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“Not until 1:00.”

“Man, I miss those days. Don’t ever stop going to school. Being a grown-up isn’t as great as they say it is.”

“Luckily I have one more year of school after this.”

“What’s your major?”

I bit my lip and thought for a moment before typing my response. It was another personal information question. I still wasn’t sure how far I wanted to go with providing personal information to someone I’d never actually met. Ultimately, I decided to just say “fuck it” and answer. It seemed like a harmless enough question. “Art. Emphasis in photography.”

“Really? Would you show me some of your work sometime?”

“Maybe. The jury is still out on you being a serial killer or not.” I was only half joking. Showing my work to Mason felt way too personal for someone I’d just met…via text.

“Dang. You caught me. I was hoping it would take you longer to figure out.” A second message quickly followed with a winking emoji.

“Good thing I’m smart and sexy.” As soon as I hit “send” I regretted it. It’d just come out before I could mentally filter it. I hoped Mason would gloss over it and not notice. “Sexy” wasn’t where I wanted the conversation to go, but then I also didn’t want Mason to think I was a total weirdo and call more attention to it. Damn my fast typing fingers and slow, hungover brain.

“Since you put it out there, want to show me how sexy you are and send me a picture?” I wrinkled my nose at Mason’s message. It really made the whole thing worse. Not only was he clearly not ignoring it, but I really didn’t like the whole vibe of his message. It was…well, it definitely crossed the line into creeper territory.

“Nope,” was all I initially typed back. I waited to see if he was going to respond, and when he didn’t, I sent another message. “You realize how creepy that message was, right? It was definitely a point in the serial killer column.” Maybe if I made a joke about it, the whole conversation would drop?

“Wait…are you the one with six eyes and an extra arm?” I was mentally kicking myself for even bringing up the whole “sexy” comment in the first place. Did looks really matter that much?

I decided to go ahead and just ask. “Would it matter if I was?”

I laid under the blankets in my bed staring at the screen of my phone waiting for a response. I could feel time ticking by.

No response. Not even the little bubbles indicating he was typing something.

That wasn’t a good sign.

I waited a few more minutes and still no response. I started to get really anxious that either: A) He was not going to respond, or B) He was going to respond that it did matter and looks were important.

I wasn’t sure which would be worse. Especially after what I’d been through with my ex, Oliver. It’d been almost a year since I ended things with him, but there were still lingering parts that stung. Appearance was one of those parts.

I waited a few more minutes, and when it was abundantly clear he wasn’t going to respond, I typed out a quick message before throwing my phone on the bed and heading off to grab a cup of coffee before taking a shower. “I think the fact there’s no response is answer enough. I’m out.”

Bree was leaning against the kitchen counter holding a mug when I walked in. “There’s more coffee over there if you want some,” she said, nodding towards the coffee pot on the opposite counter.

I grabbed a mug from the cabinet. “Thanks. How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Full of regret for that last round.” Bree took a slow sip of her coffee. “Actually maybe for those last two rounds.”

I poured myself a cup of coffee and was glad to see the creamer already on the counter. Bree took her coffee black, so Sarah must’ve been awake as well. “I’m right there with ya, girl. Where’s Sarah?” I asked as I poured a healthy dose of cream into the dark brew.

Bree set her cup down before hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. “She had a lunch meeting with her advisor. She left a few minutes ago.”

The coffee tasted good and I could feel it slicing through the last little bits of my hangover. I took a few more sips in silence as I felt the caffeine continue to work its way through my system. “I’m going to hit the shower,” I finally said. “I have class at one.”

Bree raised her eyebrows as she peered over her coffee cup. “Is it the Art History class with that cute boy, Liam?”

I sighed. It was not the first time since my breakup with Oliver that Bree had tried to push me back into the dating field…a field I wasn’t very experienced at playing in. When you moved around as much as I did before college, it was hard to make friends and nearly impossible to actually date someone. “It’s not like that,” I told her. Liam was also an art major, but was a year ahead of me in school. We’d been friends for a while, and he was literally one of the nicest people I’d ever met.

“I think he wants it to be like that,” Bree said with a smirk before taking on a far more serious tone. “You’ve got to put yourself back out there, Anna. Not all guys are superficial, controlling jerks like Oliver.”

“I’m way too hungover for this conversation.” Truth was, even if I wasn’t hungover, it was still not a conversation I wanted to have. I decided to change the subject and hope Bree took the hint. What was the deal with starting the day off with shitty conversation topics? “I need to take a shower and get some food in me before class. What are you doing today?” I topped off my coffee mug in preparation of heading towards the shower.

Bree looked at me for a moment before responding. She knew exactly what I was attempting to do, and bless her for going along with it. “I have declared it a No Class for Bree day. My schedule is going to be full of Netflix watching and sofa lounging.”

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