Bait (Wake, #1)(33)

Casey lived out of a suitcase and hadn't slept in his own bed for days. He sold beer and needed a haircut. All right, I liked the hair. He was two years older than Grant and me, yet he acted like he was twenty-one, I thought, but I didn't know him that well.

I stepped up to the mirror and wiped away the steam from the water, which was hot enough to distract me and clear my head for an evening with Grant.

I noticed my bangs were growing out fast. They needed trimming already. I made a snap decision to get the kitchen scissors and trim them myself.

After rifling through drawer after drawer, I finally found them in the dishwasher. I shut the dishwasher door and I saw my phone light up and heard it vibrate. Maybe it was him, but I told him I'd text first and so far he'd always waited. I hadn't wanted to be rude to Grant and text Casey back right in front of him. Grant wouldn't think anything of it. I text my family and friends all the time. He'd never acted the slightest bit jealous or suspicious.

Why would he then? And I'd be guilty, because I'd answer him. I just knew I would. I couldn't help myself.

The screen said I'd got a text, but the number didn’t jive with my contacts.

Unknown Number: Why are you texting my boyfriend?

I read. Blinked. Read it again. My heart raced.

Casey told me he was going to get a shower and something to eat. Then he'd be around later. I couldn't understand. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to delete it and block the number. I didn't want to respond.

I needed to take a shower. I needed to get ready for Grant.

Casey was someone's boyfriend. What the f*ck? I felt ill.

I'd known what we'd been doing was wrong on some level. All right. On every level. I'd been unfaithful to Grant, but I honestly hadn't thought about the girl Casey was with at Micah's since he’d said they'd broken up that night in my hotel room, when I was drunk.

I supposed things changed.

Maybe they'd gotten back together.

Maybe that was a different girl.

Maybe he lied about all of it. I felt a cold sweat break over my chest and back. I felt lightheaded. My clammy and nervous hands held the phone out in front of me and every time the light on the screen timed out, I'd press the button and swipe it open to re-read it over again. Minutes passed and I did it over and over.

It wasn't like I'd thought Casey and I would ever have a chance or that we'd even see each other again. Although, in the back of my mind, I thought it was possible if Micah and Cory ever got married. But that wouldn’t be for a while.

I hadn't spent a whole night with Grant since we started texting. Not that I was afraid of getting caught. Honestly, I wasn't. It was that I liked being alone and with Casey at the same time. I didn't want to be around anyone when he was giving me his warped brand of attention. It felt all my own. My crazy secret.

I loved talking, well texting him. Lately, it was the highlight of my day. Where I never wanted to talk to Grant when he asked me about anything and everything, Casey not asking made me want to tell him every minute detail. Having that small connection with him had been awesome. Every night I looked forward to hearing my phone buzz. I anticipated what he would text; he always told me the strangest things. Things I didn't even know I cared to know.

Some of his weird messages ran through my head.

Casey: Did you know that you can use semen for invisible ink?

Casey: I read that the inside of a female's nose plumps up when she's aroused. Like a nose boner. LOL

Casey: Bees have five eyeballs. Gross.

Casey: Only one state has one syllable. Maine. Boom. Betcha didn't know that.

I went to sleep happy every night.

Now seeing this message, although I had absolutely no right to be angry, I felt like I was the one who'd been cheated on.

How f*cked up was that?

A surge of some type of territorial feeling flooded me.

Me: I am texting your boyfriend because he sold me some line about Bait, and I think he's right.

Delete.

Me: Who is this? I think you have the wrong number.

Her: He calls you honeybee.

It wasn't a question. He called me honeybee in San Francisco and sometimes in our messages. She'd read our messages. She wasn't asking. Thank God for the most part they were harmless.

Thank God? What was I hoping? That he didn't get caught?

I don't know what I was thinking. I was so damn confused.

When I'd been typing the messages, I felt like I'd been good at staying in a friendly zone. But now thinking about them through this girlfriend person's eyes, they'd seemed anything but.

Unease moved straight into anger, then it turned around and headed to denial.

Me: We are only friends.

Her: Leave him alone.

Me: I told you we were just friends. I think he can decide on his own if I should leave him alone.

Girlfriend.

Yes, from that point forward that would be her official name. Not like his girlfriend. In my mind it sounded a lot more like bitch.

Her: He said you were nobody when I asked. That doesn't seem too friendly.

Bitch. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Who obviously cared about him enough to stand up for herself and their relationship.

Who does that make me?

Nobody? Casey's nobody? I'm nobody's nobody. I'm Grant's somebody.

My mind struggled with what she'd told me. Did I believe her? If I were her I would have said the same thing. Hell, I'd say anything to make me leave him alone.