Text Me (2 page)
“Not if I can help it.” Travis breathed in deep, let it out
in a slow, controlled hiss. “My dad’s the reason Sarah’s not talking to me
anymore.”
And the reason Mom left
. “At least I think that’s why. So it
stands to reason I really don’t want much to do with him at all. No, I’ll do
some more searching. But my father is an absolute last resort.”
Pete held up his hands. “Whatever. Got anything for us to do
tonight?”
Travis shook his head and closed the closet door. “I’m going
to do a little research, look for the most likely places to start our hunt. But
nothing you could really help with.”
Pete shot straight up, an eager look in his eyes. “So we’re
free tonight?”
“You’re free,” Travis corrected. “I’m doing the research.
But yeah, whatever you wanna do, go have fun.”
Pete gave a whoop and bounced off the bed. “Come on, you can
research later. Let’s go get that drink now. God knows I need cold beer and a
hot woman or two about now. I didn’t even get a chance to hook up with an old
fuck buddy before this trip.”
Travis shook his head, laughed a little. Neither suffered
from lack of women while in the States. But returning from a seven-month
deployment in Afghanistan, where the only ass a man could get came with four
legs and a tail, usually made a man horny enough to binge for days on good sex.
“You go, have fun. There’s a few bars within walking distance.”
Pete gave his shoulder a shove. “Come on. For fuck’s sake,
Trav, you didn’t hook up with anyone before we left for Philly either. I should
know, we usually switch halfway through the night. Just put The Great Sister
Search aside for one night and let’s have a good time.”
Just then, Trav’s phone vibrated on the desk where he’d tossed
the contents of his pocket. Both men looked at the cell, then at each other.
Pete shook his head. “Fine. You stay in and text with the imaginary girl of
your dreams who you will never meet. Meanwhile, I’m gonna go have a good time.”
He walked to the door and opened it before turning back. “And you’ll be
jealous,” he added with a wink, then shut the door behind him.
“Maybe,” Travis conceded to the empty room before picking up
the phone. But somehow he doubted it.
Chapter Two
Ariel’s unplanned nap was rudely interrupted when something
scratchy landed on top of her head. She’d fallen asleep while reading her
textbook and one of the pages was stuck to her cheek. As she jerked her head
back, the page ripped from the book.
Well, shit. That’ll take down the resale
value.
She replaced the page, making a mental note to tape it later, and
removed the scratchy item from her head.
It was a black tank top with sequins that she wore when she
went out. Looking around, she found the real source of the interruption. With
one shoulder propped against the doorway to her room, Mary Ellen stood and
watched. Her tiny friend’s auburn hair was tousled in that
I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-don’t-you-wish-it-was-yours look, her torso encased
in a hunter-green halter, and she wore what Ariel knew was Mary Ellen’s
favorite miniskirt with her tallest heels.
“All right, what gives?” she asked her friend as she held
the shirt up as evidence.
“It occurred to me that you haven’t really done much of
anything recently besides study and go to class and work at the camp. And then,
after that lightning bolt of realization struck, I also remembered that I
haven’t done much of anything besides work the stables and sit on my ass. So,”
she concluded with a firm nod, “we’re going out. We’re finding ourselves a hot
pair of men and we’re going to wash away our worries with orgasms and
cocktails. Probably not in that order, though.”
“We are?”
Mary Ellen nodded again and pointed to the shirt still
dangling from Ariel’s fingertips. “We are. Now put that thing on or pick out
something else that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a nerd with no social life’, pop in
your contacts so you’re not blind as a bat and let’s go out. No classes
tomorrow, nothing at the camp to show up for until breakfast crew. So come on.”
“Are you so horny that you’ve become desperate? Am I your
last hope of getting laid?” she joked.
“No, not my last hope. You know I love going out with you.”
Mary Ellen walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner and shrugged her
shoulders so her own shirt shifted down, displaying more cleavage. She looked
at Ariel through the reflection. “But horny, that I’ll cop to.”
