Page 17 of Can't Text This

Me:I am not saying it!

Python:Chicken.

Me:The biggest chicken you’ll ever meet.

Me:Can I be honest with you?

Python:Please do.

Me:You’re not my type, not even close, and let’s face it, I’m not yours either. We simply LOOK like we don’t belong together. I gave you my number because I felt like I HAD to after I let you do what you did. Also, because I liked the way you kissed. A small part of me hoped you’d reach out, but I was mostly hoping we’d both move on and forget it ever happened.

Me:I’m sorry if you hoped for more, but I’m not a random hookup kind of gal.

Python:What makes you assume I’m a random hookup kind of guy? What makes you assume you’re not my type? Because of the way I look? Tsk, tsk. So judgy, Monty.

Python:For the record, I’ve had random hookups in the past and they didn’t work out in my favor (i.e., I got a girl pregnant).

Me:You’re a father?

Python:I am.

Me:I…I did not see that coming.

Python:Is it a bad thing?

Me:No, not at all! I love kids.

Me:Not that I plan on meeting YOUR kid or anything like that. Just in general.

Me:I guess I just also didn’t think dads did…well, THAT with strangers in public.

Python:Are you ever going to just say it?

Me:NO!

Me:I don’t talk like that.

Python:Fine, I’ll say it: I touched your pussy, Monty. I led you into the bathroom, kissed you senseless, and rubbed your clit until you were panting in my ear, and you liked every damn second of it. You came undone from my touch alone. Your hair was wild and your eyes full of satisfaction. Your cheeks burned a scarlet red and I can’t fucking stop thinking about it.

Python:I want to see you come again. BAD.

Python:I know I said I’d stop but I couldn’t help it, not when you keep talking around it like you didn’t enjoy it just as much as I did.

Holy crow.

My heart is hammering in my chest, sweat beading up on the back of my neck. I’m suddenly so glad I wore this skirt today because man, oh man, is it hot in here.

I gather my long hair and twist it into an artful bun then pinch at my boatneck shirt and fan it, trying to give myself some reprieve.

I want to send so many things back to him—like my address, for starters.

The need to see him again, to kiss him again, to let himtouchme again…is strong. I don’t get what’s come over me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of sexual encounters before. I’ve just never “gone all the way”.

I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin who was saving herself for marriage while her fiancé was giving himself to anyone and everyone.

Even though I’ve fooled around before, I can safely say I have never been so turned on by someone. I believe if we hadn’t been interrupted that night, I would have gone home with him in a heartbeat. Alcohol fueled a good part of it, and maybe the public setting too, but there was just something about Robbie that was different.

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