“Bro––” D chuckles. “You spend all your free time with her. You never go more than two sentences without bringing up her name. And you won’t let any of us near her. You already are in a relationship. The only thing you’re not getting is the convenient sex.”
Dallas stands, slaps my shoulder, walks back inside.
Chapter 17
Reagan
I text Alice for the fifth time in two days.
Me: on the bus and cole is entertaining everyone with stories of his sexual escapades. save me.
Half an hour later and still no response. We’ve been driving for an hour and it already feels like forever. Being trapped in this tin can, helpless to do anything other than wait Alice out, is making me antsy. I’m no expert on women, but I’m pretty sure that waiting is not the winning strategy here. Time is not on my side. The longer she has to be mad at me the worse this is going to get. And with each minute that passes without a text from her, fear that I may have permanently sunk this friendship gains traction.
Me: what are you up to tonight? plans?
When that one goes ignored I start to sweat. I still owe her an apology and I didn’t want to do it over the phone. I was going to take her out to dinner, do it properly, but she shot that plan down like it was target practice at the O.K. Corral.
Before I check my phone again, I glance sideways to make sure I’ve got privacy. My co-captain is sound asleep in the seat next to mine. Brock’s head is tipped back on the headrest, noise-canceling headphones on.
“Rea––where you at? We need one more for the card game,” Shane says loud enough to get everyone’s attention.
“Nah, man. Not in the mood.”
“Lady problems,” Dallas mutters from the seat across the aisle.
My head snaps up from the phone to find all eyes trained on me. I shoot Dallas a knock it off glare, and make a mental note to beat the life out of him later.
“Yeah? Let’s hear it,” Cole adds.
“How about you gossip girls mind your own business,” I throw out casually. If Cole gets wind that I’m genuinely twisted up over a girl he’ll never stop. He’s the most anti-relationship guy I know and I really don’t need him projecting his shit onto me. I got my own bag to deal with.
“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it,” Cole tosses back with a cocky grin. “We have an eight-hour bus ride, and plenty of wisdom amongst us to dispense.”
“Circle of trust, bro.” Shane gestures with his index finger.
“Hard pass.” I gesture with my middle finger.
“Phone-tree girl is messing with your head,” Cole taunts. “Let us help you out of the darkness and into the light.”
My irritation peaks. I don’t have the fortitude to fend him off tonight. “Suck my dick, Cole.”
“I’ll suck your dick,” Quinn shouts from three rows up and all the guys react at once, laughing, commenting, generally pissing me off.
“Jesus, Smith.”
“Awww, c’mon.”
“Bwahahaha.”
“That’s your captain, dude. A little respect.”
“Love is love, you cunts!” Quinn shouts back, laughing like a madman.
It’s on me to settle the troops, or none of us are going to get any sleep on this bus ride from hell. “Enough! Not a single one of you has a girlfriend with the exception of Rhodes and Finley, and fuck if I’ll take advice from a couple of freshmen––no offense, guys.”
“None taken, Cap,” comes from the head of the bus where those two are probably FaceTiming their GFs.
Cole chuckles. “I’ve had relationships.”
“Those are called hookups. I take naps that last longer,” I’m quick to correct, drawing snickers from the audience.
“Your loss, bro. Just make sure the sorry-ass moping doesn’t interfere with the game tomorrow.”
A moment later, thankfully everyone goes back to doing whatever they were doing before the spotlight fell on me.
“You said she wasn’t your girl,” Brock murmurs on my left. Guess he’s not asleep anymore. True to his nature, which is to be the most chill guy I know, his expression holds no condemnation. “You said the two of you were just friends.”
“She’s not and she is––at least, I hope we’re still friends. I, uh, kinda messed it up.”
“What’d you do?”
“Made a scene when I found her talking to some guy. I just…snapped––” My eyes skirt the edge of the window while my hand nervously runs through my hair. “And I think she likes him,” I glumly admit, my face puckering in bitterness.
Brock nods slowly. “Did you apologize?”
“I tried but she’s icing me out.” My mood grows grimmer by the second as I recall the hurt on her face, the shock.
