Read Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1) Online
Authors: T. K. Rapp
“I really like you,
Tabor. A lot. And I
do
want to get to
know you,” I said before chancing a glimpse at him.
“Good.” He smirked, not
looking at me. “When I told Abbi about you, she said you sounded too good to be
true. Maybe you are.”
“You know, my sister
would like you, too,” I scoffed nervously.
He turned to face me,
with wide eyes and his charming smile. “Is that your way of inviting me to
dinner at your parents’?” he teased and my cheeks flamed hot.
“I…didn’t…I mean,” I
stammered.
“I accept,” he answered
before I could argue and turned back to the shelves. “Let’s start making that
list.”
“Well played, Mr.
Hunter,” I quipped. “Well played.”
D A N I
“We need to talk,” I
said to my parents, taking a seat across from them in the living room of my
childhood home. Dad closed his eyes briefly, as if preparing for the worst, and
Mom’s chin lifted slightly, making her appear stoic. I almost laughed when Dad
reached over to Mom’s hand and squeezed.
“What is it, baby?” Mom
finally asked, her voice shaking slightly. “Are you sick?”
“No, of course not,” I
answered sympathetically. It wasn’t something I had considered they would
assume, and I realized I’d planned the reveal poorly.
“I met someone,” I
started out slowly. It was a delicate situation that needed to be handled as
such.
“Is
she
good to you?” Dad asked sweetly.
I sat wide-eyed, unable
to speak for a moment before I burst out laughing. Tears were streaming down my
face as my parents exchanged confused looks and glanced at me again. All I
could do was laugh and shake my head, adding to the confusion.
“I’m not coming out,
Dad,” I said through my laughter. “But it’s nice to know I’d have your support
if I was.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed
slightly and she studied me while I tried to rein in my laughter. “Okay, you’re
not sick and you’re not a lesbian…so why is this a conversation that requires
us to sit down?”
“I just needed to tell
you in person—and for the record, it’s a guy,” I said. “But there’s
more.”
“You’re scaring me,” Mom
finally admitted. “Are you pregnant?”
“No!” I laughed again.
“Jeez, Mom! Will you let me get this out?”
I took a few deep
breaths and sobered. My parents were growing impatient with me, and I closed my
eyes in anticipation of what was to come. I exhaled and looked at both of them
before speaking.
“His name is Tabor. But
people around here just know him as JT Hunter.”
Mom and Dad looked at
each other and remained quiet for a second before rolling their eyes and
sitting back in their seats.
“Tessa, can you believe
this?” Dad asked Mom and then looked at me. “Did Gracie put you up to this? Do
you even know who that is?” Dad teased and patted Mom’s knee.
I sat in front of them
quietly while they debated back and forth how I came up with the scheme. I was
mildly amused, but also offended. Did they think it was out of the realm of
possibility?
Probably
.
Hell, I thought so too,
until it happened.
“I know who he is,” I
finally said. “And for some crazy-ass reason, he likes me.”
“Of course he does,” Dad
placated. “Are you hungry?” He stood up and walked to the kitchen with Mom hot
on his heels. The child in me wanted to jump up and down in protest, but it
would get me nowhere.
“You don’t believe me,”
I said, walking after them.
“Honey, you hate
football,” he argued as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Why does everyone keep
saying that? I don’t hate football, I just don’t follow or worship it like you
people do.”
“Sundays are reserved
for two things in this house,” Mom said.
“I know—church and
football,” I finished as I rolled my eyes.
“Church and family,” she
corrected. “Your dad adds football, but it’s a distant third to the others.”
She kissed my cheek and continued scurrying about the kitchen.
“So what brings you by
on a Thursday?” Dad asked, as if he hadn’t heard me moments ago.
I pulled out my phone
and found a picture I had asked Tabor to take with me while we were at the
school. I wasn’t sure he still wanted to hang out when I put the
F
word out there. But then he made me
fall for him a little more when he told me
“I’d
rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”
It took every ounce of
willpower not to throw myself at him and beg for a redo.
