“This mistake might cost me a client.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“I didn’t say it was, simply making a statement.”
“It’s not a fact though…”
I can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Observation, whatever, but I didn’t say it was your fault.”
“You sound like you blame me,” I retort.
“Never,” he promises. “I should figure out how to get in touch with my client though.”
“That would be a wise choice to make. Why did you have to reschedule?”
“Are we getting personal now, Delia?”
“Is that a personal question?”
“Depends on my answer, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it does.”
“I was needed. Had to help mend the broken heart of my roommate. Tinder date gone bad and all that.” I hear what sounds like a refrigerator door opening in the background, then there’s the soft hiss of a bottle opening. “And you assumed I was your brother, right? Is he upset you missed your date?”
“We usually speak before our lunch dates and he called to reschedule. I thought it was weird he was mentioning it again, but I didn’t think much of it. He’s a strange character so it wasn’t too unusual.”
“And how did he call you if you thought this was his number?”
“He used his landline.”
“Those still exist?” he says with surprise in his voice.
“Apparently so.”
“Hmm…” I hear him take a drink of whatever it is he’s drinking. “Quite the coincidence, huh?”
“The biggest of big,” I agree.
“So I’m the only one on the outs here.”
“It seems that way.”
“Unfortunate.”
“For you.”
“There’s that sass again, Delia.”
“There it is,” I deadpan.
We’re quiet, and I check to see if he’s still on the line.
“Well, this has been fun,” he says after several seconds of silence.
I hate to admit it, but I’m sad our call is ending. For the first time in a week, I feel normal and not like Caleb’s ex-girlfriend who everyone gives sad smiles to. Don’t they know it was mutual? Don’t they know I wanted this and don’t need their pity? Don’t they know I’m okay? Sure, I miss Caleb. He was an incredible boyfriend, the perfect guy, really, but he wasn’t my perfect guy, and we’re both okay with it.
“Sorry about your meeting, Zach.”
“Sorry about…well, nothing, Delia. It was a pleasure talking with you.”
“You too.”
We stay on the line for several beats until he finally disconnects the call.
Sitting there on the bench, I watch the bustle of students running from class to class. What in the hell just happened? How did that happen? And why in the hell did he call me? He’s brave, because I’d never hit the telephone icon and strike up a conversation with a stranger.
But maybe that’s part of my problem. I let myself fall into these patterns and then when I grow bored, I don’t do anything about it. Hell, I did the same thing with Caleb. I grew too comfortable with him and he stopped revving my engine, but I allowed us to keep going on even when I knew we’d be better as friends than anything else.
“Hey, you headed to 103?”
Speaking of…
I shield my eyes against the sun and stare up at him. “As soon as I can convince myself to move off this bench.”
“Dreading the quiz?”
“Are they ever fun?”
“That’s an excellent point.” He extends a hand and pulls me up. “So, what has you smiling like this?”
I can’t help it—my smile grows wider and my face heats up.
“Oh! I’m guessing the proper question is who has you smiling.”
It should feel awkward; the question should sound wrong coming from Caleb, but it doesn’t. He already feels like an old friend. We don’t have the dreaded “ex vibes” going on.
“You know, I’m not entirely sure who he was, but he wasn’t horrible to talk with.” Caleb gives me a funny look but I wave him off, hoping he’ll let it go for now. I grab his arm, pulling him along. “Come on or we’ll be late. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Zach: How come when I order a large pizza for myself for lunch I receive one of “those” looks from the delivery guy?
* * *
Me: Wait, wait, wait…you work from home?
* * *
Zach: Yes, but not the point. Let’s focus on the pizza delivery guy and his sassy stares here.
* * *
Me: Well I imagine you’re answering the door in your pajamas with uncombed hair, so you appear all sad and heartsick…or just sick. Or weird. Or a creeper. Yeah, you know what, you DO look like a creeper.
* * *
Zach: I would take offense, but you’re probably right.
* * *
Me: Probably?
* * *
Zach: That’s the story I’m sticking with.
* * *
Me: I think the point of view on your story is skewed.
* * *
Zach: YOU’RE SKEWED.
