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“How’d it go?”
“We got the job done.”
I figured that happened a lot.
“Go you,” I replied.
“How was your night?”
“Weird.”
“Just a stab in the dark, but my guess, that’s not unusual.”
I started laughing and turned away from Cleo to lie on my side.
Cleo’s Labrador took control, and she shifted so she could rest her chin on my waist.
I reached for her head and started scratching.
“Why are you calling?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t going to postpone our date again.
Yeah.
Okay.
It happened. I couldn’t help it.
I gave up the fight.
Because I was into him.
“I’m calling because I was supposed to take you out tonight, I didn’t get to do that, that sucked, so I wanted to hear your voice before I wind down and go to bed.”
Great.
He could be sweet.
And great part two.
He was leaving me at the end of the night with thoughts of him going to bed.
“What do you want to hear my voice saying?” I asked. “I have the Pledge of Allegiance memorized, as any good American should. Or the lyrics to Fall Out Boys’, ‘Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down.’”
“Great song, but a fucked-up one.”
“Word.”
“Arguably, The Killers did it better with ‘Mr. Brightside.’”
Hang on.
“Whoa, you think ‘Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down’ is about a woman cheating?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
I thought about it. “I see that.”
“What’d you think it was about?”
