Page 48 of Rude Boss 2

I put on some gym shorts and head to the workout room. Laying back on the bench, I decide to lift weights to burn off some frustration and take my mind off Quintessa, but I can’t stop thinking about her. With every pump of iron – every breath I take, she’s there – her voice, her scent. Her likeness. I feel the anguish of being away from her burn in these overworked muscles, but my heart isn’t beating fast enough for my liking. I want to completely exhaust myself so that feeling takes away the emptiness I feel without her. I hop on the treadmill, jog for a few miles, and when I’m good and sweaty, my phone beeps. Thinking it could be her, I stop the machine, grab a towel to wipe my face and head, then pick up the phone to see a text message. I smile. It’s from her. My girl.

Quintessa: hey

Essex: hi

Quintessa: I was going to ask you what you’re doing on a Saturday but I already know your answer.

Essex: what’s that?

Quintessa: sitting around, being bored

Essex: more like, sitting around, being bored and thinking about you.

Quintessa: really?

Essex: yes. Really. I miss you.

She waits a while before replying, so to keep the conversation going, I send her another message.

Essex: how’s your mother?

Quintessa: she’s okay. I took dinner over there on Wednesday. When I saw her yesterday, she’d taken the bandage off.

Essex: that’s good. How are you?

Quintessa: I’m fine now that I know she’s fine.

Essex: good. Now, stop texting me and call me.

Quintessa: LOL

Essex: I’m serious. Call me

Quintessa: why can’t I text you?

Essex: I don’t want you to text me. I can’t hear your voice over text.

Quintessa: okay…just a sec, boss

Moments later, I hear my phone ringing. I answer immediately with, “There she is.”

“You’ve been looking for me?”

“I’ve been missing you.”

“I miss you too…a lil’ bit.”

“Wow,” I say grinning.

“I’m kidding. I did miss you. I had time to think about everything you’ve done for me and I’m grateful for you. I appreciate everything. Thank you, Essex.”

I don’t say anything. I let her words travel through my soul. They make my heart race faster than all the exercises I’ve done thus far. I ask, “Can you come over?”

“Wh—can I—can I come over—like—right—now?”

“Yes, Tessie. Right now.”

“So, that’s why you wanted me to call? So you could put me on the spot?”

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