I’m suddenly thankful for our deal, not just because he saved my ass, but because I think maybe I’ve made a lifelong friend out of it. I can’t imagine him never being in my life after this.
“What made you come here?” I blurt suddenly. I wave my hand to the food spread between us. “Why’d you bring dinner?”
He wipes the corner of his mouth free of ketchup. “Because I wanted to. I could’ve gone to Cole’s, I do love to bug the shit out of him, or even Mascen, and I could’ve pestered Jude to hang out, but … it was you I wanted to be with.”
His brows furrow, eyes narrowed at his own statement like he’s surprised by the revelation.
“Huh,” I muse, fighting an amused smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”
Teddy clears his throat, the faintest stain of pink on his cheeks. He picks up the plastic bag and holds it out to me. An offering or a distraction, I don’t know. “Cookie?”
15
Teddy
Vanessa: Why was there a knock on my door and when I opened it there was a bag of clothes from NORDSTROM sitting there?
I can tell from her capitalization of the store that she’s ticked off, but…
Me: It’s just some clothes for brunch tomorrow. You can pick what you want and return the rest or keep them all. I don’t care.
Vanessa: I don’t need you to shop for me.
I sigh from inside my car where I haven’t even pulled away from her dorm yet.
Me: I know you don’t, but I figured chicks like clothes, and it would make it easier for you.
I’m not making any sense, but I don’t want to tell her that I did it because I can see the worry on her face every time I pick her up. Worry that her clothes aren’t good enough for my parents, that she’s not enough. I mean, it’s always possible I’ve made a grave assumption, but I’ve seen the way she plays uncomfortably with her clothes in their presence, eyeing the ones on her body and then the ones they wear.
Vanessa: I can pick out my own clothes, Theodore.
Me: Still not my name no matter how many times you try to act like it is. A smile of amusement plays on my lips.
Me: Take them all back. I don’t care.
And I don’t. I don’t give a shit what Vanessa wears, but I just want her to feel comfortable, well as much as she can in the presence of my father.
She doesn’t reply right away so I pull away from her dorm and drive to Mascen’s townhome, parking in the driveway.
Somehow, even after swearing I’d never do it again, I agreed to run with him.
I think I agreed just because of his endless taunting of telling me I’ve gotten slow in my old age. As if I’m old. The fucker is jealous because clearly, I’m the better looking one of the two of us.
Getting out, I close the door to my car and lock up when another text from Vanessa finally comes through.
Vanessa: You’ve already done enough for me with my tuition. Anything else is too much.
I stare at the message for a moment before I type out my reply.
Me: Nothing is too much. Keep the clothes. Please.
I don’t wait to see if she replies. After tightening my shoelaces, I ring the doorbell and wait for Mascen to join me.
He steps out, ready to go, wearing his usual dick-headed smirk.
“Ready?” He arches a brow.
“Prepare to get your ass whooped.”
He chuckles. “It’s cute you think you can keep up with me.”
If you’d told me this morning I’d be puking my guts up in a bush after Mascen pushed me into a ten mile run, I wouldn’t have shown up. The bastard knows too as he cackles from the light post he leans against.
“Told you that you needed to start running with me. This is pathetic.”
“We play baseball,” I groan. “I need to know how to sprint, not run long distances.”
“It helps with endurance.” He claps a hand on my back, laughing when I get sick again.
There’s absolutely nothing left in my stomach, and if he thinks I’m actually going to make a routine of this he’s wrong.
“You’re worse than Coach.”
“Someone has to toughen you up,” he taunts, using the bench nearby to stretch his legs.
“I’m plenty tough.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, hating the taste of bile on my tongue but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.
He finishes stretching and we walk the last few blocks back to his townhome.
“See you later.” I unlock my car, heading for the driver’s side.
“Whoa, whoa, not so fast,” he chants after me, and I glance over my shoulder at him. He leans his hip against the back of my car, and I narrow my eyes at the spot where his flesh meets metal.
“Get your grubby body away from my car.”
He rolls his eyes at my dramatics. “All I want to say is, don’t be a pussy and give up after today. Meet me at the park tomorrow morning at five.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You better mean five in the evening,” I warn, eyes narrowed to slits.
He laughs uproariously, stroking his fingers lovingly against the cobalt blue paint of my car. “That’s real cute, Theodore.”
“Not Theodore,” I taunt. “I’ve been telling all of you that since freshman year.”
“Whatever,” he guffaws, walking toward the garage. “See you in the morning.”
“No, you won’t because I’m not coming.”
He laughs and laughs and he’s still laughing when I get in my car and back away.
Stupid bastard knows I’ll show up, because I hate letting people down.
I smooth my navy-blue tie down against my dry cleaned pale blue oxford and then slip my arms into my dark blue suit jacket. I’m sure my father will scoff at the varying shades of blue in my attire, but I don’t give a fuck.
Making sure my suit and everything is perfectly in place, not a hair on my head sticking in a wrong direction, I step out of my room, already prepared for Jude’s reaction.
He leans back on the sofa, a game playing in the background on the TV, and starts laughing as soon as he lays eyes on me.
Arms up, I spin in a circle, giving him every angle. “All right, all right. Get it out now.”
“Where the hell are you going?” He rubs a hand over his heavily stubbled jaw. The guy looks like he hasn’t seen a razor in at least a week.
I reach down and swipe a bottle of my Zombie Dust from the table in front of the couch and drain it, leveling him with a glare while I do. “Don’t touch my beer,” I warn.
It’s an empty threat. He steals my beer all the time, and I never do anything about it. It’s annoying, sure, but there are worse things in the world. Doesn’t mean I don’t like fucking with him.
“You didn’t answer.” He glides his fingers through his brown hair, waiting for me to reply.
“Some stupid brunch at the country club my parents own.”
“Sounds like hell.”
“Hell would be more fun and certainly warmer.”
He chuckles, already focused on the TV again. “Good luck with that.”