Page 14 of Big Dix

What did his last message mean, anyway? What instructions am I waiting on?

A throat clears and pulls me from my thoughts. I turn my gaze back to Glory. She’s so happy and glowy since she has been getting dicked on the regular. I almost hate her.

“What?” I ask, maybe with a bit of attitude that isn’t necessary at all. I can’t help it. I’m upset, I’m angry, and I feel betrayed somehow, but that doesn’t really seem right, does it?

Technically, Atticus and I are strangers. It doesn’t matter that I know blue is his favorite color. Or that his eyes shimmer with a hint of gold when the light hits them just right. It doesn’t matter that I know he passed for 5,109 yards last season or that he likes tacos almost as much as I do. We are still strangers.

Maybe he came to his senses.Gah! I hate all this damn self-doubt. This isn’t me. I’m confident, overly so. I’m fun, not a Debbie Downer.Fucking Debbie.

I sigh, disgusted with myself for being all up in my feelings about this dumb shit. It’s dumb. I’m fucking dumb. I guess it’s time to spill the beans to my girls.

“Okay, look, here’s the sitch.” I sit up a bit, sip my wine, and dive into the deep end of the truth. “I am feeling some way about this because I feel like I got ding-dong ditched or some shit.”

Ti laughs. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out. Talk to us, boo.”

“You know how I say perverted—albeit funny as hell stuff—on Big Dix’s social media accounts?” I focus on each of my girls; they nod in acknowledgment.

Jen, the asshole, grabs her bag of popcorn. “Oh, this is going to be some good ass shit. I just know it.” She nestles back into the couch, crossing her legs under her with a handful of popcorn. “Go on now, tell Aunty Jen everything.”

“Shut up,” I chastise, but her little bit of humor has lightened this dark cloud that’s been floating over my head for the last few days. It’s stupid, really. So dumb to be this disappointed over something so nonsensical.

“Ti, you know the other day, when you came into the bakery with Rim to ask us about catering the party?”

“Yeah, what about it?” She frowns; I’m sure baffled about where this is headed.

“Well, after you left, I received a message from someone that I didn’t expect ever to acknowledge my existence, let alone send me a message.”

I watch my friends, who are waiting for the next words to spill from my lips because, let’s face it, I am a fantastic storyteller. My fucking girl Jen, she’s shoveling popcorn into her mouth, hanging on my every word like this is the most incredible story ever.

See? Great storyteller.

“Who was it from? What did it say?”

I take a breath. “Atticus Dixon.” I pause for dramatic effect, savoring their collective gasps and shocked, “whats” before continuing. “He sent me a dick pic!”

“Shut up!” Jen squeals, popcorn flying all over my couch.

I brush it off my chest and watch it roll onto the floor. Glory and Ti shake the popcorn from their hair.

“Let me see it!!” Glory hops up, tugging my phone from under my leg. “Give me your password. What is it, tacos4eva?”

Damn it, she knows me too well.

I snag my phone back from her grip andtskat her. “You aren’t checking out my future husband’s penis. Besides, what would Beck say?”

She rolls her eyes. “Like he doesn’t autograph titties for a living.” She snorts out a laugh, and I can’t help but join her.

I’m sure he doesn’t any longer, now that Glory has come along.

I go into every sordid detail. The messages, what happened at the party, and how I’m upset my dream man is an unknowing three-timer with Annie me and my alter ego. I can’t hold that against him, though. Not really. Can I? Maybe. I can, however, be pissed he’s not messaged me back. Was it just a game to him? A way to pass the time? I mean, I’m nobody in his world. I don’t know why I expected more from him. I know it’s stupid but, I just did. If I’m honest, I’m disappointed.

“So, just message him back.”

“Ti, I’m not doing that. That seems desperate.”

“Well, he started it, right?” Jen asks around a mouth full of popcorn. “And he flirted with the real you at the party. Clearly, he’s interested. Open the app. Tell him you aren’t one to be kept waiting. Just do it.”

Maybe Jen’s right. Why can’t I message him? I’m a grown-ass, independent woman. I point my phone at her goofy smiling face. “You’re not leaving here until you clean that mess up.”

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