14. Chapter 14
14
T yson walks in as I shoot off a text with a damn smile on my face.
“You’ve been walking around like a smitten schoolgirl for days now.” Ty tosses keys into the communal key bowl before flopping on the couch and grabbing the remote.
“Shut up,” I say. “What keys are those?” He has a couple of cars, but they all have their own keychains. This one is new.
“Just something I’m testing out,” he says as he flips through the channels. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with that?” He nods his head towards my phone.
“There’s nothing to tell.” It’s annoying that he’s prying. Libby and I have been in our own little bubble for a couple days, texting throughout the day, and it’s been nice — more than nice.
“Bullshit. You know that she’s my sister’s best friend, not to mention a friend of mine as well. We have seen her go through some shit. If you decide she’s just a fling, I’m going to have to kick your ass.” His eyes are serious, and it’s adorable he thinks he could ever take me. But also complete bullshit that Tyson Miller is lecturing me about having a fling.
“I’m aware she’s been through some tough times. But she’s not a fling .” It’s true. As much as I’ve enjoyed the banter and flirting, it hasn’t gone beyond that. I haven’t even seen her since Tyson’s game. We’ve scratched the surface of getting to know each other, but I’m itching to know more.
“Right. Just don’t be dumb. For all of our sake,” he mutters, and focuses on the TV as I head for my room.
Every time I’m around Libby, it seems as though she enjoys my company as much as I enjoy her. Or maybe that’s me being hopeful. It was never my intention for a week to pass without seeing her again, but work has been extremely busy since I took that day off to be with Libby that was cut short by my mom needing a ride to her doctor's appointment. I’d like to think my construction crew could function for a day without me, but everything went to shit.
Now it’s Friday, and I gave my guys the weekend off. It’s going to set us back a little, but there's a certain redhead with icy blues that I can’t stay away from any longer.
I pull out my phone to text Libby.
Me: Do you have any plans for this weekend?
Libby: I have a date tonight
What? This is news to me, but I need to play it cool.
Me: Oh? Who's the lucky guy?
Libby: Ben
Who the fuck is Ben?
Me: Does Ty know about this?
Why the fuck did I ask that? She doesn’t answer to Ty, or to me, for that matter. But I’m grasping at straws here. I need answers.
Libby: Ty likes him.
I’m out of my room the second the text comes in. “Who is Ben and why haven’t you told me about him?” I ask Tyson, my voice oozing with disapproval.
He shoots his hands up in defense. “Whoa. What are you talking about?”
“Libby said she’s going on a date with some guy named Ben and that you like him.” I clench my jaw, trying to keep my tone even.
“Dude, you have it bad,” he chuckles. He fucking chuckles.
“I’m glad you’re getting a kick out of this. Are you going to tell me who the creep is?”
“Why don’t you just ask her?” His attention is back on the basketball game he was watching before I came barging in, clearly not taking my side in this. Fucking cool.
I take a few calming breaths before replying to Libby.
Me: Then he must be a nice guy.
Libby: He is pretty sweet.
Well, isn’t that fucking precious? Another text comes in before I can respond.
Libby: So is his friend. He’ll be there tonight too.
She’s going on a date with two guys at the same time? What kind of shit is she into? And why the hell haven't I been added to her roster of men? Stay calm, Colt.
Me: Ah. Well, I hope you have a good time.
Libby: Thanks, I will. There will be lots of spooning ;)
What the actual fuck.
That’s enough. I throw my phone across my room, imagining it was the two assholes who get to spend their evening with the only girl who has kept my attention for longer than a few hours. Another text lights up my phone, but I can’t look at it. I can’t handle another blow.
But you can’t just ignore her.
Son of a bitch. I stomp over to my phone and pick it up, seeing that she sent a photo attachment. She is some kind of evil torturing me like this. But curiosity gets the best of me. Opening the text, I squint, thinking it’ll somehow block out whatever parts of the picture that I don’t want to see. Relief pours down my spine, followed by pure adoration. In the picture, Libby is posing next to a tub of Ben & Jerry’s with the text: Don’t we look good together?
God, she’s adorable. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and she isn’t wearing any makeup — not that she wears much of it anyway — displaying her perfectly freckled face.
My eyes roam over every inch that I can see, trying to commit her to memory, just as she is right now. But I spot something and everything else fades away. Just below her slim neck, I see the top of a blue shirt — a familiar blue shirt. My blue shirt. It’s been four days since Blake went to get Libby’s things from her old place, so I know she has her own clothes… But she chose to wear mine.
I can’t take it any longer. I throw some clothes in a bag, grab my keys, and shoot off a final text.
Me: You look perfect. Enjoy your date. I’ll see you in an hour.
As I walk out the door of mine and Tyson’s apartment, I hear his laugh and what sounds like, “that’s what I thought.”