Page 53 of Sexting the Boss

I turn on my side, curling into my pillow, soaking in his words.

I want to believe him.

More than anything, I want to believe that I’m getting somewhere.

Me: Maybe.

Unknown Number: Definitely.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Me: How do you know?

Unknown Number: Because I know what that feels like.

I frown at the screen.

Me: You know what what feels like?

Unknown Number: Being stuck in survival mode. Feeling like if you stop moving, everything might fall apart.

I wasn’t expecting that.

Me: I figured you had your life all sorted out.

Unknown Number: No one really does.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

Me: But you’ve got a good job, right? Something that pays well enough that you don’t have to worry about things like rent and whether your overpriced office supplies need manager approval?

A pause.

Then—

Unknown Number: Yes. But money doesn’t fix everything.

Something in my stomach flips.

I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve spent my entire life believing that it would.

That if I could just make enough, if I could just get out of the struggle, then everything would fall into place.

Me: Then what does?

There’s a long pause.

Like he’s actually thinking about it.

Then—

Unknown Number: That’s the question, isn’t it?

I exhale, tapping my fingers against my blanket.

Me: Come on. Don’t be cryptic. Tell me something real. Something about you.

Unknown Number: Like what?

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