* * *
Zach: God. That was awful. Forget I sent that.
* * *
Me: *screenshot*
* * *
Zach: You’re evil. I knew there was at least one redeeming quality about you.
* * *
Me: And what about my smart mouth?
* * *
Zach: You’re right—one and a half.
* * *
Me: I’ll take my winnings where I can.
“…is due on Thursday. I’ll see you all then.”
The buzzing of students putting away their laptops and notebooks pulls me from my stupor. Shit. I missed the entire last part of the lecture.
“Caleb, what are we turning in?”
“He has you off in dreamland, huh?”
“Who?”
He nods toward the phone gripped tightly in my hand. “Whoever has had you smiling for the last ten minutes of class.”
“Is that weird for you?” I ask as I follow him down the stairs and out into the hall.
“Nah.” He lifts a shoulder. “We’re not together anymore. If you’re happy, I’m happy for you, D.”
“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t, but that’s nice to know.”
“But…”
He smirks when I don’t continue. “Spit it out, woman.”
“But!” I say loudly. “Would it be weird if I was dating someone?”
“I told you, Delia, I’m happy for you if you’re happy.”
I stop walking and it takes a moment for Caleb to notice I’m not next to him.
“D?”
“You’re a damn unicorn, Caleb.”
“Okaaaay…” He draws the word out, his brows pinched together.
“You’re my ex-boyfriend—my newly ex-boyfriend. How can you be so chill about this? How are you so…nice about this?”
“Am I supposed to be mean?”
“I…” I clasp my hands, trying to rub away the anxious feeling washing over me. “Well, no. I guess not. It’s just most guys wouldn’t be so chill about their ex maybe hitting it off with a new guy so soon after a breakup.” Not that I think I’m hitting it off with this mysterious Zach guy, but still.
He winks. “Unicorn, remember?”
Laughing, I roll my eyes and resume strolling along. “How did I ever let you go?”
“Who knows, especially with my huge co—”
I slap my hand over his mouth. “CALEB!”
He peels it away, grinning like he’s the king of the world. “What? I was going to say comic book collection.”
I roll over at the sound of my phone going off. Glancing at the bedside clock, I note it’s after eleven. What the… I have no idea who could be texting me because most of the people I know wou
ld be asleep by now, especially on a Monday night.
I swipe open my screen and a smile overtakes my face in an instant.
Zach: Why is it I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to fall asleep and I can’t because all I can think about is you?
* * *
Me: Are you trying to start a sexting convo?
* * *
Zach: What? No!
* * *
Zach: Shit. That did come out creepy, huh?
* * *
Me: See? I told you you’re a creeper.
* * *
Zach: Cat’s out of the bag now…
* * *
Me: Why are you thinking about me?
* * *
Zach: I suppose I could have been more specific. All I can think about is how you’ve potentially cost me a client. I won’t know until Thursday.
* * *
Me: IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! If anything, it was your roommate’s fault. Blame him!
* * *
Zach: I already did. Would have anyway. I coerced him into buying me beer to go with my leftover pizza.
* * *
Me: There’s such a thing as leftover pizza?
* * *
Zach: Are you trying to make me fall in love with you, Delia?
* * *
Me: Depends on if it’s working or not.
* * *
Zach: Smooth.
* * *
Me: Good night, Zach.
* * *
Zach: Sweet dreams, Delia.
Three
Zach: You want to know what’s horrible?
* * *
Me: Your face.
* * *
Me: OH BURNNNNN!
* * *
Me: Do you need some aloe?
* * *
Me: Zach?
* * *
Me: ZACH?! Are you mad? Was that too far?
* * *
Zach: Sorry, had to call my friend and ask him to drive me to the hospital so I could have my wounds checked out.
* * *
Zach: Also, you’re the worst.
* * *
Me: Worst…or BEST?
* * *
Zach: I’m going away now.
* * *
Me: WAIT! You never told me what’s horrible!
* * *
Zach: Oh, I didn’t? It’s
* * *
Me: Zach?
* * *
Me: ZACH
* * *
Me: ZACH?!
