’ve both been walking down that hallway to knock on the other’s door.
Peyton and her weekly calls are about the only things keeping the homesickness at bay, but even she might be worried at the number of times Shep and I have fallen into bed. I’ve avoided telling her long enough, but I don’t think telling her the whole truth is a good idea.
“Was it any good?” She asks.
“Excuse me? Did you really just ask me that?”
“Yeah, but it factors into the advice,” she says quickly. I take a minute and think of how to explain my internal struggle. What could be better than having semi-regular sex with your best friend? Your conscience not drowning in guilt, maybe, intuition’s bitchy voice answers.
“Oh no. It was bad bad. You’re hesitating.”
“No, it wasn’t. That’s the problem. I wish it had been terrible because that would make this so much easier.”
“You horny, little slut,” she says, and when I hear her laugh, it’s like we’re right back in my old room again. I wish it were still that simple.
“Pey,” I groan. “Be serious. This is the last thing I need. Are you still coming to his game?”
“After this, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But have you talked to Shep? What does he want?”
“He thinks we should tell Beau.”
“Seriously? He’s such a goody-two-shoes. For the record, I’m voting against rubbing Beau’s nose in it.”
“Same, but part of me wonders if he’s right. Could I live with it if it were off my chest?”
“Why do you feel guilty?”
“I don’t know,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my every word. “Maybe because I’m fucking around with my ex’s brother, who just so happens to also be my roommate.”
“Maybe because you’re still in love with Beau,” she fires back.
Her words hang in the air and the breath I didn’t know I was holding slips out. “There is that.”
“I don’t know what kind of advice you were looking for, Tessa, but I think that tells you something. If you’re sleeping with someone and thinking about how it’ll make someone else feel, that’s a dead giveaway that something’s not right.”
“I know. I don’t want to hurt either of them.”
“How does he seem?” she asks and I can hear her genuine concern. Peyton might pretend to be flippant about her brothers, but she loves them fiercely.
“He’s good at hiding his feelings, you know that.”
“Too bad we don’t know anyone else who does that.”
“That’s enough making fun of Tessa for one day, smartass.”
But she’s not wrong. And it’s something I desperately want to change about myself. I owe it to Shep to sort out my feelings. We both love Beau too much to hurt him this way. Shep wanting to come clean is proof of how much he loves his brother. But it’s high time we end whatever this is between us. It can’t happen again. And Beau can’t find out about it.
The last month hasn’t been awkward. In fact, this is the best I’ve felt since moving to Texas. Me and Shep have been going about our days separately, but meeting up for late-night dinners in his sprawling living room. It’s far too fancy for us and the takeout we order, but I’ve come to love this part of our routine and I don’t want hooking up to change that.
It’s the only time I get to see the real Shep, when he’s relaxed and open. I wish everyone could see the side of him I get to see at night. He’s not a celebrity here, not as uncomfortable as he seems to be in the public eye. When we’re sitting on the living room floor, he’s just my friend. And that’s something I desperately need.
“Can we change the subject now? I know far too much about my brothers’ sex lives.”
“I thought you’d never ask. There’s a work event tomorrow I’m pretty excited about.”
“What’s the event?”
“A book launch for an autobiography written by a former president.”
“Ooh, sounds fancy.”
“It is. There is a meet-and-greet beforehand and they’ve asked a few people from work to go and show support. I kind of volunteered,” I say quietly, hoping she can’t hear the desperation.
“It’s not a bad thing to want to be a part of the team, Tessa. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to take your high-profile roommate.”
“He only agreed to be my date as long as I promise not to introduce him to anyone.”
“Joke’s on him. He’ll be the one doing the introductions.” We both chuckle, but Peyton asks like she’s been keeping it in this whole time, “How’s it really going?” She could mean my job or the city or life in general, but I choose to tell her about work. It’s the safest option, the only one that’s truly good.
“I’ve gotten used to it. That’s not true. I love it, actually. It’s Houston that’s a different story.” Getting to work on a book that's about to go out into the world and being able to say that I was a part of it gives me a sense of purpose. Even if it’s a fleeting emotion, I feel like moving here wasn’t for nothing. “I’m hoping that if I continue doing well where I’m at, they’ll have an opening for me in marketing soon. I’d like to be a little more hands-on with social media. How cool would it be to help run the account for the authors we represent?”
“Seems like that’s right up your alley.”
I tell her more about how I haven’t quite gotten used to the appearances we have to make. It’s not all glitz and glam like this event, but even the smaller things, like book signings in a department store, are a little daunting. I’m not used to so many people showing up to things. It’s exciting getting all dressed up and feeling like I belong in this brand-new place. Exhilarating even when I realize I don’t feel like the new girl everyone is gawking at. But it’s also a standard I’ve never had to live up to and it’s exhausting.
In Houston, everyone is perfumed and polished. They’re all so dressed up all the time that I wonder if the women here sleep in their four-inch heels. I’d much rather have the mud of the pond between my toes and I miss the comfort of my worn cowboy boots. They’ve hardly seen the light of day sitting in the back of my closet. Most days it’s easy to forget this is supposed to be Texas.
