ZEKE: Okay. I didn’t moo at it.
I laugh again and lean against the bed. It’s nice to “hear” his voice, to fall back into our familiar rhythm again, even if it’s just texting. Of course, that’s all it’s been since he left. Texts. And never about THAT KISS. What was that? How did that even happen? And what happens if it meant something different to him than it did to me? What if it meant nothing to him?
My stomach drops as I realize how much I’ve come to depend on him being here. And the season is only just starting.
I get up to brush my teeth and wash my face, and when I get back, he’s still texting.
The speech bubble with three dots pulses and then disappears. Then it pulses again. I climb under the covers and take a big drink of water.
ZEKE: What are you doing up so late?
ME: It’s not that late here.
ZEKE: I woke you up, didn’t I?
ME: Little bit.
ZEKE: Sorry.
ME: It’s okay. I passed out prematurely.
ZEKE: Faye Ellen Benington! Did you [whispers] *get shit-faced*?
I laugh, picturing him leaning in to whisper it in my ear. Just the thought of his warm breath brushing across my earlobe and the sensitive skin at the crook of my neck sends warmth pooling in my core.
ME: Little bit.
ZEKE: Tequila?
ME: You know me so well.
The bubble with three dots flashes again for a long time, and I fluff my pillows.
ZEKE: Are you still drunk?
ME: Little less.
Again, he’s quiet for a minute, and the speech bubble seems to sit for a while.
ZEKE: Are you in bed?
My throat feels thick and I swallow hard. Of course I’m in bed. He knows where I sleep. There’s only one reason he would ask this. Probably to say he should sign off and let me sleep off my night. But that shouldn’t make me all hot and twitchy.
ME: Yes.
ZEKE: What are you doing?
ME: Texting you.
ZEKE: Are you alone?
Of course I’m alone. He’s never known me to bring home a guy, and it seems silly to ask, especially after that kiss. Again, I swallow thickly and bite my lower lip as I respond.
ME: Yes.
ME: Are you alone?
ZEKE: Yes