Page 3 of Love's a Glitch
“That’s right. The guy who rhymed purple with urinal.” She snorted a laugh, and I bit back mine as I refused to release my grip on the tiny thread of optimism that’d arisen from tonight’s phone malfunction.
“In his defense, ‘purple’ is a hard word to rhyme.”
“Yes, it’s your fault for wearing a purple dress. If you do decide to take him up on his offer, go with something blue—true, new, view. Ooh,screw!”
That certainly earned us extra attention from several of the men in the bar. They eyed Catalina with interest, and a few even gave me a cursory glance, as though they might consider me for sloppy seconds. Yay me. Scooting closer to Cat in hopes no one would approach us, I said, “Maybe this is a sign. When I’d read the Dating Do’s and Don’ts Newsletter this week—”
“Not this again. How do I unsubscribe from a newsletter I never signed up for?” Cat asked, and I shot her a glare. She slowly lifted her hands. “Sorry. I know you find it helpful; I just want to track down the dating coach and choke him—and not in a sexy, fun way.”
A laugh slipped out at that. I summed up what he’d said about chemistry and intimacy and reread the text from Milo. By poem number three, I’d decided he wasn’t for me—hah—but since then I’d learned that sweet guys were hard to find. Wasn’t that more important than being an accomplished wordsmith?
As long as he didn’t say “libary” or insist I let him get his point “acrost.”
I pushed to my feet, bracing my palms against the wood to see how steady I was before freestyling it—look, Ma, no hands!“Let’s go. My self-esteem’s taken a beating, and I’d rather not let that lead to decisions I’ll later regret. Not to mention, I have a carton of rocky road ice cream in my fridge.”
“You had me at ice cream.” Catalina stood, far less wobbly than I, and wrapped her arm around my waist for added support.
We flagged down a cab and, within a handful of minutes, we were pulling up to my apartment complex. I ignored my curiosity over the vibrating of my phone as I paid the driver, but once we were safely inside the lobby of my building, I dug out my cell to see if the text I’d received was on the mean or promising side.
Two texts had come in, but all I could focus on was the fact that one of them was from Dillon. Silly as it was, I’d always held onto the tiniest sliver of hope that he’d contact me someday with some stellar excuse for why he’d ghosted me.
I’m so sorry, Ellie, but I loved you so much it scared me, and I needed to be in a healthier place. I’m ready now, though.
OR
A mugger stole my phone, and I’ve spent hours dialing up number combinations, trying to find yours.Okay, not that one, as he knew where I lived.
Which led to the most romantic scenario of them all…
Crazy story, my love, but I was in a tragic accident. I woke up in a hospital with no memory, but images from my life slowly came back to me. One thing stood out in the fog, and it was you.
Unlikely, I knew. But I still considered Dillon as the one that got away—a saying that always bothered me, honestly, because it should be the onewhogot away. Whenever I sang along with Katy Perry, I even corrected her lyrics, but I digress.
Dillon:New phone, who dis?
Ouch.Was he just being a jerk and telling me he didn’t want to talk to me in the meanest of ways? Or had he legit deleted my contact info? Admittedly, I should’ve removed his. It’d been almost three months, and still nothing. But we’d had this instant connection, and I’d shared personal things I’d never shared with anyone else. About my dad, and my hopes for the future, and my need to feel wanted. When I’d confessed as much, he’d claimed it was a two-way street.
Dillon:Sorry, since I did just get this phone, I couldn’t help myself. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong number.
Now I was even moreconfused. I stumbled as my toe caught the edge of the elevator car, residual fear going through me as I increased my grip on my phone. I’d always worried that one day I’d drop my phone through the thin gap and have to listen as it echoed down the elevator shaft before crashing to the ground. ThenI’dbe the one with the amazing excuses, albeit the only person I’d have to use them on now was my overbearing boss, and my tight budget didn’t exactly allow for a new phone.
“You good?” Cat asked, and I nodded and punched the button to my floor.
Once we were inside my apartment, I headed to the kitchen. I grabbed two spoons before pausing in front of the refrigerator to check my phone again.
Dillon:My name’s Luke, and I read enough of your texts before realizing they weren’t for me to know yours is Ellie. Now that we’ve exchanged names, I feel like it’s my duty to tell you that Dillon was obviously a prick who didn’t deserve you.
Curiosity bloomed,and I typed out a reply.
Me:Oh, and you can tell all that from a picture and old texts? Those resent when I updated my phone, FYI. They weren’t from tonight, and I’m embarrassed that anyone saw them, although I guess a stranger is better than my ex.
Dillon—er,Luke:Maybe not from one picture, but there were TWO. So does that mean you’re not wasted & dreaming about me while reliving our incredible time together? That’s a shame.
A swirl wentthrough my gut, one I hadn’t experienced in so long it took me a moment to make sure I wasn’t going to end up puking, like I’d done the first time I’d sent those pictures. But nope, this was a happy swirl. Buoyed by the blatant flirting and, okay, the alcohol coursing through my system, I tapped out more words, a smile stretching across my face as I did so.
Me:Not wasted, but pleasantly buzzed. Perhaps that’s why our great times are so hazy in my mind? Guess we’ll have to have some more and see if that jolts my memory.????
Luke:Drink lots of water. I’m crossing my fingers that you’ll at least remember this incredible convo in the morning. That way, when I text to check in on how you & your hangover are doing, you won’t think of it as creepy but charming.