But if Tabor was really
going to meet my family, I needed to prepare them. Anticipating their
disbelief, I had come prepared. Luckily, Tabor had obliged, and I was glad to
have the picture. He said that he abhorred “selfies,” but willingly gave in
when I explained.
“Dad—who is this?”
I asked, handing him my phone.
He glanced at the screen
and gave it back to me before looking at the kitchen television. I waited for
recognition to hit him, and when it did, I didn’t bother stifling my laughter.
He turned to face me and looked at the device in my hand and back to me.
“Why do you have a
picture with JT Hunter?”
“His name is Tabor,” I
answered.
“That’s JT Hunter,” he
repeated, more for himself than for me.
“Yes.”
“And you,” he added, as
if I didn’t know.
“Yes.”
“Dani…why are you with
JT Hunter?”
“We’re sort of friends,”
I answered with a small smile.
Dad snatched the phone
from my hand and studied the image, and looked at me again in disbelief. Mom
walked over to look at the picture too and grinned her approval.
“You….and…him. JT
Hunter?” he questioned.
“Me. And Tabor,” I
corrected. “Look, he’s just a regular guy,” I regurgitated the lines my friends
had spewed while trying to convince me to date Tabor.
“You’re dating JT
Hunter,” he clarified. “My daughter is dating JT Hunter? But…how?”
“We’re friends, Dad.
Just friends,” I defended. Admitting the truth out loud was like a punch to the
gut and I hated it.
I began by telling Dad
the true story of the flat tire.
“
He
was the stranger you mentioned?” he asked with a confused look.
“You knew about this?”
Mom asked him, but he shook his head and she looked at me for answers.
“I didn’t know who he was.
He pulled over to help me and asked me out on a date. He was so nice and I just
gave him my number,” I admitted.
Mom’s dreamy look likely
matched my own, but then again, Dad looked like he might have a bigger crush on
Tabor than I did. He sat back in his chair, winded, looking like he’d run a
triathlon.
“Are you okay?” I
finally asked.
“I always knew he was
good guy,” Dad beamed. “And now my daughter is dating him?”
“Friends,” I repeated. I
knew it was something I was going to remind him of again and again, and every
time I did, it was going to sting a little. I looked up to the ceiling, bracing
myself for the next hurdle. I took a deep, steadying breath and bit my lip
before speaking.
“Which brings me back to
your question about why I’m here. I…sort of invited him over for dinner
tomorrow night,” I admitted.
Mom’s back went rigid
and I knew she’d heard me. It was only a matter of time until she lost her mind
and ran around frantically.
“JT Hunter is coming
here?” Dad asked. “Dani, if you’re joking with me, I might die of a broken
heart.”
“Mom. Dad. I’m serious,
you have to treat him like any other guy,” I demanded. “Tabor is really sweet
and we’re still getting to know each other. I just need you to be cool. Can you
do that?”
The kitchen faucet was
running, but Mom hadn’t moved since I’d mentioned Tabor being a guest. I walked
over and shut the water off for her and leaned my back against the counter to
see her face.
“You okay?” I asked,
taking in her shocked state. Mom was always prepared and readily opened the
home to anyone and everyone, but I knew I’d thrown her for a loop. “Mom?”
“Tomorrow?” she finally
asked as she turned to face me. “You’re bringing him here tomorrow and I’m just
finding out about this now?”
I wrapped an arm around
her shoulder and gave her a squeeze as I kissed her cheek.
“If it makes you feel
any better, it was his idea. Not mine.”
She turned to face me
and crossed her arms over her chest. I knew that stance. It was the
interrogator coming out, and as much as I wished I were prepared for the
inquisition, there was never really a way
to
prepare.
“You’re telling me you
just met him the other day?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re already
bringing him over to meet your family?”
