Page 28 of Almost Him

My phone lights up again, this time with a text.

Wilson

Fine bitch. Don’t answer. Just wanted to let you know Lisa took your place on my cock so don’t bother coming back.

Alden watches me quietly while I read the text and let out a snort. He raises his eyebrows in a question.

“He’s texting and calling to tell me not to come back. Okay,” I scoff. I hold the phone up and let Alden read the text. He doesn’t look amused.

“Was he mean to you? Abusive?” God help him if my answer was yes, because Alden looks like he could tear him open at the thought.

“No, he’s a petulant child. I’ll block him.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the phone lights up yet again, and Alden grabs it. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare!” I hiss when he acts like he’s going to answer it.

His grin reaches from ear to ear. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Give me that phone.” My demand might’ve been a bit more convincing if I could say it without smiling.

“Come on, El. Let me mess with him.” He sticks out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “My mom died. How can you say no?”

“You did not just play the dead mom card.” He waves the phone in front of me. “Fine. No threatening him. He’s being an ass, but he’s hurt.”

Alden accepts the call. “Ella’s phone.”

I can’t hear what Wilson is saying, and Alden yanks it away when I reach to put it on speaker. “Who am I?” Alden says in a chipper voice. “Who are you?”

After a pause, he looks at me. “Wilson? El, baby, do you know a guy named after a volleyball?” Without waiting for my response—it’s not like the question was actually asked for my benefit—he keeps going. “She says she isn’t friends with any balls. You must have the wrong number.”

He listens for a few seconds and leaps off the bed when I make another lunge for the phone. “Like Wilson, the volleyball. How have you never seen Cast Away? Tom Hanks is a national treasure!”

Okay, time to stop him. I shouldn’t have let him answer in the first place. What was I thinking? This time when I make a grab for the phone, he lets it go, but he follows me, crying out, “Wilson! Wilson! I’m sorry, Wilson!”

He grins and leans against the wall when I shove him back.

I’m tempted to hang up, but it’s time to put an end to this. “You need to stop calling and texting. There’s nothing we need to say.”

Wilson’s voice blares through the phone. “Are you serious? You’re my girlfriend! And who the fuck was that?”

“I’m not your girlfriend. If you haven’t noticed, I moved out. You told me not to come back.”

“I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Lisa sucks cock better than you, anyway. I got a hundred fucking groupies waiting.”

“Then stop ringing my phone and go fuck them.”

I hang up and sit on the edge of the bed while I tap the screen to add him to my blocked calls list. There’s a knock at the door. Before I can say anything, it opens a few inches and Mom peeks in.

She looks at me, then at Alden standing beside my bed in boxers and a tee shirt. “Sorry, I heard voices. Everything okay?” Considering it’s the middle of the night, she doesn’t look too surprised to see him here.

“Fine. I was…on the phone.”

She nods and steps inside. “I’m sorry about your mother, Alden. If you or Oliver need anything, you let us know.”

He nods and when she steps up and hugs him, he looks like he’s fighting back tears again. Grief can be a brutal seesaw. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Mom gives me a nod, then retreats, closing the door behind her.

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