Page 23 of Our Secret Moments

ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD

CAT

You knowthat feeling when you first bring a puppy home and they’ve overcome that awkward stage where they’re adjusting to the new environment. It’s usually only a few days in where they start to become their hyperactive self, jumping off furniture, biting holes into socks and slippers, practically bouncing off the wall.

That’s a pretty accurate description as to how Connor has been acting since he told me he needed my help.

Don’t get me wrong, I want to help him. All I’ve done today is plan ideas and questions to ease him into the interviewing process. But every time I write a new question down, alternating between picking up my phone or getting a snack, I get a new text from him. I’m toying with him, using the day to recoup on ideas before reaching out to him. Still, he’s as eager as ever as he continuously texts me as I lounge on the couch in the empty dorm, watching my favourite TV show.

Connie

Tomorrow night? I don’t have a game.

I’m busy.

Connie

Monday?

I’m busy.

Connie

Tuesday?

If your next question is Wednesday, don’t bother texting me.

I shut off my phone, hiding it in the cushions. Maybe if I don’t look at it, I won’t have the urge to text him and rile him up. I hit play on the episode of Desperate Housewives as I pull up my document on a separate slide. I’m about to start transferring my notes into my physical notebook before I hear repeated buzzing sounds coming from the cushions. This man just won’t give up, will he?

He’s spam-texting me.

Even better.

I ignore all of his messages and press the call button instead. Leaning my phone against my ear, I look out onto the nearly empty courtyard from my window. It’s one of the perks of having a luxury room where the sunsets and sunrises look ten times prettier. I don’t get a chance to enjoy the deep blue sky before Connor’s voice booms down the phone.

“Catherine Fables, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he drawls. I can justhearthe smile on his face.

“Can you stop texting me? Or I’m going to block your number. You just got phone privileges, you really don’t want them revoked already,” I say playfully.

“So, you don’t have a three-point strike system in place?” he asks. I greet him with silence, not enabling his stupidity. “Fine,” he concedes, “I’ll just have to find another way to text you. Why are you avoiding this, Cat?”

“I’m not avoiding it,” I say, closing the tab of my show. That’s been ruled out now. “I really am busy.”

“Yeah, doing what?” he asks. I dip my apple slice into the peanut butter, covering it completely before shoving it into my mouth.

“Busy people things,” I respond around a mouthful.

“Busy people things, huh?” he repeats.

“Mm hm,” I muffle. He sighs loudly.

“Open the door, Catherine. I’ve been standing outside for the last ten minutes.”

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. What the hell…

“Ten minutes?” I repeat. “I called you two minutes ago.”

He groans at me like I’m missing something. “Yeah, and I’ve been standing out here for ten.”

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