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“Sent” appears below the little bubble of text.
Immediately followed by “Seen.”
My stomach flops in dramatic fashion.
Seconds crawl by.
Is he gonna ignore me? What’s taking so long? Is he chiseling his response into stone? Am I going to be relegated to waiting for a response during business hours of Monday through Friday, nine to five?
Dots start to flurry and I feel like my heart is about to explode. He’s replying. Or at least … I think he is. The ordeal of waiting while fixated on tiny bouncing pixels on my phone screen—which stop and then start up again—drags on and on.
After damn near climbing the walls, I see the most Flinn of replies. Frustratingly simple and no fluff. This is a cowboy who obviously shuns emojis.
Flinn:
Hey. Sorry, I’m out with people at the moment.
It’s okay. I get it.
Don’t wanna interrupt.
How goddamn pathetic? The guy I’m obsessing over doesn’t even want to text back? Message received. Loud and fucking clear.
I drain the last of my drink, feeling like I want to sock myself in the jaw for even reaching out in the first place.
A request to video chat fills the screen.
Oh my fucking god.
I nearly drop my phone in my haste to jab the green button, spluttering on a mouth full of whiskey. It burns like hellfire going down my throat in a rush as I cough and choke and my eyes water. This is peak unsexy. A great look for me. Nothing says, “Hey, wanna reconsider your stance on hooking up with your sister’s ex?” like coughing up a lung.
“Well … if I’d known you’d be this pleased to see me …” Flinn covers his mouth with a big palm, stifling laughter. “Are you losing your touch? Thought you could swallow?”
“Sh-shut up,” I croak, blinking away the wetness coating my lashes. God, he looks so good. “Why are you whispering?” As a ragged noise comes out of me as I clear my throat, I realize he’s got earphones in.
His eyes flicker off to the side, and he shifts his weight before looking back at me. “I’m at a Christmas tree farm with my sisters.”
My giant grin is a problem. Absolutely impossible to hide the way it stretches across my face. “Sneaking off to talk to me, huh?”
“You started it.”
“You called me.”
“I missed you.” Flinn says the words hushed, but he doesn’t miss a beat. The sentiment rolls off his tongue like we’ve exchanged moments like this thousands of times before. Not like we’re two cowboys who shouldn’t know each other so intimately. He doesn’t waver in saying those three little words, but my heart certainly stutters and trips over itself hearing him say them nonetheless.
“I-I really wish you were here.” The confession blurts out. Heat scrambles up the back of my neck and chest. “This whole situation has got me twisted upside down, Flinn. You gotta know, I can’t stop thinking about you.” My fingers dig into my hair as I readjust the phone and lean back.
His eyes bore into me. We might be a thousand miles away from each other, but I feel everything in that stare. I’m lying on my couch, holding him in front of my face, and the urge to kiss him is damn near blinding.
“Glad I’m not the only one.” Flinn exhales heavily, his features softening a touch. Like a weight has been lifted upon hearing me say it out loud. “Kinda assumed you wouldn’t wanna …”
“Flinn. I only bolted the other day because shit was already too hard to keep under wraps around your sister. It was crappy of me, but I figured you would rather I disappear than accidentally slip up and say something stupid like ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’”
His lips twitch. “Borderline planning to casually stalk me were you, hmm?”
“Oh, there’s nothing casual here. Certainly nothing casual about what your voice does to me, cowboy.” I dart my tongue out to wet my bottom lip.
Through the screen I see his nostrils flare, then his gaze drifts to whatever is in the background, out of view. He pulls the phone a little closer and my heart starts zooming around behind my ribcage.
