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Me and few close buddies had just started drinking early on a Friday afternoon when my cell phone buzzed, signifying an incoming text. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that the message was from Amber.
My excitement must have shown on my face, as the guy closest to me, a big dude named Dave, immediately knew something was going on.
“Who’s it from?” Dave asked, edging closer to me to take a look at the screen. “Holy shit, that’s from Amber, right?”
I nodded. Pretty much every other freshman (and probably most of the upper-classmen, too) at our little private university knew about my exploits with Amber. It’s not like I went around bragging about, but it was such a crazy story that once I’d let the cat out of the bag while drunk at a party one night, it spread like wildfire.
It had turned me into a bit of celebrity, and not only with the other guys. Sure, some of the girls thought it was gross but the vast majority of them didn’t seem to mind at all. And to be honest, the fact that I’d spent multiple nights with a pornstar seemed to elevate me in their eyes. Perhaps it was the idea that to have scored with a pornstar I must actually have a clue what I was doing in bed was what did it. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. But that fact of the matter was I rarely had trouble finding a girl to sleep with after a night of partying.
But still my heart was with Amber. That isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy my nights with the other girls (some more than other, of course) but none of them could ever even approach Amber, let alone displace her. After all, why settle for ground beef when you could have Filet Mignon?
Anyway, after Dave announced the author of my text to the room, everyone immediately started to gather around. It wasn’t long before I was in the center of a circle created by drunk nineteen-year college kids that couldn’t hold their liquor to save their lives.
“Are you going to open it?” someone asked.
“In front of you animals?” I replied. “Hell no.”
“Come on,” someone else cried out. “We want to see what it says.”
“Too fucking bad,” I said.
“That’s because you’re afraid it’s going to tell you to fuck off,” came the good-natured ribbing from yet another one of my friends.
“Yeah right,” I called out, pumping my voice up with false confidence to cover up the butterflies that were churning in my stomach. “She worships the ground I walk on.”
“We’ll see about that,” Dave said as he snatched my phone out of my hands and high-tailed it for the other side of the room. The crowd hustled to keep up with him.
I didn’t even bother trying to retrieve it. I knew it was no use. And to be honest, I didn’t really care if they saw what she’d sent. I was confident it wouldn’t be something bad. Amber wasn’t like that. She didn’t cop-out by sending bad news by text. She said it to your face. That’s just the way she was.
“Here we go boys,” Dave’s voice cried out. “Let’s see what our favorite pornstar sent our little douchebag of a friend.”
He pressed the button. Silence. Which was good. It meant there was nothing inflammatory in the text. Good or bad, if it was something interesting my friends would be taunting me about it. The fact that they didn’t say a thing could mean only one thing. It was a boring message.
Dave brought my phone back over and handed it to me.
“Here you go,” he said.
“Thanks,” I replied. I looked at the message. It simply said: CALL ME.
So I called her, taking the phone into one of the bedrooms and locking the door before I did so, of course. No reason to let the others hear just one side of the conversation. If it was worth repeating, I would telling them all about it soon enough. And if it wasn’t, I didn’t want them to know.
“Hey Scott,” Amber after answering the phone. “What are you up to?”
“Not much,” I said. “What about you?”
“Well, actually I’m on my way to the East Coast for a couple of conventions. I’m just about to get on a plane right now.”
“Cool,” I said, not really sure where this was going.
“Anyway, my flight just happens to be coming in to your city this evening, and I just happen to have a little layover.”
“Is that right?” I said, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. “How long are you here for?”
“Just under 24 hours.”
My mind screamed: 24 hours! Fucking awesome!! But not wanting to be too presumptuous, I merely said, “That’s pretty cool. Do you have any plans?”
“Actually I do,” Amber said.
