Bad For You - Sherilee Gray Page 0,8

Shit, can we at least be friends?

Friends.

Ouch.

He thought I had nothing better to do than sit at home alone, reading on a Saturday night. For whatever reason, he kept trying to get me to talk to him. Maybe it was guilt? Maybe he wanted me to forgive him for the way things ended between us. Maybe I should? Probably. But I was done ignoring my own feelings to make other people feel better about themselves.

And as much as I wanted to forget the way Jesse ended it, I couldn’t. How could I when the feelings I’d had for him when we first met were still there?

I was trying to move on, to forget him, I was. But he wasn’t making it easy and asking me to be his friend was just another way of letting me know how over me he was. If he’d ever really cared at all.

And it hurt, dammit.

I snatched up the phone before I could think better of it.

Lila: Not reading, getting ready for a date. And as nice as the friendship offer is, I’ll pass.

Jesse: So you are alive?

Jesse: Who’s the guy?

Ignore him. Do not engage.

But dammit, I started typing again.

Lila: None of your business.

Jesse: How’d you meet. The library? What was he checking out? Let me guess…something from the science fiction section?

Heat crawled up my neck, anger firing through me. His implication was clear. Assuming someone who reads is a nerd or a geek was a weak stereotype. And a low blow.

He threw me away. He didn’t want me. And yeah, I could admit that maybe I’d mentioned Brooks because some sadistic part of me wanted to hurt him back, maybe even make him a little jealous. Ridiculous, I know. Why would he be jealous?

But I wasn’t an idiot, he was being a jerk to get me to engage with him.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from replying.

Lila: Actually, he’s a ranch hand. We met outside the library and he asked around for my number.

Jesse: Sounds like a stalker. What’s his name?

Lila: I’m not giving you his name. Who I date has nothing to do with you. And if anyone’s acting like a stalker, it’s you!

Jesse: What’s his name, Bambi?

Lila: I have to go.

Jesse: Bambi?

Jesse: Lila?

The next day…

Jesse: This old dude just farted in front of me. Loud, babe. Like it echoed off the walls. Dude jumped, actually gave himself a fright. Then he had the nerve to look at me. Like I did it! How do you not know you farted?

Several days after that…

Jesse: Why was the sand wet?

Jesse: Because the sea weed.

Another week and a lot more texting later…

Jesse: Heard there’s a storm coming your way. Don’t drive anywhere. Stay safe.

The next day…

Jesse: The town I’m in right now is really cool. Lotsa old buildings and shit. There’s this garden full of pink flowers. Made me think of you. Know you like pink.

Two days later…

I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the bedside table. It’d died during the night, so I plugged it in and waited for it to turn on.

A few minutes later it beeped several times in quick succession and I checked the screen.

Jesse.

He hadn’t stopped texting, usually once a day. It didn’t matter that I never replied.

I could have blocked him. I hadn’t.

His messages about his day the last two weeks were…entertaining. Some were funny. Others sweet. Getting those texts each day had started to make mine. Which meant I was in seriously dangerous waters. I needed to pull myself out, stop this now, but I was struggling. My resolve was wavering.

I scanned the first message. It’d come during the night.

1:28 a.m.

Jesse: Sometimes I just want to keep riding, forget the club, my family, my responsibilities. All the other bullshit, you know?

1:32 a.m.

Jesse: I know I did you wrong, babe. But shit, I need you to know you’re important to me.

1: 38 a.m.

Jesse: We’re friends, right, Bambi? Don’t think I could handle it if you never talked to me again.

1:48 a.m.

Jesse: Had a really shit day, Lila. Fuck, I wish I could talk to you.

I stared at his texts. Something was wrong.

This wasn’t like Jesse. It felt almost like—a cry for help. I chewed my lip, reading his words over again. I didn’t want to, but I still cared. I cared a lot. I didn’t know what he was doing or where he was, but Dane had said it was something to do with his brother.

Had something terrible happened?

I had to know he was okay.

Taking a deep breath, I