Page 10 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

“You sound insane.”

She arches her brow at me. “I sound experienced.”

My phone buzzes almost immediately in her hand. Dani gasps. “He’s so into you!” I grab for the phone, laughing, but she twists away from me on the couch. “No. I’m steering now.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you, and I’m the more experienced drunk sexter. I won’t say anything bad, promise.” She finally tosses the phone back into my lap dramatically.

Bet you look pretty when you blush, too.

“Oh, I hate you,” I mutter. Mostly because she was absolutely right, he is making me blush. My cheeks feel warm enough to catch fire.

Dani smiles indulgently. “You absolutely do not.”

I’m not blushing because I’m shocked or offended; it’s just been so long since somebody flirted with me like this. Like they’re genuinely paying attention. Like they enjoy getting reactions out of me.

I look much the same when I blush as I do when I’m all hot and sweaty at the gym. So, not exactly.

Dani reads my reply, cackling with delight. “If you were trying to put him off, that’s not going to work. For one, he’s seen you all hot and sweaty at the gym and came onto you. Secondly, now you’ve made him think of other ways you might look all hot and sweaty,” she says with a wink. Dani watches my face closely and immediately starts cackling. “Oh, you’re gone.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not gone.”

“You’re one message away from climbing this man like a tree.”

I laugh into my almost-empty wine glass. My last drink, I mean it this time.

The phone buzzes again.

Let me see you then.

My stomach flips. “What does that mean?” I ask, my eyes widening in panic.

Dani snorts. “He wants a picture, Grandma.”

“Oh.”

I suddenly become hyperaware of myself. My messy hair and smudged makeup, the oversized sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder, my bare legs curled beneath me on the couch.

Dani rolls her eyes dramatically. “Sadie Cross, if you don’t send that man a selfie right now, I’ll do it for you.”

“I look awful.”

“You look hot in a divorced wine mom kind of way.” She waggles side to side.

I grimace. “That is not comforting.”

I open the front camera anyway. The screen startles me a little. Not because I look bad exactly, it’s just been a while since I’ve looked at myself like this. I look softer than I used to. Tired around the eyes, hair messy from wine and laughing, and running my hands through it all night. But my cheeks are flushed, my lips look fuller, and there’s something brighter in my eyes, alive. I angle the phone slightly and take the picture before I can chicken out.

Dani immediately grabs the phone to inspect it. “Oh, bitch. You look GOOD.”

I pull a face as I study the result. “I absolutely do not.”

“You absolutely do. You should send it,” she insists.

I don’t know whether it’s the wine or Dani’s attitude rubbing off on me, but before I can second-guess myself, I hit send. I immediately regret it. “Oh my God,” I groan, dropping backward against the couch cushions. “Why did I do that?”

Dani is practically vibrating beside me, waiting for the reply. It comes fast.