“Yes. But honestly, I
think he’s sort of homesick or something.”
“What’s really going on
between you two?” she asked, concern lacing her tone. She reached for my hand
and gave it a squeeze. “You like him, don’t you?”
“He’s a nice guy,” I
answered nonchalantly. “We’re friends.”
“If you say ‘friends’
one more time, maybe I’ll believe you.” She smirked.
“We had a date and we
really hit it off, but I can’t be that girl,” I said, thinking about that
evening. I walked around the counter and sat on the barstool across from my mom
and waited. I knew it was coming—the motherly advice.
“I guess I’m confused,”
she said, resting her forearms on the counter. “You can’t be that girl that
meets a nice man? You can’t be that girl who gets to know him? Or you can’t be
that girl who discovers that he might be the one?”
“Are you crazy?” I
scoffed and leaned back in my seat. “I just met the guy, like a week ago. Don’t
go marrying me off just yet.”
“At your pace, you’re
never getting down the aisle, because you won’t open the damn door. That’s a
great way to meet someone, Dani.”
My temper was beginning
to flare, but I knew she was just being Mom. She always had my best interests
at heart, but she didn’t know what it was like. I had barely experienced the
Tabor Circus, and it was crazy enough. If I could just date Tabor, the guy who
changed my tire, sure—it would be a no-brainer. But he’d said so himself:
he couldn’t separate the two.
“Is it okay if he comes
with me tomorrow night?” I asked. “Or should I tell him that someone’s sick?”
“Neil, are you sick?”
“Nope,” he answered
quickly. “Are you sick, honey?”
“Can’t say I am.” She
grinned at my dad.
I rolled my eyes and
smiled. “You just want to meet JT Hunter.”
I stood up to grab my
things so I could get home. I had things I needed to take care of, and mentally
preparing to bring Tabor around my family was one of them.
“No,” Dad spoke up, his
eyes still trained on the TV. “We want to meet this Tabor person who seems to
have you acting like a scared little girl.”
“Goodnight,” I called
out, ignoring his comment, though it hit a little closer to the truth than I
let on.
The entire drive home, I
kept thinking about Tabor and the way he’d looked at me when I’d told him I
could only offer him friendship. It was possibly the worst lie I’d ever told,
and I sold it with such conviction that he didn’t seem to notice.
The rest of the
afternoon with Tabor had been spent taking inventory of what we had, and making
a wish list of what we needed. It had been on the tip of my tongue to say
something, but I hadn’t. And the few times that his arm brushed against mine
while we were working, all I’d wanted to do was take it back and kiss him. At
one point, I could feel his eyes on me while he was standing near the door, but
I’d refused to look at him because the moment I had, I would have lost all my
resolve.
He had been so patient
and sweet while we worked tirelessly for two hours. When it was time to put
everything away, we’d looked at the list…the very long list. Tabor wrapped one
arm around my shoulder in a friendly embrace and given me a squeeze. I leaned
my head into his chest and closed my eyes as I breathed him in.
Before I knew it, I was
pulling into my driveway and wondering how I’d gotten there. Thanks to my
Tabor-induced daydream, I was filled with regret once again, and eager to see
him the next night. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.
Me: Dinner at 6. Still
on?
He didn’t respond right
away, so I gathered my things and went inside to change my clothes. I was in
the middle of washing my face when a text came through, and I was happy to see
it was him.
Tabor: Yes. I’ll pick
you up at 5:30.
Me: I’ll pick you up.
I almost added a smiley
face, but I didn’t want to be too flirtatious.
Tabor: You don’t know
where I live
Me: Then I guess you
need to give me your address.
Tabor: 1701 Greenbriar
Ave
I set my phone down and
finished getting ready for bed. When I was finally able to settle in for the
night, exhaustion took over and I tried to succumb to it. But as soon as my
eyes closed, Tabor was all I could see, and I wanted so much for my reality to
be different.