Ariel laughed at that. Mary Ellen definitely had a healthy
sex life. And if it wasn’t for her friend’s prodding, Ariel wouldn’t have had
half the experiences she’d had herself. She wasn’t as naturally bold and
adventurous as Mary Ellen, but she was just as curious and driven by sexual
urges as the next red-blooded woman. With Mary Ellen by her side—her safety
buddy, they joked—it was easier.
She sat for a moment, ran a hand through her tangled hair.
She really should study, every second counted. But she was so burned out that
her books currently had more drool than highlighted notes in them. Maybe one
night out would help. And, blunt and crude though she was, Mary Ellen was
right. Her own “healthy sex life” had turned into more of a “healthy study
life”.
“Give me a few minutes to do something with myself and we
can go,” Ariel said, making up her mind. She went to the dresser and pulled out
a pair of jeans, tossing them on the bed. As they landed with a thump, her cell
phone beeped on her pillow.
“I’ll check it. You get dressed,” Mary Ellen said and pushed
Ariel toward the closet to pick out shoes. Though Ariel’s fingers itched to
check, she steeled herself against the irritating urge to look and forced
herself to pick out an outfit instead.
A few seconds later, still trying to decide between
skyscraper heels that would make her legs look better or lower heels that would
be more comfortable, she asked, “What was the text?”
A hint of amusement touched Mary Ellen’s voice as she asked,
“What type of places would a woman your age go to hang out? Where should I
look?”
“What?” Ariel popped her head back out to look at the other
woman, sitting on her bed.
Mary Ellen waved the cell phone. “That’s what the text says.
Oh,” she said, almost as an afterthought, though Ariel knew it was an act.
“It’s signed, ‘Trav’.” When Ariel didn’t say a word, Mary Ellen’s eyes
narrowed. “This is him, isn’t it? That guy you’ve been texting?”
“Maybe,” Ariel said, turning back to the closet. One of the
million curses of having pale skin was how easily she blushed. It was
impossible to hide with her cream complexion. And right then, her face felt
like it was on fire. Not that she knew why, since texting with Trav wasn’t
wrong. No, not in the slightest. Not at all. Nothing wrong with—
“I’m not an idiot. I can still see your neck and it’s
flaming red,” Mary Ellen said dryly.
Ariel just managed to not to rub the offending area. “Shut
up,” she muttered then grabbed the skyscraper heels and walked over to the bed.
She extended her hand, motioning for Mary Ellen to relinquish the phone.
“Playing with fire,” Mary Ellen murmured when Ariel flipped
the phone open to text back. “You going to deal with the faceless man all
night? Or come out and have fun with a real one?”
Ariel glanced at the phone, then at the shoes in her hands.
Either she’d been studying too long and her brain was fried, or the symbolism
of real full-color life and the vague ghost of a social life she could have
with Trav the Texter really existed. Did she stay at home and talk with someone
named Trav who might or might not even be who he said he was? Or go out with
her best friend and find someone who was real, flesh-and-blood and have the
opportunity for a good night of no-strings-attached sex?
Decision made, she closed her cell, shoved it into her bag
and picked up her jeans. “I’m in.”
* * * * *
When on the hunt for a man, the best place was the gender’s
natural watering hole. Also known as a sports bar.
Dance clubs with tiny tables and pink drinks were fun for a
girls’ night out. But when those girls wanted a man, or men…well, it stood to
reason you went where the men were.
At least that was Mary Ellen’s theory, devised from years of
experience.
Go where the men you want congregate
. Which brought Ariel
and her best friend to The Home Stretch, their favorite sports bar on Ariel’s
side of the city. Though the place was a testosterone trap with flat screens
showcasing various sporting events on them, dark wood and athletic memorabilia
on the walls, it wasn’t anti-female. There was no smoke in the air, the sound
of the games didn’t drown out conversation and the beers were both affordable
and didn’t taste like they came out of the bottom of a day-old keg.
