“If I was being chased by a homicidal maniac, you’d be more likely to trip me than help me.”She smiled while scrolling through the options.“What about something romantic?”
“You hate chick flicks.”
“You know we’ll go back and forth and wind up on action.Just pick something so I can start it and get off this call faster.And don’t sayDie Hard.We’ve watched it like fifteen times this month.”
“It’s a classic.”
“So isSnow Whiteand you never choose that.”
“She lives with seven men.It’s pornography in disguise.The animators were a step away from drawing pedophilia in action.”
“Shh!”she said, stretching her legs along the couch.“How many times have I told you to avoid using keywords?”
“This would be a lot easier if you’d just give me your number… and send me a picture.You don’t even have to get dressed, I’m low maintenance, I’ll take just your boobs.”
“And now if our Huddle monitors are listening, they know you’re pressuring me.”
“No pressure,” Hotshot said to any ears that may be listening.“I know you’re joking.They don’t.One or both of us gets kicked, that’s it.Bye-bye, double act.”
She sipped her daiquiri and selectedDie Hardon mute.“I’ll give you one trivial, if you hurry up and pick the movie.”
“One trivial?Is it my birthday?”
“Tick tock, Hotshot.”
“What are you wearing?”
Seriously?That was his question?Again?
She groaned.“That’s always your first trivial question.You should learn to mix it up.Shorts and a tank.”
“And you should try harder to tantalize me.Either it’s hot where you are or it’s night.Is it dark outside?”
“That’s not trivial.What’s the movie?”
“Die Hard,” he said.
“Oh, wow, what a surprise,” she said, unmuting the TV.“Are you going to quote the whole thing again?”
“Until you learn it word for word, yes.”
“Ready?”
“You know I don’t have to be watching it, I can just play it in my head.”
“If you’re not watching, I’m hanging up.”
“I’m watching.I’m watching, geez, Firefly.Thought your period didn’t start until next week.”
Hilarious?Nope, but she’d rise above it.Hotshot needed to work on his act.
Anonymity was their shield.They knew so many intimate details of each other and so few big things.They’d never exchanged names, numbers, addresses, yet she knew he wore silk boxers and drank his coffee black.Even their respective time zones were a mystery.
How had it started?Completely by accident.After facing off with him in half a dozen booths, Roux hosted her own, and, of course, he crashed.It wasn’t really crashing, anyone could join, but whatever.
By the end of that session, they were the only two left.From then on, they met every day, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes the whole night.They always met at the same time her booth had started that fateful night.They’d met by accident.Though, if she believed in it, fate could’ve been at play.
“Shut up,” she said.“The movie’s about to—”
