Page 60 of Can't Text This

This time she rolls her eyes. “Yes, my hearing is perfectly fine, Montana.”

“Well, Denver, all you did was ask me who, so I told you.”

“Where do you know him from? You haven’t been anywhere but…” She trails off and her eyes light up. “No way!”

I nod, knowing she’s connected the dots.

“That guy from Lola’s? You’ve been texting with that guy from Lola’s? Are you serious right now?”

“Yes.”

She claps her hands together and bounces around on the couch. “How’s it going? Show me all the dirty pictures he’s sent. I want to see that dick!”

I roll my eyes at her. “No.”

“But he has sent dick pics, right?”

“Um, no. We don’t do that.”

She pretends to yawn and smacks her hand over her open mouth. “Boring.”

“Denny, please tell me you donotsend naked pictures to strangers.”

“I don’t.” A smile forms on her lips. “I post them on Snapchat.”

My mouth drops open. “You’re insane.”

“I’m having fun.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, and to her it’s not, but me doing something like that? Never.Ever.

Sometimes the stark differences between me and my twin amaze me. We’re polar opposites in everything. It’s so weird how you can share the womb with someone for nine months, be as close as two people possibly can be, and yet have nothing in common.

Denver is wild and carefree; I’m reserved and careful. She’s a boy magnet, and I’m certain I put off some sort of repellant. She’s “experienced”, and I’m virtually untouched compared to her.

Even the way we look is different.

Denver has shoulder-length dark brown hair and skin that doesn’t burn after she’s in the sun for five minutes, while I’m stuck with red locks that come down to just above my butt and a complexion so pale Casper thinks I’m his doppelganger.

“If you’re not sending dirty pictures, then what are you guys doing?”

“We’re talking.”

She sighs and throws herself back into the cushions, pointing the remote at the TV and looking bored. To be fair, she does have some reality TV show on, and that stuff isn’t even remotely interesting. “Classic Monty.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means you’re playing it safe like you always do.”

“I don’t always play it safe,” I argue. I shake my phone her way. “I’m talking to the last person I didn’t play it safe with.”

“You made out with one man in a bar—not that big of a deal.”

“To you, maybe, but it is for me.”

She purses her lips. “Fair point, but you need more adventure, more fun. You need to—”

“Just go for it. Yeah, I heard you before, but I’m fine with what Robbie and I are doing. We’re getting to know one another, taking things slow.”

“This guy isn’t leading you on, is he?”

---