Hoax in One

| 10 |

Forget what I said about the first week being the longest. The next week was even longer than the week before. And it was a short week.

I'd gotten the taste of having Tate back in my life, but satisfying my cravings was hard with his schedule. So he had invaded my thoughts instead.

Tuesday he'd been in classes all morning, practice all afternoon, and the gym in the evening. I'd texted him a picture of us that I'd taken at the beach. He commented back about my real smile—the one he'd pulled out of me.

My smile fell later that day when Alice told me she and Matt had broken up—over me. Alice was so nonchalant when she explained Matt couldn't stop watching me and Tate, so he was clearly not over me. She couldn't be bothered though. She was already crushing on one of Tate's teammates because she now understood what was 'so fucking hot' about golfers and their attitude (thanks to me and Millie) and she wasn't giving Matt another thought. Just like I had predicted; it fizzled.

Wednesday I asked Tate if he wanted to get pizza, but he had a team meeting and a group project.

Thursday I had reached deranged desperation, wondering if he was avoiding me. I couldn't be the first one to text him every day. I felt like some athlete groupie—no, a Tate groupie.

The amount of texts that man got when we used to hang out was insane. Girls were always checking if he was free, if he was single, if he would be at some party the next weekend. He was good about living in the present moment and trying his best not to bury his head in his phone when he was with me, but the constant buzzing didn't go unnoticed.

I couldn't turn into one of those girls just because I had maddening and puzzling feelings toward him and he had revealed cryptic thoughts in his inebriated state.

So Thursday was the day I was not going to text him. I probably glanced at my phone one hundred times, but I hoped he was doing the same thing—stewing and exasperated—waiting for my text that wouldn't come.

Now how long could I hold out?

By four p.m. I needed to distract myself because I'd get my hopes up every time my phone made a noise, so I made my way to the library to study. I'd covered half a chapter of my history textbook when my phone buzzed beside me at five, and Tate's name graced my home screen.

The loop my stomach made pulled my belly button in tight. I swiped my phone open to see a picture of what looked like a wooden library chair and the text from Tate said, Studying would be a whole lot better if you were here.

He was within a one hundred foot radius—right, left, up, down—who knows. But the sudden cognizance was infinitely better than knowing he was within a fifty mile one.

I replied with a picture of my textbook and just enough of the background for him to see that I was also in the library.

Come find me, I added.

Leave him wanting more and make him come to me—because I was a seductive, mysterious, blonde vixen, of course. I could take a page or two out of Millie and Alice's playbook when I wanted to. I didn't have to be dumb and blonde and wearing my heart on my sleeve all the time.

Five minutes later he replied, I hope you're not messing with me. I've already covered two floors.

He must have started on the first floor because I was on the third. All of my attention was focused on the door with the anticipation of seeing Tate come in the door before he would see me mounting.

"Devin."

My excitement was sucked out of every pore. Matt made my name sound like he'd poured honey over a distraught wail.