The Not-Outcast by Tijan

7

Cheyenne

Unknown: It’s true?

The first text woke me.

I checked the time. It was just past midnight.

A second text buzzed in as I was sitting up.

Unknown: You’re Chad’s stepsister? Cheyenne.

I was going out on a limb here…

Me: This is Cut?

Unknown: Yes. I saw you, sent him to grab your digits for me. He recognized you.

Cut: You’re Chad’s sister?

Me: Technically, no. Deek and his mom divorced.

Cut: Same thing. Both Hunter’s siblings.

I sighed.

Me: Yes.

Cut: That’s why you ditched?

I paused. If I said yes, I’d be lying. I didn’t like liars.

Gah. Another sigh.

Me: No.

He didn’t text again that night.

* * *

The text camethe next day, at nine in the morning.

Cut: Why then?

I’d just pulled into Come Our Way’s parking lot and turned the engine off. Grabbing my phone, I almost oversipped my coffee at the same time. Crap. I usually sipped with caution. My favorite coffee place liked to overheat the heat, you know? It burned my throat, but I read his text and felt a different sort of burning.

Regret.

And need. Sexual need.

Not heart need, because I was still clamping down on the feelings department there. And go me because that took effort. A lot of effort.

Six times, folks. Six. Times.

I sat back and typed.

Me: I don’t like liars.

Cut: I’m not a liar.

Me: No. I know you aren’t. I’m setting the parameters.

Cut: What parameters? I want to know why you ditched.

Me: And I’m trying to explain my response ahead of time.

A pause.

Cut: The fuck?

I grinned at that.

Me: I don’t want to tell you why.

Cut: Why?

A third sigh from these text messages.

Me: Just...I can’t explain.

I waited.

And waited.

I sat in my car and I gripped my phone, and I kept waiting because this time I wanted him to respond.

I needed him to respond.

He didn’t respond.

* * *

His response cameat six that evening.

Cut: Dinner.

I was serving dinner to those at the shelter, felt my phone buzz, and stepped away from the line. There was a volunteer helping out, so I headed for my office and read his text.

Me: ?

Cut: Explain over dinner.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say, but I was feeling things. I was doing all sorts of feeling. My heart was starting to pound in my chest. My hands got clammy.

He wanted to still see me?

I didn’t know how I felt. A wave of relief, but nerves all jumbled together.

Cut: You are the one who rolled out of my bed.

A fourth sigh.

Me: Fine. When for dinner?

Cut: Thursday night. We’re away, then volunteer at your place Wednesday and Thursday. I can do that night and I’m on the road again this weekend.

My stomach started doing somersaults because whoa. I’d get to see him three times this week. A group of them were volunteering for the brunch shift, and they had a home game on Thursday.

Cut: After the game that night.

Then that would most likely be drinks, not dinner. I guess he ate late, probably needing the calories after his game.

I already knew what I was going to say, hence the sweaty palms and the hitch that turned into a wheeze in my breathing, and I could’ve pulled my own hair out from the nerves. So. Many. Feelings! It was almost too much and this was just over texting. Hence, why I rolled and ran that morning.

Me: Fine.

Cut: You’ll be at the game? Or that last game was a fluke?

Me: Yes. I’ll be there. Same seats.

Cut: Get a ride there. I’ll drive us after.

Just like that, I had a date.

My hands were now shaking and sweaty.