Reagan

It was midweek, and I couldn’t get Carter off my mind since our double encounter on Friday. He’d snuck his way inside and made a home in my head. I wanted to evict him, but my stupid brain kept throwing thoughts of his smirk, his eyes, and his body at me like my own private porno.

Damn him for talking to me like we were friends. For even wanting to be friends in the first place. I couldn’t help but wish I’d taken him up on his offer of having lunch with him that day. Then maybe something he did would have disgusted me… though, even if he ate with his mouth open, I wasn’t sure my lust-filled brain would have been put off.

My brain was a hussy.

God. I needed help. A séance on my mind.

Sighing, I crossed my legs on the couch and picked up the remote. I was already in my pajamas, and it was only 6:00 p.m. However, I’d had a rough day at school, and I lost count of the times Elena glared at me, or Tom asked if I should seek professional help…. I mean, he only caught me jumping on my desk and screaming while a mouse ran around the room. I wasn’t the only one freaking out either. Wesley’s scream had been higher-pitched than mine. If anything, I expected Tom’s question on Monday, post my Carter debacle. Not even once did he mention naked yoga. He probably thought Dad would have given me a good talking to about it, but really, he should know better by now. My parents were just as crazy as I was.

My phone chimed, breaking through my thoughts. I assumed it was Brooke or my parents since they were the only ones who rang or text me. God, I sounded pathetic. But when I picked it up, I saw Carter’s name flash over the screen.

My heart plummeted into my stomach and caused it to swirl in a tornado of nerves. How his number was in my phone I didn’t know, but if I had to guess it would be on Brooke.

Carter Anthony had texted.

Me.

Damn my hands for shaking, but they were, and it was because it was Carter Anthony!

Having seen him at the bar the same day of my disaster with him at school had been a surprise. What shocked me even more was how quickly he returned to our table after talking with Elena. I was sure she’d sink her claws in some way, and he’d be with her all night. However, it was as if he didn’t like what she offered—and everyone knew she’d offer something; instead, he came back to our table. He didn’t even glance at Elena again, with the exception of his friends mocking him for his choice in exes.

Should I open the text? What does he want? Why did he text me? What if he texted the wrong person? He might have been texting a friend called Reginald, and his name would have been right next to mine.

Shit. I may have received Reginald’s text by mistake.

Holy crapoly, I needed to calm the hell down.

Sucking in a deep breath, I opened the text.

Carter: Hey, what have you been up to?

How had I been? Was he asking me or someone else by mistake? What did I do? Should I reply?

Biting my bottom lip, I texted back. Not much, you?

There. It was nice and simple. So in case he’d sent it to me by mistake, he’d see my name pop up, and the mistake could be easily fixed because neither of us texted anything weird.

My whole body jolted when my phone chimed. I fumbled it a bit and then held it against my chest. I glanced around my empty house as if there were someone else here seeing my klutzy moves over a guy texting me.

But come on, it’s Carter Anthony…. I really had to stop saying his whole name in my head. It was like his whole name held power. I guess in a way it did; it certainly caused my body to hum to life.

Carter: Just relaxing after practice. How was school today?

Thank God, he knew it was actually me he was texting… unless he knew another school teacher.

Shit. I had to stop doubting myself. Carter Anthony could have texted me on purpose.

After all, he’d said he wanted to be friends.

Me: Good. Well, except for the mouse running around my classroom and Tom finding me screaming and standing on my desk. I sent that off and then another quickly after. Oh, and tripping up the steps falling to my knees where my face nearly came closely acquainted with Steve’s crotch. The kids have already started a story I was giving a BJ on the steps.

Shit, shit, shit. Why did I tell him that?

Even in texts I blurted out too much, and he probably thought I was getting it on with stinky Steve. Should I add I wasn’t? My mouth was nowhere near his junk. If it had been, I was sure I’d vomit all over it since I was sure he smelled even worse in that area. I dry heaved at the thought.

He didn’t reply.

Why wasn’t he replying?

Had I scared him away?

Did he actually think I gave head on school property?

Could I text him again?

Would that seem too clingy?

Then again, how would it seem clingy since he’d texted me in the first place?

Me: Carter?

At least through a text he couldn’t see my panic, the sweat forming on my brow, or hear my heavy breathing.

I let out a little yip when my phone chimed. Carter: Sorry, I was too busy dying from laughter. Only those sorts of things could happen to you. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out from being so close to the Steve smell.

I smiled widely. It was so big that if anyone were around, they could probably see all of my teeth.

Me: Ha ha, laugh it up. If you come to the school ever again, I’ll make sure Steve knows you want a hug. Then you can be on the verge of vomiting.

Carter: Shudder. No thank you.

Me: How was practice? I heard you won the game on the weekend. Good job, you.

Carter: Thanks. What do you mean heard? I thought you would have watched. ;)

Me: Well, I would have… maybe, if I hadn’t been forced to help my parents paint. Actually, I didn’t have to help; they bribed me with a home cooked meal.

Carter: I don’t blame you for that. How did you hear we won then?

Me: Dad’s a fan. Your team is the Wolves, right? I really knew for certain Carter played for the Wolves. I just didn’t want to come across as I knew everything about him. After all, it was Brooke who stalked him online.

At my parents, I’d been surprised when I’d caught Dad talking on the phone to Tom about the kickass—his words, not mine—game the Wolves played. When he got off the phone, I asked him if the Wolves were his favorite team. He looked at me like I’d grown two heads and asked if I’d been living under a rock. I took that as a yes. He then proceeded to fill me in on the game. Of course, I zoned. He gave up when I started humming under my breath and told me to get back to work.

