Texting (The Complete Series, page 57
Monty: You’ll live.
Me: Not if I’m dead I won’t.
Monty: So dramatic.
Me: *cries a thousand tears*
Monty: If I’d have known you were going to be such a handful…
Me: I am way more than a handful and we both know it. 😉
Me: We’re meeting tonight. I’m not taking no for an answer.
Monty: Yes, you are. I can’t.
Me: Can.
Me: Be prepared.
Me: It’s happening.
Monty: I’m too tired for sex.
Me: If you think you’re tired now, just wait.
18
Monty
“Good morning, class. I’m Miss Andrews.”
I slap my hand against my forehead.
“Nope. That’s dumb. Let’s try again.”
Squaring my shoulders, I hold my head high and try one more time. “Good morning, class. I am Miss Andrews and today…”
I stop myself because I sound ridiculous…again.
I’ve been standing in front of this mirror for the past thirty minutes trying to nail my opening for my first day, and everything I say sounds robotic or asinine—there is no in between.
It was the same way on Wednesday when I had my first set of parent-teacher meetings. I sounded so stupid in front of all the smiling parents, and I could have sworn I saw a few cringes when my voice squeaked mid “good evening”. My stomach rolls at the thought of having to do it again this Wednesday.
Good thing I have time to practice. Hopefully, the kids will be more forgiving than the parents.
I clear my throat and try again.
“Good—”
There’s a loud knock on the door and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden noise.
I bet Denny forgot her keys again.
I slide my robe over my pajamas and make my way to the front door.
Another loud knock.
“I’m coming, you hairbrained goof!”
The moment I pull the door open, I regret not looking through the peephole first, because the person standing on the other side isn’t who I’m expecting.
Not at all.
He’s leaned against the doorframe, big arms crossed, a smirk gracing his lips.
“Hairbrained goof? Is that the best insult you could come up with?” He holds his hand up and shakes his head. “Wait, wait, wait—never mind, totally is.”
“I could absolutely come up with something better. I could say…um…I could call her….”
“Go on. I’ll wait.”
“I can’t think with all this pressure!” I draw my robe tighter around my body. “Why are you here? Better yet, how did you get here?”
“Gee, it’s so great to see you too, Monty. Nice outfit, by the way—very sexy. As for how I got here, I traveled by this amazing modern invention called transportation.”
My hair is piled on top of my head in a messy bun and I’m wearing my tiniest pair of sleep shorts, a tank top, and no bra.
I look like a mess as I glare at him from my doorway. “I meant, how do you know where I live?”
“Oh, that’s easy—Denny.”
“Denny? How?”
“Remember Zoe?” he asks.
“You mean that insanely beautiful girl from the bar? Yes, quite well.”
“Was that jealously I just heard in your voice?”
Yes, I want to scream, which is ridiculous because deep down I know I have nothing to worry about, but sometimes our emotions get the best of us and we react to certain situations in ways we normally wouldn’t.
Hence my voice going an octave higher as I shake my head and say, “No.”
“Because you have nothing to be jealous of. One, she has a boyfriend. Two, she’s like a sister to me. Three, you’re my main squeeze, Monts.”
He winks, and I hate that it makes me want to reach out and pull him closer, then sear my lips to his.
“Anyway,” he continues, “she and Denny have become good friends since then. Zoe, being one of my very best friends, was kind enough to give me Denny’s number, who was more than happy to give me your address.”
“Was she now?”
He nods. “Definitely. She said—and I quote—‘My sister needs a good dick’. Then she proceeded to give me your address, holler something about not bothering her at work, and hang up.” He holds his arms out. “And, well, here I am.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
I sigh and fold my arms over my chest. “Why are you here, Robbie?”
“Oh, someone is cranky tonight.” He shakes his junk my way. “You need some lovin’?”
“I will close this door,” I threaten.
“You won’t. You’ve missed me too much.”
“False.”
His smirk grows. “You’re a terrible liar. Now, go get dressed. We’re going out.”
“We most certainly are not. I told you, I need to work on my lesson plans tonight.”
“What you need is a night out, to relax. You have all day tomorrow and all night because I’m certain you won’t be able to sleep with first day jitters.”
He’s right, and it annoys me that he’s right.
I’ve always been horrible when it comes to that.
The night before the first day of school? I can’t sleep. The night before a big trip? I’ll be lucky if I get an hour’s worth of sleep. Before a doctor’s appointment? Forget it.
I am way too much of a worrywart to relax.
Hence why I’ve been running around like an insane woman, barely squeezing in any time for myself this past week.
“Robbie, no. I need to get stuff done.”
“Please, Monty, just tonight. I’m doing this for you, not for me. You need this.”
“I need this, or you do?”
“Fine, I admit I’m being a little selfish because I miss the shit outta you, but also because what I said is true—you have got to relax or you’re going to scare those kids on Monday with all your crazy.”
