She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 7: The Text

Ronnie

I’ve written and re-written a text to send to Jason about seventeen times now, but I just can’t settle on what I need to say to him. I want it to be friendly, but not too friendly. I don’t want to lead him on or give him the wrong impression, but I have no idea how to talk to guys.

It feels like there’s so much I should say, but I don’t even have words for it. Should I apologize? Confront him? Make sure he’s okay after whatever my mom said to him? Do I lead with what I’m feeling, explaining why I just can’t get involved with him right now, or should I wait to see what he even wants from me?

But a part of me already knows what he wants. Me. However much of me I’ll let him have, but he’d rather I gift wrap and deposit myself in his bed back home, ready to join his pack and be his.

And maybe that’s what’s keeping me from pushing send on any of these messages. I don’t want to go through this again, and I don’t want to put him through this again. I know it will only break his heart when I tell him I’m still not ready, and maybe I never will be. And in the process, it will mess with my head again, distract my focus, and leave me questioning what it is I even want from life. And I can’t have that.

I have enough questions and doubts swirling through my mind without him popping up to confuse me again. Plus, I have the next few years of my life all planned out, and he’s not mentioned anywhere in that plan. But if I let him start talking to me again, that might change. I can already feel it.

Seeing him again unsettled me. He’s easier to push aside and forget about when he’s not standing right in front of me, smelling so inviting. Looking so inviting. Being all cute and polite with my mom, making it seem like maybe there is someone out there she’d be okay with me dating, and it just happens to be my mate.

“It’s just a text,” I keep trying to tell myself. “I owe it to him,” I can’t help reminding myself. “Just say something, anything, and get it over with.”

But nothing feels right. And I feel increasingly more terrible about it the longer I wait. I know he’s waiting for me. He has to be. That look he gave me when he as much as said he’d be waiting for my text was genuine. Hopeful. Pleading. Heartbreaking. If I don’t do this one thing, and soon, it could destroy him. I may not want him, but I don’t want that either.

“Who are you texting?” I hear Amy say, and I realize she and Ashley have just barged into the bedroom I share with them.

“Your boyfriend?” Ashley taunts me, drawing out the words dramatically.

“It must be. She has the googly love face on,” Amy agrees with her twin.

“Come on, guys. Knock it off,” I scold them, frustrated by my lack of privacy. “I don't have a boyfriend. And what do you know about googly love faces anyway?”

“It’s what mom does when she’s talking to Warren,” Amy explains. “It looks like this.”

She makes an exaggerated expression, complete with a silly grin and fluttering her eyelashes.

“Who’s Warren?” I ask. I’ve never heard Mom mention anyone by that name, and she has never even alluded to the possibility that she could be dating someone.

They exchange a suspicious, knowing look between them and answer in unison, “No one!” before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

I can’t fight the urge to roll my eyes at them. I know they’re only ten, and I know that they have this incredibly close twin bond which often results in them ganging up on me like this, but I’m not in the mood for it today. There’s too much on my mind already.

“Would you guys mind leaving me alone for a bit?” I request as cheerfully as I can manage instead of pushing the issue further. I already know it won’t get me anywhere.

“Yep, we mind,” Amy answers at the same time that Ashley says, “It’s our room too.”

“What do you need us to leave for if you’re not texting your boyfriend?” Amy challenges me.

“Maybe we can help,” Ashley offers.

She and Amy don’t even look at each other before somehow each knowing what the other intends, moving in unison to climb up on my bed and sit down on either side of me, trapping me between them.

I try to tuck my phone away so they’ll just drop it, but Amy moves quicker than me. She grabs it out of my hand, already wiggling away so I can’t reach her.

“Oh, who’s Jason?” she asks suspiciously. “He’s super cute. You should make him your boyfriend.”

I can already tell nothing good is going to come of this judging by the mischief in her eyes.

“Give it back!” I demand. “That’s a private conversation.”

“It doesn’t even say anything,” Amy argues. “You haven’t even said hi yet.”

Thank goodness I had just erased the last message draft I was typing before they came in.

“Well, that’s rude,” Ashley scolds. “You have to say hi first.”

“You’re right,” Amy agrees with her, and it looks like she intends to start typing.

“No, come on. That’s mine, and none of your business. Give it back,” I demand again, much less patiently than the first time.

I push myself up off the bed because I know she’s about to run, and I need to be ready to pursue her. Sure enough, she giggles and takes off running out the door and down the hall.