Two light beers later, they’d commandeered a high-top table
near the big screens. The bar was warm and Ariel slipped her jacket off while
sniffing appreciatively at the pleasant smell of man. She took one long swig of
beer, relishing the taste. Mary Ellen wasn’t a fan and tended to nurse one beer
as long as possible. She’d have rather had a fruity cocktail, but swore it made
men less likely to approach because it screamed, “I’m high maintenance!” But
Ariel never minded a cold one after work or a long study session, though
getting drunk had never appealed to her.
“Are you on the prowl for someone specific tonight?” Ariel
asked.
“For someone specific in this place?”
Ah. Ariel knew immediately why her friend had been so desperate
to go out.
“What’d he do this time?” she asked softly. The “he” was
obvious between the two of them… Brice. Ariel’s brother.
Mary Ellen rolled her eyes, took a large drink and winced a
little as she put the bottle back down. “Same shit, different day.” Her voice
dropped, mimicking Brice’s deep timber. “We’re not supposed to be together,
Mary Ellen. We’re just not. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Just accept it.”
She took another sip, smaller this time, and her voice returned to its usual
pitch. “Bullshit. It’s all bull. He stares at me, he looks like he wants to
snap someone’s neck when I talk about going out with another guy. Tells me I
shouldn’t be dating or seeing so many guys. But will he grow a pair and ask me
out?”
“No,” Ariel replied.
“No!” Mary Ellen went on, as if Ariel hadn’t said a word.
“He won’t talk about why, he won’t give me a reason, but he hates that I don’t
just sit around waiting for him to man up.” She sat back, a pretty pout on her
lips, auburn hair swinging. “It sucks.”
“I know, sweetie.” Ariel rubbed her friend’s arm in comfort.
“But did you ever think that running out to have a one-nighter every time Brice
pisses you off isn’t the answer?”
“Hold it.” Ariel put up a hand. “We’re all adults and I’m
not deluding myself into thinking my brother’s a monk or something. But still,
can we lay off the sex references when referring to Brice?”
Her friend smiled. “Yeah, fine.” Sitting up straight, she
asked, “So, see anything that strikes your nerdy fancy?”
“Har har,” Ariel muttered. She didn’t really mind the nerd
label. She studied enough to earn it and it wasn’t given with malicious intent.
But still…at times she wished she could be done with school already. Actually
in a full-time job instead of full-time school plus work. Enough free time to
devote to an actual relationship instead of the occasional fling. But for now,
this was as good as it got. Besides, she hadn’t met anyone who made her want to
bust buns to fit a fulfilling relationship into the cracks of her life anyway.
Maybe she’d reevaluate if she did. For now…fun only.
Mary Ellen groaned. Before Ariel could ask what the problem
was, she heard a familiar voice over her shoulder and gave an inward groan to
match her friend’s.
“You ladies ready for another round yet?”
The problem with having one main place to go out for a drink
was that you often ran into the same people over and over again. Same staff,
which was convenient since the Home Stretch staff was helpful and fun. Same
regulars, most of whom were sweet if not invisible. But also the same assholes.
And one was stinking up the place right behind her.
“Hello, Mark,” Ariel said, pasting a polite—if a little
cool—smile on her face. “No, I think we’re fine right now, but thank you for
asking.” Hoping to cut off further conversation, knowing it probably wouldn’t
work, she deliberately turned her back on Mark the Married Moron.
Mark had been hitting on them almost since the first time
they came to the Home Stretch. Fortunately the bartender or one of the servers
would often run interference if they saw the women struggling with the leech.
Unfortunately it was busy and everyone appeared occupied, leaving them to cope on
their own.
Not taking the hint of his unwelcome status, he slid between
the two of them, draping an arm not-so-casually over their shoulders. “Ladies.
I’ve been coming to your table for months now. Every time you’re around, I ask
to buy you a drink. And yet you never take me up on it. Why is that?”
Mary Ellen removed his arm with delicate finality, using her
thumb and forefinger to pry the roaming digits from her shoulder. “For one,
you’re married.”
