Page 36 of Dom

My desktop computer signals the arrival of the email I’ve been waiting for, so I turn back to my screen.

I’m reading through the email when my phone buzzes with Savannah’s reply.

My hands go to my keyboard to type up the reply, but then I remember the text and glance down.

Big Guy: Did you have a nice day, Shorty?

Not Savannah.

My cheeks are hot.

Why are my cheeks hot?

Me: Pretty normal. How about you?

Send.

Big Guy: Mine was pretty normal, too. But I couldn’t stop thinking about this knockout I met at the airport this week.

Knockout?

Swoon.

Me: Oh yeah? I bet she was super funny and brilliant.

Send.

I groan.

Why am I so weird?

Big Guy: You think I would settle for anything less?

Gah, he’s so perfect.

Me: Of course not. I’ve seen your face.

Send.

I groan again.

I’ve seen your face?

Me: I don’t mean that in a serial killer way.

Send.

Me: I meant that I’ve seen how handsome your face is.

Send.

Me: And that obviously you wouldn’t have to settle since you look the way you do.

Send.

Me: Reimplementing the blocking request. See text from two days ago.

Send.

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