Head Over Feels

“I’m not going out, calling, or falling, asshole. I want to help Tealey settle in. It’s her first night at the apartment.”

“Way to let a guy down. I thought I was going to get some juicy details.” He opens the door to the car. “Not that Tealey’s disappointing, but you know what I mean. She’s . . . just Tealey.”

“Yeah. Just Tealey.” My throat thickens, the words leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

Getting in his car, he starts it and rolls down the windows. “When you’re ready for your second session, give me a text.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I open the car door. “Any words of wisdom before I go?”

“You’re asking a guy who’s getting married soon. I’m smack dab in the middle of mixed-up emotions and taco Tuesdays.” I imagine that wasn’t the dream he had growing up.

“So no second thoughts?”

Cade shakes his head, his hands gripping the wheel. “Nope. I have it good, and I know it. I’m not going to lose it.”

“Cammie’s a catch.”

“She is.” Leaning over the console, he eyes me through the passenger side of his vehicle. “If you’re not going to tell me who the unlucky lady is, then the next time you need advice—”

“I’ll go to Jackson.”

Shooting me the bird, he laughs. “Probably best.”

Chuckling, I say, “The city beckons.”

“Thanks for slumming it. Good luck, brother.”

“Thanks.” I’m going to need it.

Rocks crunch under the weight of his tires when he pulls away. I stay a minute longer, taking in the view and sitting with my thoughts. I’m not in love with Tealey.

It’s just a heavy dose of attraction.

And complicated, like we’ve been since the moment we met. The risk outweighs everything. I’m not willing to lose what we have—and what we’re currently building—by fucking her and expecting it to be the same as it is now. That’s what will happen if we cross that line. I’d only hurt her and disappoint her. I don’t do relationships, and she doesn’t seem to go without very long.

No way. I’m not a relationship guy.

The screen in my car comes to life with a text from Tealey: I can’t believe you’ve never read Harry Potter.

I start laughing and record a text to send: He played Quidditch, and I played squash. We had nothing in common to inspire me to spend that much time with him.

Tealey: I’m impressed by the Potter reference. Thank you for lunch. The soup was good. The company, even better.

Me: You’re welcome, but the pleasure was mine.

Tealey: *rolling eyes emoji* Save the charm for your ladies.

Me: I don’t have ladies, but I do know this great woman who can be quite charming herself.

Tealey: You’re making me jealous *winky emoji*

Me: Spoiler alert: it’s you. *winky emoji*

Tealey: See? Charming.

Me: I’ll take charming for $200.

Tealey: Who is Rad Wellington?

Love is definitely ruled out. Love can’t be this much fun. I deal with the aftermath of experiencing it every day.

Tealey: This has been fun, but sadly, I need to run. Thanks again for lunch. It was a great surprise to see you. Maybe I’ll see you tonight if you don’t have to work too late.

Me: We’ll see how things go. Make yourself at home.

I drive away, letting her texts mix with Cade’s wisdom. That’s probably not a wise idea, but it’s all I’ve got, and he just might be right.

Despite the years of friendship, Tealey’s and my relationship feels different, like riding a roller coaster that sends you soaring and your stomach dropping.

Whatever this is, she has me seeing things, and by things, I’m referring to us, in a whole new light.

13

Tealey

Moving sucks.

Unless it’s to one of the most beautiful residential streets in Manhattan.

The driver helped me unload the five boxes I managed to cram in the car with me, and I scooted each one inside the door to the building. Though the lobby is small, it’s airy, and it almost gives it an atrium feel instead of a place to enter or check your mail. Light floods through the black-framed floor-to-ceiling windows, and the shadows from the surrounding buildings crawl across the walls. The plants are a welcoming touch.

I get the boxes in the elevator, and when the door opens to his apartment, I turn off the alarm system. Using one foot as a doorstop, I shuffle the boxes into the apartment.

The elevator buzzing subsides, replaced by the sound of the door closing behind me. And then silence.

Staring down the short hall into the space, I smile, feeling like I’ve finally made it in this city. It’s a delusion I’m perfectly content existing inside of while living here.

I kick off my sneakers and then sashay into the living room like I’m the queen of the castle and go straight for the windows. The sun is hidden behind the tops of the buildings, but there’s enough light to see ten blocks down the avenue in one direction and probably more in the other.