My phone rings, Becca's smiling face showing up on the screen. “Who is she?” I say instead of hello.
“I dunno, I didn't even know her name till I saw the photos online.”
“Was she flirting with him all night?”
“Umm,” she thinks for a moment. She's stalling to save my feelings.
“I knew it,” I say. “What a bitch.”
“She was all over every guy last night, Bayleigh. I don't think you should worry.”
I go back to Stacia's page and stare at the Facebook warning telling me I have to be her friend to view her full profile. “Are you online right now?” I ask her.
“You know I am.”
“Add her as a friend, and then let me know if Ian's posted any comments on her page.” She whines. It takes a few more minutes to coerce her into doing it, and I even have to pull the “You know I would do the same for you” card, but she finally agrees.
Now I have two things on the agenda for today: wait for Ian's next text message and wait for Becca to call me back with details on Stacia's page. I watch an episode of Supernatural, paint my nails, brush my teeth and stare at the ceiling for a million hours until he finally writes me back. His texts are so sporadic, but getting them totally makes my day.
Ian:I want to see you.
I write back,I wish. Mom will be home soon.
I refresh my homepage. No new comments. My phone vibrates.Send me a pic.
Me:That's not the same as seeing me…
I know it's totally against the rules to double text a guy you're crushing on, but I do it anyway.
Me:Speaking of photos, I just saw a ton of you and some girl??? on your profile…
Fifteen minutes later, no reply. Shit, that was a mistake. I bite my lip and do something terrible. I triple text.Where'd ya go?
He replies immediately.Waiting on your pic.Ugh. I send him a photo from my phone's storage of images. It's of me and a kitten. He replies,sexy… anymore?
Me:Who was that girl?
My thumbs ache from pressing the screen so hard.
Ian:No one, pic please? I miss you.
I don't know why he needs so many photos of me when there are hundreds online. I turn my phone's camera on myself, stick out my tongue and cross my eyes and snap a photo. I send it to him.
Ian:Come on, you can do sexier than that.
Me:Sexier? What does that mean? I'm not a Sports Illustrated model.
Ian:Shirtless.
My heart races. No. Freaking. Way.
Twenty-five persuasive texts later and I'm standing in the bathroom in my bra, phone camera ready. I so cannot do this. The neighbor's dog starts barking and soon our dog Patch joins him. I know all guys care about sex but why does he want this photo so badly?
I bet Stacia would send him a photo. I wonder if she already has.
I shift my leg, tilt my hips and shoulder like a model. Purse my lips. I look silly. I switch out my bra for a padded one. Better. I still don't want to do this.
I don't feel sexy at all. I feel stupid. But maybe this will get him to stop saying he doesn't want a relationship. I hold out my phone, using the mirror to check my pose. The dogs are still barking. The back door slams shut. Shit, Mom's home.
