Page 12 of Rocking the Receiver
My previous tensions have vanished by the time that I deposit the tray of food on the small, modern glass desk. It doesn’t take long for me to wolf down the decent cheeseburger and sweet potato fries, but I have to force myself to eat the tasteless sidesalad topped with balsamic vinaigrette because, as my mother says, “Greens are good for you, and ketchup isn’t a veggie.”
The tapping of my bare foot on the carpet urges me to snatch my phone from the nearby nightstand that matches the desk. Calling isn’t an option this time, so I take a safer route. My snark only succeeded in scaring him and, in turn, infuriating me last time we talked. So, I delete the words and try again.
Elliot
Hey. It’s been a while. What are you up to?
Please, tell me you’re not mad at me.
After the phone call debacle, I forced myself to stop stalking him on social media, so I have no idea where he could be. It doesn’t really matter. I gulp some of my Dr. Pepper, my one and only guilty pleasure. (Masturbating and obsessing over Rupert carry zero guilt, thank you very much!)
My pulse drums when three little dots flash on my screen.
Already?
Rupert
Bonjour Elliot.
Me, mad? I was starting to think YOU were actually mad at me. We’re good?
Elliot
Yes, we R.
I’m sorry for the way I acted with you. As of now, I promise I’ll behave & stop being a spoiled brat.
See, I’m on my best behavior, apologizing and everything. I’m genuinely sincere, but needless to say, I still want in his pants.
I guess my college visit triggered something in me. Like a grown-up vibe that helped me to realize that in order to achieve my goal, I have to get in his good graces first. I bet he’d be a great friend, but I have plenty of those and will have no problem making new ones in the fall. I lust over him in more ways than one and only trust him to take care of my virginity.
Before he has a chance to reply, my fingers have a mind of their own. (Shocker, I know!) I chug most of my Dr. Pepper after I’m done typing… Liquid courage.
Elliot
I’ve missed you.
Rupert
Didn’t you say you were behaving?
Elliot
I am! Since when can’t friends tell each other that?
Anyway, there’s another reason why I texted: I’m in the US (college applications). I’ll be in NYC to meet with family on the 26th. Wanna meet up for drinks?
The answer takes longer this time, so I grab my fork and play with what’s left of my salad, purposely avoiding looking at the screen until I hear a distinct ping. (Coward much?)
Rupert
Maybe next time. I would have liked that, but I won’t be around. Sorry.
Elliot
K, then. Rain check. But now, you owe me 2.
Rupert
