Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(26)

Casey: Good luck at the interview tomorrow.

What the hell?

My stomach knotted with a need. A need to reply. I didn't want to text him. I didn't want to think about him. Sometimes you don't get what you want or need, but sometimes you just can't tell the damn difference.

So much for pretending I didn't have his number.





Sunday, June 22, 2008


I COULDN'T KEEP PRETENDING I didn't have her number. It had been almost a month and she was all I thought about. If she didn't reply, or told me to f*ck off, I would have left her alone. Probably. But what I couldn't do was have her number in my phone and act like I didn't skate past it ten times a day anymore.

Honeybee: Thanks. How did you know about that?

Me: Micah. I overheard her talking to Cory about it. She said that she'd wanted it, but didn't want to travel. So she recommended you. Do you want to be away from home that much?

Honeybee: I like to travel.

ME: Me too. I've been doing a lot more of it for my job. I'm in Phoenix now.

There was radio silence for a while. This wasn't as easy as it was when we were together. Maybe, hopefully, this will work her out of my system and I wouldn't have to jerk thoughts of her out of my dick in the shower every morning.

Probably ten minutes went by before another message came through.

Honeybee: Well, thanks for the well wishes.

Me: I can't stop thinking about you.

Delete.

Me: It's nothing.

Honeybee: It's something. I almost erased your number. Like every day.

Now, that was something. These past few weeks I'd been going to trade shows, trying to get Bay's brand and name out there and into restaurants and bars outside San Francisco. It was nice being away. But every night I stood outside of my hotel room imagining what it would be like if she was on the other side of the door again. Wishing that she'd be there. It was getting pathetic.

Me: Why didn't you?

Honeybee: I don't know.

Me: I know the feeling.

And, f*ck, did I. Every time my phone rang I wanted it to be her. It never was.

Me: So are you married yet?

Delete.

Me: How are things going with the guy?

Another long pause. I should have stopped while I was ahead.

Honeybee: Fine.

Fine? That sounds really f*cking fun.

Her response didn't really convince me that she was all too ga-ga over the dude. Not that I thought we had a shot. We lived nowhere close to what would be deemed remotely proximal to one another, but morbidly, I liked the idea of her out there being just fine with him when she was way more than that with me.

Me: So you think about me every day, huh?

Honeybee: The truth?

I had been joking. Okay. Maybe not. Maybe I wanted to know if she was thinking about me. I sure as hell was thinking about her. It was getting tiresome and I needed to either make a move or let it go.

Ah, let it go. I love when people tell you to, “Let it go.” What bullshit. It's usually them who bring up the sensitive topic anyway. And you of all people know how bad you should just let it go, and you're trying your damnedest. Then, some know-it-all prick reminds you that you should, in fact, forget about it.

Let it go. Bullshit.

I say do the opposite. If someone can tell that you're thinking about something so much that they tell you to let it go. That's the f*cking thing you shouldn't. That's what's got you worked up.

That's the girl you should chase...hypothetically.

It's just, if one gets one's self in such a position where something is commandeering every waking thought that skirts around one's poor lonesome head, then you aren't working hard enough. Go get it.

Don't. Let. It. Go.

I realized this, about three minutes before I sent Blake that first message. I realized I had two options: Either be a chump and think about a girl who is with another man or be the other f*cking man.

Me: Good or bad. The truth.

Honeybee: I don't know why, but I can't let it go.

If I had been a person waiting for a sign, I would have just got it.

The bait.

I'd fight. I might lose. I might wish I'd let it go. But I wasn't going to be the old man with the regrets. I'd definitely be the old man. Maybe I'd even be alone. Maybe I'd be with someone else, but maybe, just maybe, I'd be with her a little more first.

Honeybee: You left before I woke up. You should have stayed.