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I haven’t texted or called her since I saw her last Sunday. Every morning, I want to text her to see how the girls are doing, but I stop myself each time. If she needs you, she will text you, I repeat the same thing every morning. Then every night, when I want to call her after I know the kids have gone to bed. But now she’s texted me, so I have to answer her.
Me: You have no idea what you’re talking about.
I put the phone down and try to pay attention to the conversation going on beside me, but all I can think about is Koda. Seeing her on Sunday with my family and having the girls with me felt so natural. It also fucked with my head because I knew it shouldn’t feel natural. Nothing about this situation is natural. The phone buzzes next to me, and I pick it up again. This time, my heart picks up speed.
Koda: She went undercover to save the Miss America pageant.
Me: She drove a bus, a big-ass city bus to save people.
I’m about to put the phone down, but I see the bubbles with the three dots come up, and I know she’s texting me back. I stare at the screen for a couple of seconds before her reply comes through.
Koda: She had to learn how to walk in heels and juggle.
Me: Did you miss my text about the huge-ass bus she had to learn how to drive? And then she hit the carriage with the cans. Speed will forever be her number-one movie.
Koda: Okay, fine, what about The Lake House?
I roll my eyes before I answer her.
Me: Even she wants to pretend that movie never happened. That was fucking horrible, I think more horrible than any other movie out there. It was not a good comeback for either her or Keanu.
“Who are you texting?” Cole asks from beside me as he leans in to grab the bottle of beer he is having with his burger.
“Is it that chick you brought to the season opener?” Andreas asks from in front of me.
“Kelly.” Cole snaps his fingers, coming up with the name.
“It’s Keely,” I correct him, but I also don’t tell him if it’s her or not.
“Keely,” Cole says, “that’s what I meant.” He takes a bite of his burger, and I put the phone down to eat my own. “So it’s going good?”
“It’s okay,” I lie through my fucking teeth. “She’s a cool girl.”
He just nods as he chews, and I take a bite of my burger, hoping the conversation stops right there. Nick is the one who changes the conversation and instead talks about the game tomorrow. I don’t pick up my phone again until we leave the restaurant and walk back to the hotel.
Every single minute that goes by, I’m anxious to get to my room to take out my phone. I take out the phone the second the door closes behind me. I see I missed three messages from Koda, and the last one was sent twenty minutes ago.
Koda: Yeah, The Lake House was not their finest moment.
Koda: Two Weeks Notice, now that was a great one. Hugh Grant was good in that one. I mean, not as good as Love Actually or even Notting Hill, but still decent.
Koda: Okay, The Proposal. She raps in that and everything. Plus Ryan Reynolds makes everything better.
I can’t help but laugh at the way she’s going all in with Sandra Bullock.
Me: Is she your favorite actress?
I don’t know if she’s still up or not, and when I look over at the side table clock, I see that it’s only eight thirty. I kick off my shoes, heading toward the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Falling on top of the white covers, I sink straight down to the mattress with the flimsy pillows. I grab the two beside me and tuck them under my head.
Koda: No, I don’t think so anyway. I don’t know if I have a favorite actress. Why? Do you?
Me: I mean Margot Robbie is not bad on the eyes. Gal Gadot is another one. Oh, Scarlett Johansson. Charlize Theron is another one.
I put the phone on my stomach before grabbing the remote to the television from the side table and turning it on, switching channels, trying not to think about the fact I’m texting Koda and it has nothing to do with the girls.
The phone vibrates.
Koda: So you choose the movies according to if there is a hot girl? Interesting.