I don't tell her that sometimes I get the feeling this place is taking from me. Not work, but the city. Like I have to be someone else to live here. Someone a little bolder, someone brighter. Like Houston expects me to have a little more shine. I try not to think of the trade-offs between here and home often, but they find a way in.
As happy as I am to talk to her every week, I’m starting to miss the sound of voices from back home and seeing her name pop up on my phone is bittersweet. Texas accents are flatter than those from Georgia. There’s a different cadence to their Southern drawl and hearing hers makes me think of the way my mom’s voice rolls smoothly over her words. It does nothing but leave me feeling weak and hollow.
I’ve tried to call once or twice, but home doesn’t answer. When I first got here, I was sure my mother would answer the phone and forgive me after a few weeks, but that hasn’t been the case. Peyton says she needs to go right in the middle of my reminiscing and I wish she’d stay on the phone just long enough for me to shove the homesickness back into its little box, but I don’t ask her to.
When I hang up, I look down to find that I haven’t been paying attention to the toes I was polishing while we spoke. I’ve painted my entire first toe in a bright, coral color. Time to start over.
The day before the big game, I’m reading a manuscript on the couch when I hear a key in the lock. I assume it’s Shep coming home from practice. The door opens but I’m too focused on the paragraph I’m reading to look up.
“Hey,” I call. “You hungry? I was thinking of getting Thai food tonight.” When he doesn’t answer I look up, but it’s not Shep’s face staring back.
Beau’s standing in the doorway, tight lipped and wary, holding a duffle bag over his shoulder. If I could move, I’d note the way the strap of the bag pulls his shirt down and how the strong column of his neck works as he swallows. I’d note how my pulse races and my skin feels too tight seeing him with his hat backwards, blonde hair curling out underneath. If I could look at anything other than the turquoise of his eyes in the light from the windows, I’d commit all those other things to memory, but I can’t look away.
He came.
“What are you doing here?” I say, surprising myself with how happy my voice sounds.
“I came to surprise Shep.”
“He doesn’t know you’re coming?”
“No. He thinks I’m staying at the hotel with everyone else. For the game.”
“Oh.” I sound so stupid with nothing to say, but I can’t think of anything else. I want to rush over, jump into his arms and inhale him. I can imagine the scent of his cologne, but I can’t make my legs work because I can’t believe he’s actually here.
“What are you doing here, Tessa?” A shiver of apprehension runs down my back at the way he says my name with both syllables.
“I sort of… I live here.”
I don’t mean for it to come out sounding defiant, but it does. The memory of the day Shep asked me to move in resurfaces and I don’t want Beau to think I couldn’t hack it on my own. That I came here to let someone else take care of me. I want him to be proud that I did this by myself. But he doesn’t look proud and I’m starting to wonder if I misjudged why he’s here.
He shakes his head slowly and smiles a bit, running his teeth across his lower lip. “Good for you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Nothing.” And under his breath, it sounds like, “None of my business.”
He thinks… Oh no. “Beau, we’re not… We’re just friends,” I try to explain but he holds up a hand.
“Nope. Like I said, none of my business. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Heat floods my cheeks at how wrong I was. Beau’s not here for me at all. He really must have come to watch Shep’s game. I am so goddamn stupid.
I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t see the pink staining my cheeks. “Umm, twenty or thirty minutes maybe? He usually gets home around four.”
Beau looks down at his watch and adjusts his shoulder strap. When he doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Do you want to wait around? It won’t be long.” Please say yes.
“No, thanks. It might be a little too crowded here. I’ll text him.” He turns to go and then spins like he forgot something. “Hey, Tess?”
“Yeah?” I hate myself for the hope in my voice.
“Are you happy?”
I allow myself to take him in as I think about his question.
He looks good, but then again, he always does. Even when I hated him he was the most handsome guy in the whole fucking town, and I was too stubborn to see it. His facial hair’s a little longer, the grown-out stubble making him look more reckless, wilder. The powerful shoulders are the same and the trim waist. His body looks the same. So its just his heart that’s changed then?
Am I happy?
I consider all the ways my life has changed since I last saw him. I’m in a new city I might be able to love one day. I have the job I’ve always wanted, I get to read and edit pieces that make me happy, that make me feel something. I accomplished the biggest goal I’ve ever set for myself. But I also take in all the downsides I’ve had to learn to live with since coming here.
Does all that make me happy? Yes and no.
Is it what I want to do with the rest of my life? Yes and no.
Is something missing? Yes. And no.
If I took a chance and told him all this, after upending his world and shattering his heart, would he still care? There isn’t a way I could possibly explain how his question makes me feel. I have to take the good with the bad. In my mind, I can’t separate the best thing that ever happened to me from the worst thing that ever happened to me. Getting everything I wanted and losing Beau means none of it was worth it in the first place.
“I guess so,” I say softly because I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know what he reads in my expression, but after a moment he nods. “Good for you.”
He twists, getting ready to walk out the door again and I call him back. “Hey, Beau?” I can’t help it. I wasn’t done looking. His perfect face turns to me. “It’s really good seeing you.”
“You too, Tess.” He moves down the hall and out of sight.
When he’s gone, it occurs to me that he could have called me Firecracker and didn’t. I doubt I’ll ever hear him say it again.