“I…” Crud. He’s right. “Just tonight, and you have to promise you will not bug me at all on Sunday.”
He holds his hand up. “Scout’s honor.”
I side-eye him, waiting for him to squirm under my scrutiny, but he never does.
He means it. He’ll leave me alone tomorrow.
“Fine,” I agree.
“Good!” He pushes off the doorframe and stalks my way, forcing me to back into the apartment. “Now go put your tits in a sling and let’s get outta here.”
“How do you know I’m not wearing a bra?”
He shrugs, closing the door behind him. “I’m just good like that.”
“You mean you were staring at my breasts?”
“Fine, you caught me.” He reaches out like he’s going to grab them but I slap his hand away. He laughs and begins wandering around the very tiny apartment. “I like looking at your boobs—sue me,” he says over his shoulder.
He inspects the place, which doesn’t take long because all we can afford is a very small two-bedroom apartment.
“This is cute.”
“It’s smaller than your place,” I comment. “I wish we had more room, but it’s all we can afford.”
“I’m not judging you on how big your apartment is or isn’t, Monty. If you think I’m rolling in dough, you’re wrong.”
“Good. Wait, no,” I backtrack. “Not about you not rolling in dough, about you not judging me. I mean, not that I thought you would or anything like that, I just mean I—”
I gasp as his hands cup my face and his lips cut my words off. He moves his mouth over mine with such mastery, giving me a soft, chaste kiss that leaves me wanting more.
“I’ve missed you,” he says quietly when he pulls away.
“I know.”
“And…”
“I guess I missed you too.”
He laughs and gives me another quick kiss before pushing me an arm’s length away.
“If you don’t go away now, this night is going to take a turn it’s not supposed to…yet.”
“And that would be a bad thing…why?”
“Because we have plans. Now get them boobs in a holder before I do something stupid.”
With reluctance, I drag myself back to my bedroom and strip as quickly as possible. Out of habit, I reach for one of my skirts, but my hand freezes over the garment.
Robbie can surprise me, so I can surprise him too.
I grab a change of clothes and dart across the hall to the bathroom. I pull my outfit on and stare into the mirror, trying to figure out what I’m going to do with this mess of hair.
“I’m totally judging your ‘Continue Watching’ list on Netflix!” Robbie yells through the apartment.
“You snoop!”
“You bore!” he teases, poking fun at all the documentaries and cooking shows I’m sure are listed on the screen.
It takes me another five minutes to get my red mane under control and swipe some lip gloss on. I zip back over to my room, grabbing my favorite mantra-stamped necklace and slide it on before taking a steadying breath and meeting Robbie in the living room.
“You seriously watch this shit? It’s s—”
Whatever he was going to say dies on his lips when he sees me. His jaw hangs open, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Holy fucking shit. I never in my entire life thought a pair of jeans would be the hottest thing on a chick, but damn, woman. You wear those well.” He twirls his finger in a circle. “Let’s see that ass.”
“Robbie! I am not a piece of food. Stop drooling.”
“I could eat you like a piece of food.” He grins wolfishly and winks. “But you know that.”
My face flames and I shake my head. “Let’s go before I change my mind about going out in public with you.”
He clicks off the TV and stands to meet me. “You love going out with me.”
“Actually, this is our first time going out.”
“Is not. There was Lola’s.” He holds up his index and middle fingers. “Twice, mind you.”
“That doesn’t count. Both times we were there together were on accident. This is our first date.”
“There is no way! We…”
He trails off and his eyes widen as he realizes I’m right.
We’ve been texting for over a month now, he took my virginity, and we’ve gotten dirty between the sheets several times since then—but we haven’t been out on a date yet.
How backward is that?
“Fuck, Monty. I feel like such a dirty asshole right now. I didn’t mean to not properly take you out. It’s just that we’ve known each other for weeks now and talk every day, and I guess I never realized we hadn’t actually been out together.” He shakes his head, disappointed in himself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like we’re actually dating. We’re just having fun, doing the light and fluffy thing, not taking anything too seriously. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that we haven’t been on a real date yet.”
“But does it sadden you?”
I twist my lips up, thinking. “I think if you weren’t so fun and we didn’t have such a good time texting, it might. I might feel like we were missing something, but I don’t.”
“Good. That’s good. Makes me feel a bit better.”
“But…”
“Always with the butts. You’re such an ass girl.”
I glare at him. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to go out on dates. I think that would be nice. Nothing over the top, but dinner or a movie together every now and then would be fun.”
“Well, we’re not doing dinner and a movie tonight, sorry. I’m planning something else that’s a lot more fun.”
“Then lead the way,” I tell him. “Let’s go have some fun.”
“No, no. After you.” He holds his hand out. “Ladies first.”
