Love,
Naomi
Dear Naomi,
I just meant an innocent picture of my face. Did you think I meant a dick pic? Come on! We’re not in high school anymore. All kidding aside, does your boyfriend know about our letters? Because I’ve learned the hard way that they can really destroy a relationship. I think anyone who reads them would know that I’m in love with you.
Love,
Luca
Dear Luca,
How can you say that you’re in love with me when we’ve never even met? If that’s how you think you feel, you should have told me a lot sooner. It’s too late now.
Love,
Naomi
Dear Naomi,
It’s not too late.
Love,
Luca
* * *
The letters come more often now that I know how to write back to him. On Friday morning, I’m still thinking about the last letter he put in my mailbox. I don’t know what to write back. It doesn’t seem to matter how mean or dismissive I am. He keeps writing back, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
“I found something interesting when I was doing the laundry.”
I thought I was done letting Anne scare the crap out of me, but when I hear her voice, I scream and almost fall out of my chair. I swivel around and glare at her.
“That’s it. I’m buying you a pair of stilettos with a metal heel,” I tell her. “Your shoes are too damn quiet.”
“I’m a sneaky snake,” she says. “But you’re even sneakier.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This.”
She tosses a wrinkled sheet of notebook paper at me. It floats toward my lap, but misses me entirely and lands on the floor. I pick it up and straighten it out. “Shit.”
I forgot to take this letter out of Anne’s pocket before giving her clothes back. I remember sneaking it in when Jake showed up at my apartment the day we went to the beach.
“This ranks right up there with all the creepy messages I get on my dating apps. It turned him on to watch your news report? You didn’t think this little development was worth mentioning? What about all the other letters he’s been sending to your place? What else is he saying to you?”
I fold the letter and tuck it under my keyboard. “None of your business.”
“I traveled to three different states with you looking for this guy. You let me read all the letters he sent to you in high school. Since when is this not my business?”
I groan. “Since it became a problem.”
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
I sigh, trying to decide how much I want to tell her. “I’ve been writing back to him.”
