One little hint?
And then waited. But instead of scrolling anywhere else, I actually stared at the screen. Yep, like I said to the girls, I was royally screwed.
Put it down. Turn off the light. And go to bed.
I actually began to sit up, to do just that, when a text bubble appeared. And then…
Still up, huh?
Slipping back down, repositioning myself in the middle of the pillow, I replied with a thumbs up.
Working?
Nope. Deep-cleaning keg lines tomorrow. Shut down early.
Did I wake you up?
Nope.
He was still typing.
And wouldn’t mind if you did.
I sent a smiley face.
How was ur night?
Amazing. Will tell you about it tomorrow!
Looking forward to it.
My pulse raced as I realized… I was too. Looking forward to seeing Beck. Who would’ve thought?
Nite nite.
:( leaving me already?
It wasn’t unusual. This entire conversation was one I could have had three months, or a year, or three years ago, with Beck. And yet, his words took on a whole new meaning now.
Aren’t you tired?
Are you?
A few minutes ago, yes. Very. Now?
Not really.
Whatcha want to do?
I mean, talk about?
The second text came through quickly.
I could ignore it.Shouldignore it.
Freudian slip?
My heart thudded as I waited for his answer. I was pushing it, but couldn’t seem to stop myself.
