Text Me (6 page)

They headed their separate ways, Ariel continuing on to the
cabin she stayed at when she worked summers as a counselor or long weekends for
retreats. Her parents kept the cabin ready and open in case she ever needed a
place to crash.

Ariel walked the short distance to her small room and shut
the door behind her. Normally she’d let someone—either her parents or her
brother if it was late—know she was there. But she wasn’t in the mood for
company and conversation.

After a moment’s debate, Ariel stripped down to her panties
and crawled into bed. She rolled around, trying to get comfortable, and stared
at the rustic wood ceiling. Then remembering the message from earlier, decided
to check her phone. She reached in her bag, sitting on the floor next to the
bed, dumped the phone out and opened it while still flat on her back.

What are you doing now?

Trav

Moping.

Yeah, that was always sure to make him want to talk. But did
she actually want to? She sat for a moment, listening to the lack of sound
around her. She might not want the constant, well-meaning chatter of family or
friends. But the anonymity of a text wouldn’t be bad. She wouldn’t hurt
someone’s feelings by kicking them out of her cabin. When she’d had enough,
she’d just turn the phone off.

Trying to fall asleep. Not working.

Ariel

Tried counting something?

T

Nope. Just lying in bed.

A

No message came back. Ariel snorted and let the phone drop
onto the pillow beside her head. So much for the late-night entertainment. She
shifted onto her stomach and sighed. Why the hell was she so frustrated anyway?
Mary Ellen was right, she’d gotten what she was after for the night. Hot sex.
So why was she so bothered that she was home alone…again?

The beep of her phone next to her ear startled her and she
jolted. After letting her heart calm down, she picked up the phone and read the
message.

Are you alone?

Her heart picked back up again, but for an entirely
different reason. He wanted to know if she was alone? Innocent question, or
something more?

All by myself. Why?

She waited anxiously, hating that she was so curious. This
was a mystery guy that she would never meet. But then again, maybe that was
what she needed. The thought of her mystery Texter Trav taking a sexual
interest in her had her clamping her thighs together to keep the throbbing need
at bay.

I don’t like a crowd.

She felt a flush take over her cheeks. Arrogant…but she
liked it. Damn, she liked it. She wanted to hear more. Or, well, read more.

Her fingers were poised to return a comment when another
message popped up.

I’ll leave you with that thought. Good night.

Trav

“Grr!” Frustration boiled just under the surface but she
pushed it down. That was her problem, not his. Even if he started it…

She could end it. The phone made a soft thud as she tossed
it onto her bag on the floor and let her hand wander down her stomach.

Masculine hands came to her mind and she could picture them
slowly peeling down her panties as she did so herself. The warm air under the
covers became his hot breath as he nuzzled the inside of one thigh, pried her
legs apart. Long, strong fingers of the faceless Trav entered her slowly,
gathering moisture before using his tongue to softly circle her clit, teasing
as much as touching. Then her invisible lover picked up the speed and had her
hips rocking with the rhythm.

Ariel closed her eyes and let her mind and fingers take her
to a happy state. But when she relaxed, her mind replaced Trav’s vague features
with Donovan’s.

Her eyes popped open to stare once more at the ceiling. No.
No, no, no. One Night Stand Man didn’t belong in this fantasy. Stupid as it
was, it felt like cheating…even though she had absolutely no commitment to
either man.

She shifted and settled back down on the pillow, flexed her
hand and closed her eyes…

And saw Donovan’s face between her legs.

Dammit! That was not going to work. Knowing it was childish,
and not caring, she kicked the covers off the bed and let the night air cool
her heated skin. Then one thought flew through her mind and she couldn’t stop
laughing.

Fantasy Masturbation Fail.

* * * * *

Ariel grabbed a handful of forks and winced at the clatter
the silverware made. She hadn’t been drunk the night before, so no hangover.
But she also hadn’t slept much either, thanks to her inability to release
tension without Donovan horning in on her fantasy. The lack of release plus
lack of sleep left her in a bad mood.