“My two cents?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sending mixed messages, stringing her along. That’s not cool, man.”
Mixed messages? Is that what I’ve been doing? “You think I’ve been sending mixed messages?”
A wtf look pops up on Brock’s face. “You honestly don’t see it? You guys spend every minute together.” Noting my blank expression, he continues. “You get nasty whenever anyone else tries to cut in on your time with her.” The sinking sensation in my chest tells me there’s truth to this. “Either make her your girl or cut her loose. It’s not fair, what you’re doing to her.”
“You think she’s into me?”
My heartbeat thunders as I await his answer with bated breath. “I know she’s into you. Everybody knows she’s into you––except for you.”
Relief floods my chest. But then the feeling pivots, takes a nosedive. It sounds like I’ve been using her, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. And I’m not completely to blame here. Alice friend-zoned me too. I haven’t been seeing other people on the side. As a matter of fact I haven’t been able to see anybody else with the amount of time we spend together.
“I can’t cut her loose.”
He shrugs. “I guess it’s option A, then.”
“I’m not sure option A is the best thing for her, either. I’ve got too much bullshit to deal with as is. I can’t add a girlfriend to the list of responsibilities I already have. I’ll screw it up and then I’ll lose her for good.”
Brock stares at me for a beat before putting on his noise-canceling headphones. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Alice
It’s almost midnight when my phone rings and Reagan’s name flashes onscreen. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since we argued four days ago. The six missed calls on my Recents list and multiple text messages say not for lack of trying on his part.
Chewing on the end of my thumb, I debate whether to answer. I miss him. God, do I miss him. Amazing how three months ago I didn’t even know he existed and now four days apart feel like an eternity. I better get used to it, though. Our current arrangement can’t be sustained. Too many unrequited feelings. Too much physical chemistry. Only on my end, apparently. He’s more than happy to continue as we were. Which depresses the shit out of me.
After bookmarking the article I’m reading on my laptop, I close the tab and power it off, setting it on the small desk that butts up against my even smaller bed.
The call goes to voice mail but it looks like he’s hit his patience limit for being ignored because the phone starts ringing again only a minute later.
“What are you doing?” he says as soon as I answer.
“Talking to you apparently when I should be studying for my History of Italian Film exam tomorrow. Don’t you know how to text like the rest of the civilized world?”
“But then I wouldn’t be talking to you, would I?”
The deep breath he takes reaches through the phone and raises the hair on my arms. It also puts a reluctant grin on my face. No one has the ability to disarm me as effectively as Reagan can. I was all ready to be aloof and mysterious but no, I’m smiling like a goofball. It’s kind of exasperating how easily he decimates every attempt I make to keep some distance between us with only a few sweet, well-timed words.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
I’ve missed him. I don’t want to argue anymore and I’m even willing to forgo an apology to keep the peace. Ignoring his claim, I steer the conversation elsewhere. “Are you still on the bus?” The team traveled to Palo Alto for a game against Stanford yesterday, and I know they lost because I checked.
“No, just got home.” He sounds down so I don’t press for more about the game. From what I’ve been told the division is super competitive and Stanford is already two wins ahead of us. Us…I think of the team as us now.
“So I’m watching Justice League and I have to tell you, no contest, not even a shadow of a doubt, the best character is the Flash.”
“Mmm. Bold assertion. And this very important business couldn’t wait?”
“Friends don’t let friends walk around clueless, Bailey. It’s one of the pillars of friendship.”
Friendship. Why does that word make me a smidge bitter. That’s not really a question. Reclining in bed with my hand tucked behind my head, I take the olive branch he’s offered. “Wonder Woman.”
“Alice…”
“Reagan…”
He sighs loudly. “Fine. She’s hot. I’ll grant you that. And she’s got a neat lasso. But she’s not funny. She’s not really, really fast. Which is awesome. And frankly she’s sort of a stuck-up bitch.”
That earns him a horrified gasp. “You did not just say what you said.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I am so disappointed in you, Reagan Archibald Reynolds. She’s so much more than a hot chick with a neat lasso. And she’s not a bitch––she’s regal. There’s a very clear distinction.”