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Wilby: I'll still take it.
Col:And not that it matters since you are too busy hating me, but just to clear things up, I like you more than I like your cock.
I re-read the message a couple of times, a funny skittering sensation pulsing in my chest. He likes me. Despite me ignoring him for the past few days and being openly, possibly slightly unreasonably, pissed at him, he likes me.
Present tense.
But not future tense. Get your mind back in the game, Wilby. You still can't be sure he's trustworthy, all you know is that he has great taste in men.
The bouncy dots appear, then this message pops up on my screen:
Col:Can we please have a serious conversation?
Wilby:I know you are, you said you are, but what am I?
What is wrong with me?
Enough with the texting already. I press the call button next to his name.
He answers with an exasperated sigh.
"The standard phone greeting in Australia ishelloorg'day," I inform him. "But answering a call with a sex noise is way better."
"Aaaaargh!"
I throw my head back and laugh, picturing how irritated he must be looking right now.
"Mate, relax. Why are you so stressed?"
"Why am I stressed?Why am I stressed?!How about you avoiding me these past few days, wasting my time, forcing me to drive out to the farm, which you know takes forever, and you have the nerve?—"
"How was Gran's meringue?"
He pauses. "Delicious."
"She makes the best ones."
"She really does." Another short break. "Listen, Wilby. Can you be serious for a minute?"
"Your time starts now."
He sighs. "Fine. When are you coming back to Scuttlebutt?"
"Dunno."
"Okay. When are you free to have a Zoom call to go over a few things?"
"Dunno."
His voice grows tighter. "Wilbyyy."
My cock perks up. Is it wrong that the more I irk Col, the more turned on I get? Yep, it is. That is very, very wrong. I need help.
"And look at that," I say. "Time's up."
"That wasn't a minute."
"Maybe not. But I have to go. I'm meeting…a friend."