“Wow, pissy much?” Mary Ellen asked as she glanced at
Ariel’s face. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

“Nothing.” Setting the breakfast table for retreat-goers was
not the time to bring up the inability to focus on a sexual fantasy. “So what
did you think of Goodwin?”

“He was nice,” she replied, setting plates on the long
banquet table in the dining hall. “Good timing when he showed up, right?”

“When who showed up?”

Brice, Ariel’s brother, walked up behind and gave her a peck
on the cheek before walking to the head of the table. He smelled like he’d just
come from the shower. His white polo with the camp’s logo on the front was a
stark contrast to his coffee-with-cream complexion.

Adopted at age twelve by the Winstons, Brice had been an
immediate fit. Social workers warned Ariel and her parents there would be some
adjustments, some acting out. But he simply slipped into their lives as
seamlessly as if he’d been born to her parents. Ariel loved to tell people he
was her brother and watch the mixture of shock and confusion flit over their
faces. Her, with her pale complexion standing next to Brice and his darker skin
from his mixed parentage proved a puzzle to many. She’d grown out of that
stage…mostly.

“Just a guy we met last night.” Mary Ellen answered Brice’s
question with an
It doesn’t matter
tone, though Ariel knew better. And
she suspected Brice did too.

Brice’s beautiful dark eyes narrowed. “Hitting up the bars
again?” Though the question could have been for either one, his focus was on
Mary Ellen.

“What’s it to you?” Mary Ellen set the last plate on the
table and stuck her hands on her hips.

“It’s nothing to me,” Brice replied, his voice barely
restrained, hands fisted at his sides.

Ariel knew that tone. There’d be blood soon. “He was a very
nice guy who helped us out when we needed some assistance.” She jumped in.

Brice swiveled his head to look at her. Then his eyes went
back to Mary Ellen. “Your attention seeking is going to get you in trouble one
day,” he warned.

“Ooo-kay,” Ariel said. She grabbed Mary Ellen’s arm before
her friend could lunge across the table and clock him. Which he would deserve.
“We’re done setting up for breakfast, so consider us relieved. We’ll be back
for dinner service.” Dragging a spitting-mad Mary Ellen with her, they left the
dining hall and walked up the dirt path to Mary Ellen’s cabin.

Mary Ellen flung the door open and stormed inside, pacing
the cabin floor like a caged tigress. Her ponytail whipped behind her with
every sharp turn.

“How dare he!” she fumed. “Stick up his ass…slow
poke…spiteful jackass…”

From experience, Ariel knew Mary Ellen would run out of steam
soon. But until then, she’d have more luck reasoning with a pile of rocks. So
she sat on her friend’s bed and waited for the storm to pass.

“Insensitive…thoughtless…”

She was winding down. No cursing.

Thirty seconds later, Mary Ellen plopped down on the bed,
sufficiently out of steam.

Ariel patted her knee. “Feel better?”

Mary Ellen shrugged. There was misery in her eyes and Ariel
had to wonder what it truly was that kept those two apart.

“All right. Your apprentice has the stable covered for the
day. We’re free until dinnertime. Let’s just go veg out. Buy some trashy
magazines, head over to The Grind, order some seriously good coffee and just
sit.” She hadn’t planned it, but the minute she made the suggestion, Ariel knew
she needed to relax as much as Mary Ellen did.

Mary Ellen stared at the headboard for a moment then nodded.
“Okay.”

As they grabbed their bags and traded their camp polos for
plain t-shirts, Ariel couldn’t help but be glad for another distraction from
thinking about last night.

* * * * *

Trav opened the door to yet another coffee shop. The smell
of grinding beans and the noise of baristas calling out names didn’t affect him
any longer. At the first coffee house, his mouth had watered. The second, he’d
given in and bought a coffee and muffin. Now on their twelfth coffee house of
the morning, the smell was barely noticeable.

Their search for Sarah had yielded zero results. Showing her
picture to baristas, he asked if she was a regular or if they’d ever seen her.
A few gave a vague “maybe” but most couldn’t say.

