Page 52 of Liquids

Big storm today, the rig’s shut down and I’m bored.

So bored you’re outside?

Heading back inside. Thought you’d want to see it.

Why are you texting me? Where are you?

Alaska.

Crap. Really?

Is it cold?

Ball freezing, babe. What are you doing?

I glance down at the glass of vodka in my hand and the cup noodles on the coffee table that were my dinner, and my cheeks burn. I stare at the game on the TV.

It’s okay if you’re with another guy. I get that you ended things.

Ended things? I don’t like the thrill I get from him calling it a thing. We had six nights. I’d convinced myself he saw me as a place to lie low and a convenient fuck.

As long as you’re not with that asshole Dave.

No one’s here but me.

My phone buzzes with a video call, and so I press answer and his shaggy hair and broad shoulders appear. My mouth waters. There’s a bunk room behind him.

“Hey, babe, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

I laugh. “Sweet talker. What are you calling me for?”

How easy is this to slip into? Even after such a small amount of time?

“What d’ya think of the moving pictures I sent you?”

“Amazing. I’m curious as to how they did it.”

He smirks at me.

“What?” I say.

“Thought you’d like it, that’s all.”

“What else have you been discovering on YouTube?”

He laughs. “A girl I know is an artist, so I’ve been doing a deep dive on artist’s stuff.”

“By no stretch of the imagination am I an artist.”

“Babe.”

Stop being nice to me, I want to tell him, but I can’t do that because I’ve actually missed it.

“How come you’re in on a Saturday night?” he says. “Why aren’t you at Callahan’s?”

“First night off in a few weeks. I took another job at the hospital.”

“I thought they fired you.”