Let's Get Textual (Page 5)

* * *

Zach: Naughty, naughty Delia.

* * *

Me: *shrugs* I’d climb him like Jack climbed the beanstalk.

* * *

Zach: Have you seen his other movies?

* * *

Me: Don’t insult me, Zachary. It’s very unbecoming.

* * *

Zach: Which is your favorite?

* * *

Me: Waiting. It’s perfect in a disgusting way. Yours?

* * *

Zach: You’ll make fun of me…

* * *

Me: I would never!

* * *

Me: I can’t even lie through text. I so would.

* * *

Zach: SEE?!

* * *

Me: Tell me, you big baby.

* * *

Zach: Fine…

* * *

Zach: The Proposal

* * *

Me: NO. NO WAY. The movie with Sandra Bullock? And crazy Betty White?

* * *

Zach: Yes…

* * *

Me: The romcom, correct? Just want to be certain I get this right for your street cred chart.

* * *

Zach: YES DAMMIT

* * *

Me: I’m not laughing.

* * *

Zach: You are, which is why I didn’t want to tell you.

* * *

Me: I’m wildly impressed that you did. Most guys would just scour the internet to find his most macho movie, spit out a generic fact about it, and call it their favorite.

* * *

Me: You just scored big in my book.

* * *

Me: Hey, Zach?

* * *

Zach: Yeah?

* * *

Me: I’m still laughing.

* * *

Zach: I’m glad I accomplished something today, though making you laugh wasn’t my intent…

* * *

Me: Honestly, it helped. There was a wicked rude customer in earlier and my manager was involved, so your confession made my night.

* * *

Zach: You’re at work at this hour?

* * *

Me: Yes, but only because I’m filling in for someone else. I don’t usually stay this late on weeknights.

* * *

Zach: I have a strict eight-to-five schedule, no weekends. I had to implement it after I realized I was working about 100 hours a week and had zero social life. Not that I have a social life now, but it’s the principle of it.

* * *

Me: We can be no-social-life-having losers together! *high five*

* * *

Zach: HUZZAH

* * *

Me: Yeah, whatever that means. Gotta run. Cleanup duty is calling!

* * *

Zach: Farewell, handmaiden.

* * *

Me: So clever…NOT.

“Come on, Delia, please. One drink and we can leave.”

“We have alcohol in this very house. We don’t need to go out and buy overpriced drinks.”

Zoe huffs and throws a hand to her hip. “You haven’t left this house for a social anything in like three weeks. You need to go out, if only for one drink. Please, I’m starting to worry about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Zoe. I’m fine. I have plenty to do here.”

“You’ve rearranged my closet…twice, and you organized the freezer because you didn’t like where I put the peas. You have to go out and do something besides shuffle everything around before I can’t find a damn thing in this apartment ever again.”

“I think that’s a little excessive,” I mutter. When she pins me with a glare, I roll my eyes and pull myself off my bed. “Fine. One drink and we scram.”

“Deal!” She claps her hands together and giggles. “This is going to be fun! Wear something cute.”

She’s zooming out of my room and into hers, where I hear her rummaging around her closet while muttering about how she can’t find anything. I smirk and set about getting ready myself.

I assume we’re headed down to Lola’s, so I know what I can get away with clothes-wise. I pull out a striped blue and white tee and a pair of black leggings, throwing them on as Zoe comes flying back into my room.

“I invited a few friends. Hope you don’t mind! Bye!”

She’s gone again.

I pull my outfit together with a long black vest, a pair of black booties, small silver hoop earrings, and light makeup. I already threw my hair into a side braid earlier and it fits my style perfectly, so I leave it as is.

Not bothering to knock on Zoe’s door, I bust into her room.

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“OMG! I’M NAKED!”

“I have titties too. Not like I haven’t seen a pair before.”

“But mine are special,” she tosses over her shoulder at me.

“Right, and my vagina is a magical haven.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.” She snaps her bra into place and spins back around. “Oh my gosh! Your outfit is cute! There’s no doubt you’ll attract attention tonight.”

