Oh.Right.
I’m locking your number in now.Perhaps I’ll save it under the ice cream emoji, then I’ll always know it’s you.
Or you could just save it under my name.
I could, but what’s the fun in that?
Right…so I was wondering…
Wondering what, Mr.Westinghouse?
When I can see you again?
“Girl, whoisyou texting over there?”
“Nobody.”
“Oh, it’s somebody.You haven’t stopped cheesing since you picked up the phone.”
I snicker and say, “It’s Judah.”
“Dang.He has you smiling like that?What happened to just being friends?”
“Nothing.Wearefriends.”
“Chile, please.Skip a diagnosis.If a man made me smile like that, I’d be all over it.”
“Riley!”
“What?I’m just saying.Take it from a P.E.teacher with no prospects—you’re winning.Plus, he fine.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
My bad.You are busy.
No, I’m not.I’m calling you now.
You don’t have to.
I want to.
I dial his number.I didn’t even hear the line ring before he says, “Hi.”
“Hey.Hold on a sec.”
“Okay.”
The feeling that toys with my nerves and sends shivers down my spine when I hear his voice should be studied.All of my happy hormones are fluttering, having a field day, and making me feel weightless.
I mouth to Riley, “I’ll be right back,” and step outside of her duplex.Leaning against the hood of my car, I say, “Okay.I’m here.What’s up, Judah?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?You called me fornothing?”
“No.I—okay, how are you doing?”
“I’m doing well.You?”
