Page 37 of The One I Need
“Oliver?”
“Of course Oliver.” I put my phone on speaker so I can start making my dinner. “How was your day?”
“How was my day?”
“Do we have a bad connection?” I check the bars on my phone to make sure nothing weird happened. “Can you not hear me?”
“I can hear you just fine. I’m just…why are you calling me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“And?”
“And friends call each other.”
“They do?”
How does she not know this? “Yes. They do. They call or text each other to see how their day went, to see if any new life events happened, or if there is something a friend needs to vent about, this gives them that open window for ventilation.”
“You can ventilate words?”
“Of course you can, silly,” I say. “So, let’s try this again, how was your day?”
“Fine?”
I laugh under my breath. “Is it fine if you have to say it in the form of a question?”
“Probably not.”
I smile, taking a seat on one of my kitchen bar stools as I cut the zucchini. “I didn’t think so. Go on, tell me all about it…”
* * *
Izzy: Is ventilation allowed in the middle of the day?
I laughas I read the text message. It looks like she’s getting the hang of this.
Oliver: Yes, but only because it’s after three and the students have left the building.
Izzy: Good. If one of them saw what I’m about to text they’d be asking you a lot of questions.
Oliver: Oooh! Not safe for work. I love these kinds of texts.
Izzy: This isn’t the fun kind of NSFW. This is just a lot of cussing.
Oliver: I have the swear jar ready.
Izzy: It started when I burned my finger on my curling iron this morning, which is just a shitty way to start the day.
Oliver: I’m sorry. Want me to kiss and make it better?
Izzy: Friends don’t kiss, Oliver. Not even burned fingers.
Oliver: Good to know the rules.
Izzy: Anyway, then I get to work and have to deal with an influencer who we are paying MAJOR fucking money to who thought it was a good fucking idea to fucking go on fucking ForU and make a fucking video about how many girls sucked his fucking dick during some fucking douche bag music festival. Maybe that’s not the fucking image you want to portray when you’re the spokesman for a fucking dating app that is anti-fucking hookup?
Oliver: That was a lot of fucks.
