Page 7 of There Is Also a Dog

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ME: Well, if you show up with your dog I probably wouldn’t even notice you…

MITCHELL: What kind of murderer would show up with his dog on Christmas Eve?

ME: The kind who bakes cookies for the people he murders, I’d imagine.

MITCHELL: What exactly did Maddie tell you about me? Because most people don’t expect me to murder them.

MITCHELL: You listen to true crime podcasts, don’t you?

ME: Kind of a forward question, don’t you think?

MITCHELL: You’re just sitting around listening to true crime podcasts in your sweater and jeans, aren’t you?

ME: Well, if you really want to know…I’m wearing a tiny camisole and boy shorts since it’s so warm in here. You might not recognize me either because I look a lot hotter than I do on Facebook.

I watch the dots as he types a reply. Heart racing, boy shorts flooded from the banter and anticipation alone. God, how would my body respond to this man if he were actually in the same room with me?

He has been a very quick responder thus far, so he is either trying to find an appropriate GIF response, explaining what he’s currently doing with one of his hands in great detail, or keeps reconsidering and deleting his responses.

Three dots, three dots, three dots…

This is taking forever.

It’s taking forever and a day.

And now the dots are gone.

And now they’re back.

And now they’re gone again.

I can’t believe I told him I’m in my underwear.

I should have played harder to get.

I’m going to die alone.

This is all Christmas’s fault.

Shit.

CHAPTERTWO

mitchell

Shit.

I came on too strong.

She’s out of my sext league.

I blew it.

I am clearly not ready for this sort of thing.

Agnes snorts and stares up at me, like,Dude. You’re beyond ready for it. You’re just not good at it. Gimme another treat and then go deal with that thing in your pants. Yeesh.

I get up from the sofa to grab her a homemade treat because she deserves one and because Idoneed to go deal with the thing in my pants.

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