Page 14 of Texts From My Exes
If it hadn’t happened by now, it probably wasn’t going to.
Life sucked sometimes.
I needed to move on. Do some me-work. Focus on literally anyone who didn’t make me want to rewrite the entire definition of friendship just to fit how I felt around her.
I told myself I’d help her this once—ride out the social media storm—and then I’d be done. If the Vex thing didn’t get herattention, I’d start my own path. Even if it meant walking in the opposite direction of hers.
I was pushing thirty.
Time to cut the apron strings.
Or maybe it was just the wine talking, because the next thing out of my mouth was:
“Can you set me up?”
The room went silent. Even theFriendspreview stopped looping, like it knew something important was happening.
Harper jerked away from me. “Wait,what?You mean—you want to date? Like, a person?”
I glared. “No. A robot. Preferably AI. I’ll fall in love with her personality—humans be damned. Yes,a person.” I gestured dramatically. “I mean, I have Excel, and firewalls, and a smart fridge that judges my snack habits, but maybe it’s time.”
She leaned in, squinting. “Are you drunk?”
I flicked her nose. “Off life and cyber security, baby. You know it.”
She shook her head, grinning. “If I could find a girl who codes like you, it’d be a match made in Silicon Valley heaven. But the only single friend I have is Jen, and you said you’d rather burn alive than speak to her for more than thirty minutes.”
I cringed. “That might’ve been a bit harsh.”
Harper reached for her glass again. “She’s actually sweet. Loves animals. Want me to give her a call?”
Wait. What?
That’s it? No hesitation? No disapproval?
No jealousanything?
I stared at her, the burn of rejection hitting faster than the wine ever could.
“Yeah. Maybe,” I said flatly. “Or maybe I’ll just start a Tinder account.”
Her eyes widened. “So you want one-night stands now? Not commitment?”
I licked my lips. “So what if I do?”
She paused, like I’d short-circuited something in her brain.
“Well, I mean… those kind of girls—they’re not good enough for you.”
I frowned. “Okay, Pot. Enjoy the Kettle. You have, like, two accounts.”
She waved me off. “It’s different.”
I tilted my head. “How?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s you. I don’t know… I guess I always thought of you as—like, I don’t know. Asexual?”
My entire world stopped moving.