“Can we actually get something to eat here?” Pete muttered
behind him as Trav scanned the early lunch crowd. “That bagel I had at coffee
place number two evaporated four shops ago.”

“Yeah, sure. Just wait for a minute.” Trav took a table in
the corner where he could see the whole shop but he wasn’t easy to spot
himself. If Sarah was here, he didn’t want to spook her away before he got the
chance to talk to her, to ask her why she didn’t keep in contact or answer his
letters.

They settled at the table and Pete shuffled through an
abandoned section of the morning paper that had been left on his chair.

“Now can we get some food? I smell soup.”

“A few more minutes.” Trav scanned the crowd, looking for a
familiar face. Sarah’s. Or even one of her old friends that he might recognize
after all these years. But as he carefully scanned one table after another,
nothing jumped out.

“Aren’t those the girls from last night?”

“What?” Trav’s gaze shot to Pete. “Where?”

“Over on the couch,” he said and pointed.

Over on the… Holy shit. It was. His Mackenzie from last
night was there. Who the hell would have guessed? And she was with the redhead,
Ellen. Of all the luck.

“Let’s go say hi, see what they’re up to tonight.” Pete
grinned and started to get up.

Trav grabbed his arm. “Hold up. Just…hold up. Let’s wait a
bit.” He needed a second to breathe or he’d sprint over there and scare the
shit out of her.

Pete shrugged. “Whatever.” He leaned back in his chair and
opened the paper. “Let me know when I’m allowed to eat and-or talk to women
again,” he said, his eyes laughing.

This meant something. It had to. No phone numbers were
exchanged, no plans were made. But they’d said maybe they’d run into each
other, and there she was.

Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, she wore a
green t-shirt and khaki shorts. Her legs were pulled up under her on the couch
and she had a thick book balanced on her knees. Ellen sat to her left flipping
through a magazine with rapid-fire speed.

Ellen got up and said something to Mackenzie, then got in
line to order. A few moments later she sat back down and Mackenzie stood and
stretched. Her shirt raised with her arms and he caught a glimpse of the band
of skin over her waistband. His fingers itched to get in contact with that soft
patch of skin on her lower back, her ticklish spot. Then she headed to order
coffee as well.

“Now?” Pete asked, raising a brow.

“Let’s wait until they’re settled with their orders. We can
go, get something to eat and then walk by and be surprised. Ask them to join us
at the table.”

Pete shrugged again, absolutely no sign of anxiety on his
face.

Trav, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his leg from
twitching.

“Mary Ellen!” a barista called from the counter and the
redhead they knew only as Ellen walked over to take the drink.

“Mary Ellen?” Pete asked. Then he smiled. “Well, I’d shorten
it too. Sounds like something nuns came up with. Probably doesn’t give guys her
full name when she meets them in case they’re creeps. Smart move, actually.”

“Yeah,” Trav said, but he wasn’t paying attention. He kept
staring at Mackenzie’s long legs as she stretched them out on the coffee table.
Her head was turned sideways and she laughed at something Ellen—no, Mary
Ellen—said, her ponytail bobbing.

“Ariel!”

Trav froze. His breath caught in his chest. The world
continued moving but it was like he was watching from an aquarium. His vision
blurred, the noise was muted, unable to reach him over the blood pounding in
his ears.

No. There was no way. His text-girl couldn’t be here. But how
many Ariels could there be in the world?

“Why is that name familiar?” Pete asked.

“Shush,” Trav muttered and kept his eyes peeled. He felt his
heart drop into his gut when Mackenzie stood, walked over to the barista, took
the cup and gave a smiling thank-you.

“No fucking way,” he breathed.

“Seriously, why is that name familiar?” Pete asked again,
annoyance in his tone.

“Shut up, Pete. I’ll tell you later.”

It had to be a joke. Some sick joke. Or a coincidence.
They’d already had the fluke of running into the two girls from the night
before. Could this be just another moment of oddness? Fate laughing in his
face?

“Looks like they both chose fake names for us,” Pete
smirked. “Can’t blame them. I mean, we didn’t tell them our first names either.
So all around it makes sense.”