Page 5 of Wrong Number, Right Mountain Man
Beck: Not usually. But if they did, this one would be a problem drinker.
A laugh escapes despite my pounding head. This man has no right to be this funny when I'm trying to stay embarrassed.
Me: Well, thanks again, and I promise never to bother you again. You take care.
Man oh man, I hate the idea of never talking to him again. It’s making my stomach sour, and it’s not from the hangover. This makes no sense, but it’s nice to have somebody to talk to. Maya shouldn’t be the only regulated person with front row seats to my crazy. It should be shared.
I groan and flop back onto my pillow when my phone pings.
Beck: Want to share what's making you drink? I've got time.
Something about the simple way he says it makes my chest feel warm. Like he actually wants to hear about my disaster life instead of just being polite.
Me: Lol. You more than deserve to have context for my crazy. I mean, you saw a lot of me.
Beck: ??
Me: Remember the Maya emergency protocol I mentioned? Well, yesterday my ex posted engagement photos. Three months after we broke up. THREE MONTHS. Apparently, I was just keeping his bed warm for TWO FREAKING YEARS until his actual soulmate showed up.
Beck: Ouch.
Me: Right? So, I'm at work trying not to cry into someone's birthday cake when I see the post. Then I dropped my phone in cake batter because my coordination abandons me during emotional crises.
Beck: Hence the new phone.
Me: Hence the new phone that looks like it survived Y2K and has the technological capabilities of a potato. Which is how I ended up texting you instead of Maya, because I can't even have a proper breakdown without screwing it up.
Beck: Could have been worse.
Me: How exactly could it have been worse?
Beck: Could have sent it to your boss. Or your ex.
The thought makes me shudder.
Me: Oh God. Can you imagine? Josh opening that message? He'd probably screenshot it and show his yoga instructor fiancée so they could laugh about his crazy ex.
Beck: His loss.
Two words. Simple, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. My throat gets tight.
Me: You don't even know me. I could be completely awful.
Beck: Could be. But you apologized when you didn't have to, you're worried about bothering a stranger, and you care about your friend's feelings enough to have a Maya emergency protocol. Doesn't sound awful to me.
Beck: Plus you made me laugh twice yesterday, which is more than most people manage in a month.
Me: Is that because mountain life is a very serious business or because you don't talk to people much?
Beck: Both.
Me: Hermit mountain man confirmed. What made you decide to live out a sexy lumberjack fantasy? **And yes, I do read those books with the flannel ripped open and the man chest on full display. So you embody the lumberjack fantasy in my mind. ??**
The typing dots appear and disappear several times before his response comes through.
Beck: Long story. What made you decide to work at a bakery?
Deflection noted and filed away for later. Everyone has their stuff.