I push past him, and not until I hear him suck air in through his teeth do I realize what he just did.
I peek back over my shoulder to find him standing in the middle of the apartment, knuckles tucked between his teeth as he stares at my behind.
“Damn.”
“Ugh!”
I pull the door closed, right in his laughing face.
“That ass is what dreams are made of, baby!” he hollers from inside.
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
What have I gotten myself into with this guy?
“Okay, okay, so you were right: metal isn’t bad, especially that Parkway Drive band. Did you know they’re from Australia and are surfers too?”
Robbie grins at this information. “I did. How do you know that?”
“I looked them up. That lead singer is mighty cute.”
“You bone one bad boy with tattoos and suddenly that’s all you want,” he teases.
“Stop it.” I shove at him playfully as he puts the car into park.
“We’re here. Stay. Let me get the door.”
I wait patiently as he climbs from the vehicle and rounds the front.
He pops open my door with an over-the-top bow, holding his hand out to me. “Milady.”
“Thank you,” I say, climbing from the car and glancing around the lot. “This is the secret place you were dying to whisk me off to?”
“Is there a problem, Princess Montana?”
I look up at the billiards pub. It’s a rundown-looking building in the middle of a nearly deserted strip mall. There are a few groups of people sitting around outside at tables, smoking cigarettes, sipping beers, and laughing.
While this isn’t a place I’d normally step foot in, I’m eager to see what’s inside.
“I’ve never played pool before,” I tell him.
“Good. I’ll teach you.”
He places his hand on the small of my back and steers us toward the entrance.
The first thing I notice is this certain smell to the building, like there have been way too many cigarettes smoked inside in the past, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. The carpets are worn and the lighting is dim, but it’s not as unkempt as I thought it would be.
We slide into two chairs at the wide-open bar, most of the patrons occupying the many pool tables scattered about the building.
“Do you mind if I get a beer?”
“Just because I’m not a big drinker doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself. I don’t mind. But, fair warning, I’ll be taking your keys when we leave, even if you only have one beer.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me the keys. “Two things. One, it’s stupid sexy how responsible you are. Two, it’s a good goddamn thing we didn’t take my bike then.”
“I’m sorry, you have a motorcycle?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve always wanted to go on one. We should have taken that.”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” he says honestly. “But noted for our next date, because there will be another one.”
I smile as the bartender appears in front of us.
“Hey, good to see you, Robbie. You want your usual on draft and an hourly table?”
“Please, Not Pam. That’d be great.”
“Anything for you, love?” she asks me.
“No, thank you.”
She nods and scurries off to grab Robbie’s beer.
I turn to him. “Not Pam?”
“You ever see The Office?”
“Bits and pieces here and there.”
“Remember the secretary? The one Jim’s in love with? Pam?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well she looks nearly identical to her.”
“No way,” I protest.
He slides his phone from his pocket and taps the screen a few times before turning it my way.
“See, that’s her.”
I peer at the image, looking back and forth between the actress on the screen and the bartender standing right in front of me, Robbie’s beer in her outstretched hand.
“He’s showing you why he calls me Not Pam, isn’t he?”
I nod. “The resemblance is…wow.”
“I know. I get it all the time. Good thing she’s a cutie.” She winks and bends below the counter for a second, popping back up holding a tray full of cue balls and chalk. “Here you guys go. You know the drill. I’ll be around to check on ya in a bit.”
Then she’s heading back down the bar again, tending to another couple who just walked in.
Robbie hops off his stool with his beer in hand. “Grab the balls?”
“How did you say that with a straight face?”
“I didn’t,” he admits. “My lips twitched, you just missed it.”
I roll my eyes and grab the balls as he leads us over to a table along the wall of windows.
For a place where I’m certain balls go flying off tables all the time, they’re quite brave having all the windows and mirrors they do.
He sets his beer on the table and begins racking the balls.
“We’re just gonna shoot, get ya used to the table before we start making bets.”
“Bets? What kinds of bets?”
“For kisses, fun new positions, butt stuff—the usual.”
My lips lift at his nonchalance. “First game starts the bet.”
“First game, huh?” He scratches at the stubble on his chin, thinking and studying me. “Okay. What do you want if you win?”
“Ten kisses, anytime, anywhere.”
He grins, like he knew that’s exactly what I’d say, how safe I’d bet.
He just doesn’t know what his kisses do to me.
“Okay, okay. When I win, I’ll decide what I want.” He rubs his hands together, excited. “I’m thinking a new position. I have some crazy things I’d like to do with you. You sure you wanna bet first game?”
I nod. “Positive.”
“No exceptions for what I come up with?”
“None.”
“Deal.”
We shake on it.
He shuffles through the pool sticks, searching for just the right one, testing it on the table before deciding.
“I’ll break,” he tells me, getting into position.