I don’t want attention tonight. I want to crawl back in bed and sit with my phone in my hand for the next several hours.

“It’s just leggings and a tee, no big deal.”

“Just take the friggin’ compliment and go away. I’ll be out in five.”

“So, ten?”

She flips me off. “Five, you brat.”

“Drinks are on you if it’s ten.” I give her a finger wave and slip out the door before she throws something at me.

Me: My roomie is forcing me out of the apartment for “one” drink. We’ll either abide by that rule or we’ll come home at two in the morning.

* * *

Zach: I could go for a beer…or ten. It’s one of those days.

* * *

Me: Ugh. Want to talk about it?

* * *

Zach: I probably should, but I’d rather drown my sorrows in booze and video games.

* * *

Me: So healthy.

* * *

Me: Sorry, that was a dick thing to say.

* * *

Zach: I like it when you say dick things. Keeps it real.

* * *

Zach: Also, you’re right. It’s not healthy. I lost about four hours’ worth of work because of a power surge. My backups didn’t perform as they should have and now I’m starting over and will be working into the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

Me: Okay, yeah, that IS a s**t day. Beer time?

* * *

Zach: Beer time. Then back to work. I meandered outside to grab some fresh air and talk myself out of smashing my computer.

* * *

Me: I think that was a smart move. Is it helping at all?

* * *

Zach: Give me a few more minutes and I’ll let you know.

* * *

Zach: Why don’t you want to go out with your friend?

* * *

Me: Let’s just say I’m much more comfortable staying home and watching Netflix than I am hanging out at the bar with randbros.

* * *

Zach: Random bros. Clever.

* * *

Me: Thank you. But, yeah, it’s not my scene. Never has been, but she thinks I need to get out and “get back in the saddle”.

* * *

Zach: Recent breakup?

* * *

Me: Ish? The night you first texted me was when we broke up.

* * *

Zach: You were already falling for me then. Knew it *smirk*

* * *

Me: SMIRK? REALLY!?

* * *

Me: I cannot believe I talk to you.

* * *

Zach: Technically, you text to me.

* * *

Me: Please do not remind me.

* * *

Zach: I think you secretly enjoy our chats.

“Ha! Nine minutes and thirty seconds. You gotta buy your own drinks.”

I snap my head toward Zoe, quickly shutting off my phone screen like she has superpowers and can read the messages through the back.

I don’t know why I haven’t told Zoe about Zach. I should because it’s not a big deal, as there is nothing romantic going on between the two of us, but I like having Zach to myself, enjoy the way he’s making me feel. We text every day, all day—have since he called me that afternoon when we realized our mistake. For weeks now, we’ve been going back and forth. It’s nothing deep or poetic, but it’s still something special.

Zach makes me feel special.

Which is so stupid and silly because I don’t even know the guy.

Yet…he makes my heart race with anticipation any time I converse with him. He puts a smile on my face. He knows exactly what to say to make me laugh.

So why is this so complicated? Why am I making this so complicated?

“Earth to D. Let’s roll. I don’t want to miss happy hour.”

Pulling myself from…well, myself, I slide off the barstool and meet an impatient Zoe at the door.

“One drink, Zoe. I mean it.”

She throws a mischievous grin over her shoulder. “Whatever you say.”

Zoe’s already downed three drinks in the hour since we arrived.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Well, well. Check out who Thursday ladies night dragged in.”

A grin overtakes my face. “They let you in here?”

“I am me.”

“You always were so humble, Caleb.” I stand and give him a quick hug. “What are you doing here? You said Lola’s wasn’t your scene.”

“And I thought it wasn’t your scene either.”

“Fair point.”

He hikes his thumb over his shoulder as he takes a seat next to me. “The idiots brought me out. Deemed it ‘good for me’.”

“Help you heal your broken heart?”

“Supposedly. Every time I try to explain to them that I’m fine and feel good about the split, it’s a waste of breath.” Caleb winces. “S**t, D. That sounded horrible. I didn’t mean it like I don’t care or anything like that. It’s—”

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