Carter: Yes, woman. Say, what are your plans this weekend?

Rolling my eyes, I bit my bottom lip to stop the ache in my jaw from the continuous grinning. Texting with Carter was easy. Fun even.

Me: Going to a game like I said I would.

Carter: Good! Make sure you go to the information booth and have ID on you. I’ll leave a ticket there for you and Brooke.

Wow. That was nice.

Me: Um. Thank you.

Carter: You’re welcome. I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk soon.

Me: Okay. Bye.

Carter: Later :)

When Carter had said we’d talk soon, I thought it would be maybe the Sunday of his game. Instead, it was the next night; only he decided to call. My belly swirled with nervous butterflies, or it could have been gas, regardless, I pulled up my big girl panties to answer.

“H-hello?” I whispered. Why I said it in a whisper, I didn’t know.

“Hey. Am I interrupting something?”

Even though his deep rough voice woke up my lady bits, the question threw me. I was doing my usual channel surfing before Supernatural came on, so I had no idea why he thought he’d be interrupting something.

“No. I’m not doing much.”

Should I have said that? Maybe I should have made up I was doing something exciting like… pole dancing. An image of Elena popped into my head, and I shuddered.

“So, what are you doing?” he asked.

Frantically, I went through the search engine of my brain to think of something other than sitting on the couch being lazy. In the end, I come to the conclusion that if Carter cared that I was relaxing with wine and waiting for hot men on TV, then he wasn’t meant to be in my life. He had to accept me for me.

That’s what friends did, right?

So I told him the truth. “Sitting on the couch with papers I need to grade, but I’m putting them off because my show is coming on soon. Ah, what about you?”

“What show?” he asked.

“Supernatural.”

He chuckled. “What’s that about?”

I gasped. “You’ve never seen Supernatural?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“You… what… how can that be so?”

Another deep chuckle followed, one I liked hearing a bit too much. Just friends.

“I’m more of an action movie, documentary-watching kind of guy.”

My nose scrunched up.

He let out another chuckle. “I just bet you’re pulling a face at that. It’s all right, we can compromise.”

Compromise?

Why would we need to?

That didn’t make sense.

He couldn’t mean we’d be watching something together, could he?

Why would he want to?

“Reagan?”

“Sorry… I, um, does that mean you’ll give Supernatural a try one time?”

My eyes widened. Why did I just ask that? Maybe because I thought everyone should at least try to watch Supernatural just once. Dean and Sam were worth sixty minutes of everyone’s time.

“Sure, I’ll give it a go.” When he spoke, it sounded like he was smiling.

“Okay,” I breathed. Carter wanted to spend time with me. It deserved a breathy moment.

Still, friends watched shows together. They talked like we were currently. They teased. Laughed at one another.

Shit, I shouldn’t have gotten breathy on the phone with him.

Could he tell I liked the thought of having time with him by my voice?

I hoped he couldn’t read me that well, but if he did, I was screwed.

I needed to change the subject to calm my mind. “You, ah, didn’t tell me what you were doing.”

“I just got out of the shower.” That damn well didn’t help my mind settle. It was impossible. Picturing him naked in a shower, toweling his naked body dry, but he’d miss a few drops that I would have to lick up…. No, no, no, do not go there, Reagan. Think of something else. Him pooping. Sitting on the toilet and straining…. okay, I’m good now. That’s a thought my mind should never have ventured. “And now I’m going to get some sleep.”

Damn Carter Anthony and his evilness.

Carter… in my bed.

“I have to go,” I blurted.

“Everything okay?” He sounded legitimately concerned, and I felt bad as everything was okay, except for my filthy mind.

“Y-yes. I’m good, I ah, just really should grade some papers before Dean—”

“Who’s Dean?” he demanded, his tone low and growly.

Oh my.

Smiling to myself, I said, “He’s—”

“Do I know him?”

“No, he’s—”

“Is he from high school?”

I laughed. “Carter—”

“A friend?”

“If you just let me—”

“A boyfriend?”

Sheesh, why did he sound so tense?

“Carter,” I called loudly through the phone.

“Yes?”

“Dean is from the show Supernatural.”

Silence.

I started giggling.

“Oh,” he said.

“But just because we’re becoming friends doesn’t mean I can’t have others,” I stated, since he seemed so concerned another could replace him. Which was really weird since we’d only been in each other’s lives for less than a week.

I paused, thinking about something Brooke had said. Did Carter fancy me?

Nope. Nuh-uh.

That was laughable.

He was a football god and dated models.

I was an English teacher and hardly dated at all.

“Right, yeah, I know that… but do you have other male friends?”

I bit my bottom lip. My mind wanted to crash into the thought of Carter wanting me, but my heart pulled on the reins and said, “Whoa.”

“Reagan?”

“No. I don’t. In fact, I don’t have many close friends besides Brooke, and, well, my parents. But they have to put up with me since they brought me into the world.”

He snorted. “I say the same to my folks.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’ll let you go. I’ve got to be up early for training. If I don’t talk to you before Sunday, I’ll see you then.”

“Sounds good.” Crap, was that too forward? “Ah, buddy,” I quickly added. His burst of laughter followed before I hung up the phone.

God. I really had to stick to just texting the poor guy, or he would end up knowing I was a head case.