Page 12 of Hard to Love

“I’d really like that, are you sure? Well, I mean, I know what you just said, but you work.” Stumbling through her words only makes her more adorable; I chuckle as I exchange phones with her.

“Number, please. I’ll set mine. You know, we talked about everything except where exactly you live near Myrtle. Well, that and if you have family there.” Asking for future reference.

“Seriously, I don’t even think I know your last name. But yeah, I have two brothers. I will be moving into my own place when I get back home before I start to work. Close to home in Cherry Grove.” Handing me back my phone, I hand hers over.

“Killer. I’m not far from there; maybe I can give y’all a hand in moving. If that would work?”

Smiling, she replies quickly, “Sounds good.”

I take the opportunity to glance at my phone, making sure she hasn’t chickened out. Her name has me do a double-take. This can’t be right; no fucking way can this be right. I stare at my phone, trying to find an explanation for what I see; there is none.

“Your last name, it’s Hamilton. A Hamilton from Cherry Grove.” Desperately trying to keep my voice from breaking as my heart sinks.

“Yes. Do you know my family? Oh, maybe my oldest brother, One. Malone Woods?”

I begin to get dizzy, losing focus as everything spins. I’m at a loss for words but need to say something, anything. I gotta get out of here.

“I think I’ve heard of him. So Thayer Hamilton. I’m going to get my ass back to the beach. You have my name and number. Now, back inside before I go so, I know you’re safe.” I lean in, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Lingering long enough to remember her scent and the gentle curve of her face.

“Oh, okay. Well, bye.” Tiptoeing, she stretches for my lips, I’m sure. I turn my head at the last second as she lands on my cheek.

She looks shocked as she backs away, finally turning to walk through the door. Thayer texts me the next day after I decline her call. She thinks I’m working and can’t respond. I’m with her brother.

The following weeks are the same; she calls or texts every other day. I listen to her messages and read her texts. It gets to the point I look for them. Typing out a message that I never send is a daily occurrence for me.

Telling her the truth is the best thing to do, but then she’ll stop texting me. I can’t bring myself to do it, to ask her to stop. So I say nothing. I let her think whatever she wants to just so I can get her damn calls. I need to hear her voice, see her words when she texts me. Just for me.

I wallow in my own self-pity, feeling broken. I want her. I’ve made it a point to never enjoy a goddamn thing in life that I can’t give myself. But I’ll be damned if I don’t want Thayer. I need her in my life. However, I can have her.

Driving to Clemson the following weekend was a horrible mistake. I’ve watched her all weekend as she packed but never left her apartment. She studied by a lamp until early morning. The light from her phone lighting up minutes before mine would signal a new text.

I’m a selfish man, it turns out. I respond to every text, only to erase it before hitting send. It’s my way of having contact with her my body so badly craves. My long, dead heart leaps with every beep.

The drive home was long and lonely. There were no texts on Sunday. Beginning to worry, I struck up a conversation with Chord until I could work around asking about her. He told me nothing more than I already knew.

“She’s good, man. I didn’t know you knew Thayer, of course. One told you about her.” Chord’s response brought me up short. Why hadn’t One talked more about her? To keep me away from her because I’m not good enough. More than likely. I shouldn’t be surprised; I know I’m not good enough.

Late in the week, I hear the ping of my phone from across the worksite. Sadly, I race to it, checking immediately for Thayer’s text. One busts my ass about it. I really don’t care; I’d gladly be pussy-whipped by her.

“Damn, who the fuck you got lined up? Must be a prime piece of ass to make you run.” If he only knew, mother fucker wouldn’t be joking. He’d really get worked up in a whole other way.

“Shut the fuck up, you have no clue. What are you doing this weekend?” He looks everywhere but at me. What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weird for a couple of weeks now; it’s getting on my nerves.

“Nothing, man. Go have fun,” he barks at me as he walks away. One stays to himself the rest of the day; I wish he would talk to me. I know he will, but when, it’s hard to say. He’ll buckle first.

Taking time to savor every word, I step behind the building to read my text in private. It’s been a few weeks now; she’ll be coming home soon. Her text is simple, asking if I’m coming down. I am, but I’ll be staying far away.

Stalking has become my favorite pastime in the last two months. I’m very good at being stealthy. She’s packed and on her way home, according to One’s conversation with his mom. I wracked my brain for days, trying to figure how to tell him. I couldn’t do it; he’d know what she means to me.

On Friday, I continue my stalking. Thayer invites me to meet her at Celebrity Square at Myrtle Beach. Once there, she sets out to drive me insane. Thayer throws herself at some fucking asshole, not her brightest moment. The night ends with her in my bed until morning.

Now, here we are. I’m driving the long way home with a hard-on and the taste of Thayer on my lips. Having her wrapped around me as she comes only helped to convince me I have to have her.

Whatever it takes.

Chapter Eight

Thayer