I tap the screen.
*Friend Request Sent*
Now, I wait.
I stare at her little profile picture. It’s her standing at the top of a hill that overlooks a river in Austin with the city skyline in the background. She’s gesturing at it with arms wide open and a huge smile on her face. She must’ve hiked up to that spot because she’s wearing tiny little denim shorts, a baby blue tank top that shows a peek of her tight, nipped-in waist, and rugged, dusty shoes. Her long, straight, brunette hair is tied back in a ponytail and has a reddish hue from the sunset behind her as the wind whips her hair around her neck and shoulders.
She’s kind of a little wisp of thing, but it only adds to this ingenue-like persona of hers. She doesn’t exactly strike me as being pure as freshly fallen snow, but there is an intriguing, unassuming innocence about her. Everything about her that I’ve seen is such a far cry from everything I’m used to that it only intensifies this new hankering I’ve developed to have just a taste of her—and then some.
“Ava, Ava, Ava…” I quietly admonish her as she smiles at me through the picture. “Don’t disappoint me now, doll.”
* * *
Ava
Three in theafternoon never fails to be the seventh inning stretch at work, and I never fail to need a coffee to keep me from dozing off at my desk. I drink itblack, not because I like it, but because I noticed a few years ago that cream and sugar cause a crash that basically makes the coffee useless.
Bringing the foam cup to my lips, I take a small sip and then cringe at theawfulflavor as I scroll with my opposite hand, mentally prioritizing emails.
My phone chirps on the desk, and I pick it up to see a notification that I have a Facebook friend request.
I squint at the screen. “D. Luca?”
Opening the app, I see that we have no mutual friends, and this person used a photo of Duke Ellington as their profile picture. Their city is listed as NYC, and I have no idea who this person is, but I’m curious, and you know what they say about curiosity.
Besides, if this is a creepy guy who immediately sends a dick pic, there’s always the block button, and I happen to be in a friendly mood anyway.
After accepting the request, I open my text messages and start typing one to Zoey.
Ava Herald: I’m so freaking tired. Want to skip out early and hit the gym or
My hasty typing is immediately interrupted by a chat bubble from the Facebook messenger app popping onto the center of the screen.
D. Luca: Ava
I curl my lip in annoyance and swipe away the chat, continuing to type my message to Zoey, but then it pops ups again.
D. Luca: This is Lucky De Luca. I need to talk to you.
My heart leaps into my throat, but then I scoff.
Ava Herald: Yeah right.
Just then, an incoming video call from this weirdo lights up my screen, and I scoff again as I hit the ignore button.
The chat bubble pops up again.
D. Luca: I’m serious. Talk to me.
Ava Herald: You’re a troll. Get out of my inbox or you get the block button.
D. Luca: You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, Ava.
My fingers freeze in place before I can swipe away the chat.
That’s exactly what the real Lucky said at his show.
I hesitate long enough that another video call comes in. I decide to answer this time, but not before I place my thumb over the front camera.
