Page 8 of Playful Kris

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I come across his name.

Do I call? Do I text? Do I lie to my best friend and tell her he’s unavailable?

Deciding lying isn’t the best, I opt for texting him; that way I don’t have to hear his voice.

Me

Hey, is this Kris?

There. I hit send, and wait.

After a few minutes of no response, I shrug my shoulders.

Oh well, I did my part. It’s not my fault I don’t know how to get in touch with him. We certainly have not kept up with each other since school.

Just when I think he’s not going to text me back, and I can tell Cora I tried but need to go a different direction, my phone pings with an alert, and who do you think it’s from?

Kris

Well, well, well.

I roll my eyes. Yep, not doing this.

Kris

I wondered if I’d ever hear from you again.

Me

Nevermind. I must have the wrong number. So sorry.

Kris

And the number you’re trying to reach just so happens to have my name? Same spelling and all?

Shit. He’s got me there.

Me

Okay, fine.

Kris

What can I do for you, sweetheart?

Me

Not your sweetheart. And Cora and I are running an event for charity, and I need help.

Kris

I’m intrigued, baby. Tell me more.

If I roll my eyes anymore at him, they’ll roll right out of my head.

Me

Not your baby, either. We’re hosting a Christmas Bazaar in Birchwood, we’re hoping to be able to put on an adult show to drive numbers up, and we were thinking Stripping Santas would be appealing.

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