The twins have seemingly limitless energy and spend most of their days running around together, but me on the other hand, I am far from a runner. I’m not as coordinated as Amy either, and she very skillfully manages to evade my pursuit of her through the house, dodging each time I lunge for her, and ducking under the table or behind furniture to stay out of my reach, giggling the whole way.

Well, at least one of us is having fun. I’m on the verge of a panic attack worrying what she might manage to send to him before I catch her.

She emerges from behind the couch, grinning at me victoriously, and tosses my phone back to me.

“I fixed it,” she sing-songs at me. “You’re welcome.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I rush to open my text conversation with him to see what she sent him, and nearly faint.

-

-

Jason

I’ve been checked into my new room and just killing time watching TV for a few hours when the long-awaited text finally comes through.

Hi. I think you’re really cute. Want to be my boyfriend?

Though I’d love to be delusional enough to just accept that at face value and enjoy the relief of knowing she feels the same as I do, I’m suspicious. Not only is this way more forward than I’m used to from Ronnie, but it sounds childish, which is definitely not like her. Remembering that Aly mentioned sisters that Ronnie babysits, and assuming that means that at least one of them is about the right age to write something like this, I decide to take a chance with my response.

Thanks, but I think you should give your sister’s phone back to her.

It’s less than a second later that I get another text that sounds a lot more like Ronnie.

I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t me, and I had nothing to do with it. My little sister stole my phone, and I had this conversation open because I was just about to text you.

And then another split-second later:

Oh thank God.

I can’t help laughing to myself about the whole thing. It’s so cute. I can just picture Ronnie sitting there panicking when she saw what her sister sent me, and then hurrying to explain herself, and then getting my text and realizing she was worried about nothing. Of course there was nothing to worry about. I know her better than that.

It’s no problem. We’ll pretend it never happened, though it was pretty cute, I send back to her, hoping she’ll relax a little and tell me what she meant to tell me in the first place.

Terrors. They’re identical little terrors, and I can’t escape them because I’m their babysitter. But I suppose they can be cute when they want to be.

I can only imagine. It makes me glad I only have one slightly younger sister.

Before I know it, I’ve found myself immersed in conversation with my mate once again, except this time she doesn’t cut me off after only a few messages. She asks about my family, what other siblings I have. I tell her about Sarah and Brian, not bothering to mention their mates because I'm sure that "mate" is the last word she wants to hear right now. She confesses that her sisters are biologically her cousins that her mom adopted when they were babies, and it just flows from there, the two of us finally taking the opportunity to learn some things about each other.

I’m surprised to learn that she was homeschooled all the way up through high school, and she had barely gotten a taste of formal education before her first semester away at college with Aly. I figured that with how much she seemed to love school, it was something she’d been doing her whole life. But I suppose it makes sense that she developed an appreciation for it because of how it differs from her homeschooling experience.

I detect a hint of wistful longing when she tells me of how she’ll miss living in the dorms. It’s surprising, since I don’t know anyone else who would say that, but I suppose when she has two nosy little sisters who are always around at home, the peace and quiet of having her own room would seem pretty heavenly.

You’ll have that again this fall when you start grad school though, right? I ask, both because I want her to have that to look forward to and because I’m curious what her plans are.

It will actually be cheaper to rent an apartment with roommates. I have a grant that is specifically for paying for that, she explains in response.

And then a few seconds later, I just hope I like my roommates. I haven’t had the best luck with them in the past.

Is that a dig at Aly? I tease her, already assuming she isn’t including her in that. I know those two adore each other.

No, she was the perfect roommate. I guess what I should say is my luck ran out after her.

We don’t chat much longer after that because she has to start making dinner for her and the twins, though it takes a lot of willpower on my end to fight back the urge to offer to just have dinner delivered to them so she doesn’t have to cook. I know it’s too soon to be getting that familiar with her, and she’d probably see it like I’m trying to push my way into her life. I know she hates to cook, but I also know she does it anyway. She’s been doing it for years. Don’t fix what isn’t broken, Jason.

I’m still left wondering how our conversation would have started if her sister hadn’t intervened, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that it started. And though everything in me wants to jump right into making plans to get together, I know that’s too risky. She’s given me a lot just sitting down and chatting with me. It’s too soon to push for more.

If I can get a handle on this whole hanging back and being patient thing, maybe, just maybe, I might stand an actual chance with her this time.