* * *
Me: YOU’RE the worst.
* * *
Zach: Or best, right?
* * *
Me: Sure, we’ll go with that.
* * *
Me: Why’d you text me? Is this our “thing” now? Texting?
* * *
Zach: Well I was only going to tell you about how the client loved our wrong number story so much he signed on the dotted line and then I was going to leave you alone, BUT…prepare yourself for daily texts until I grow bored.
* * *
Me: BORED? You’ll never grow bored of me!
* * *
Zach: We’ll see, won’t we?
* * *
Me: Do you do this with everyone? Climb inside their heads and psych them out?
* * *
Zach: Is that what’s happening? What exactly am I doing that’s wigging you out?
* * *
Me: Now my stupid brain says, “YOU’RE BORING!” And you’re over here like, “When I’m bored, it’s bye-bye.” So you’re going to let me get all attached and then BOOM, rip that rug right out from under me, HUH?
* * *
Zach: Are you finished?
* * *
Me: I think so.
* * *
Me: Sorry. Sometimes I get a little crazy.
* * *
Zach: A little? I couldn’t tell.
* * *
Me: Will you hold it against me?
* * *
Zach: Absolutely I will.
Me: Are you into anything weird? You seem like the type…
* * *
Zach: Are YOU trying to start a sexting convo?
* * *
Me: Omg. That DID sound super pervy.
* * *
Me: I meant, like, weird hobbies. I assumed we were on the same page here. Come on, Zach, you should know all this by now. We’re practically best friends.
* * *
Zach: You’re right. Total screw-up on my part.
* * *
Zach: My hobbies include working, working some more, and a video game marathon every now and then.
* * *
Me: So…you have no life?
* * *
Zach: Hey, whoa! I didn’t say that.
* * *
Me: You didn’t have to.
* * *
Zach: And, pray tell, what are YOUR oh-so-incredible hobbies?
* * *
Me: Well, if you must know, I enjoy…knitting.
* * *
Zach: And you say I’M the one with no life.
* * *
Zach: Are you secretly 80 or something?
* * *
Me: I AM NOT 80! I enjoy it. It’s cathartic.
* * *
Zach: What kind of things do you knit?
* * *
Me: Blankets. Hats. Socks. Potholders.
* * *
Zach: POTHOLDERS?! Wow. I’m sold.
* * *
Me: You know what? I’ll knit you something extra special and send you a pic. Give me two hours.
* * *
Zach: I’m waiting with bated breath.
Zach: Are you still alive or did you drown in a sea of yarn?
* * *
Me: Omg, Zach. You can’t just ask someone if they drowned in yarn. Did your mother not teach you any manners?
* * *
Zach: We didn’t get that far…
* * *
Me: Oh.
* * *
Zach: Hi, I’m Zach, I’m a mood killer.
* * *
Me: Hi, Zach. Thanks for being so forthcoming with that information AFTER you begged me to be your texting best friend.
* * *
Zach: So, what did you knit me?
* * *
Me: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
* * *
Zach: ARE THOSE PENIS POTHOLDERS!
* * *
Zach: You dirty, dirty girl.
* * *
Zach: I am laughing so fucking hard right now. Thank you for that.
* * *
Me: You likey?
* * *
Zach: I likey.
* * *
Me: I’ll think of you every single time I use them.
* * *
Zach: You’re too kind. They’re a wonderful gift I doubt I’ll ever receive.
* * *
Me: Hey, Zach?
* * *
Zach: Yes?
* * *
Me: I…I didn’t mean to bring up your mom. I had no idea.
* * *
Zach: Don’t sweat it. You’re still my favorite penis potholder maker…this week.
* * *
Me: Is there anything else I should know about you? Any other subjects that are off the table?
* * *
Zach: I hate clowns and bunnies. That’s about it.
* * *
Me: I’m sorry…BUNNIES?! How is that possible?
* * *
Zach: Don’t judge me. I’m sure there’s something weird out there that you’re afraid of.
* * *
Me: I can’t think of anything like that. Mine is just normal stuff, like spiders and snakes and volcanoes.
Let's Get Textual Page 2