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“Wait,” Ellie says excitedly while bouncing on her toes, “I want to know more about this. Should I hold off on setting you up?”
“There’s nothing to know. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back at my house, and after brushing my teeth, I practically collapse on my bed as the fatigue of the past week sets in. I turn on the television, in preparation forsleep in the next thirty seconds, when I realize my phone is almost dead, and I need to charge it. I unzip my backpack, and, when I reach inside to grab it, I pull out a piece of paper folded in half. I frown in confusion, wondering why I’d have a sleeve of what looks like loose-leaf paper.
I can’t even stop the excitement that courses through me when I see Sloane’s name and the ten numbers written neatly beneath it. My previous exhaustion is long forgotten as I type the number into my phone. I freeze momentarily, a list of questions running through my mind one after the other.
Maybe it’s too late to text her?
Should I text her at all?
You’ve been thinking about her since you left the airport. If you don’t now, you will the second you have a few drinks.
Fuck it.
I type out a message and my thumb hovers over the send button briefly before I click it.
Me:
So did you go through my stuff when you were sliding your number into my backpack?
Sloane:
I’m sorry, who is this?
I panic briefly before realizing that she’s definitely playing with meafter confirming very carefully that I typed the number in correctly,twice.
Me:
Did you give your number out to a lot of people today?
Sloane:
Still doesn’t answer my question.
Me:
You didn’t answer mine either
Sloane:
Guess we’re at a standstill
I narrow my eyes at my screen, not wanting to give in first, but on the off chance she’s really not sure, I don’t want her to feel uneasy.
Me:
It’s River.
The bubbles pop up, indicating that she’s typing before they disappear. They appear and then disappear again before one word pops up on my screen that causes a chuckle to leave me.
Sloane:
Who?
Me:
Cute.
