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Winter: 7 texts seriously? Can you please stop blowing up my phone? I’m busy ignoring you.
Haze: And live without your heartwarming messages. How will I ever survive
Winter: I’ll block your number, I swear.
Haze: You’d miss me too much.
Winter: What do you want? Don’t you have STDs to catch?
Haze: That stung.
Winter: STDs tend to do that.
Haze: Look at you trying to convince yourself that you’d never sleep with me ;)
Winter: Don’t you have better things to do?
Haze: Better than annoying my favorite Canadian. Nah.
Winter: Lucky me.
Haze: Speaking of. I have a question for you.
Winter: Consider me afraid.
Haze: Are you a virgin.
Winter: No, I’m a Scorpio.
Haze: Virgin. Not Virgo.
Winter: What about you? I bet you’re a Sagittarius.
Haze: God, you’re annoying.
Winter: That’s something a Sagittarius would say.
Haze: How long can you dodge questions like that
Winter: I can go all day. My turn to ask questions. What do you have against question marks?
Haze: Nothing, I’m just lazy
Winter: Right but you’re not too lazy to text me seven times.
He stops replying. I put the phone down, a feeling of guilt burdening me. What’s happening to me? I feel bad for texting him. But mostly, I feel bad for kind of liking it. I shake my head as if it’ll somehow restore much-needed order to my obviously disturbed mind. Then, after a good ten minutes, my phone lights up with a reply.
Haze: I’m never too lazy when it comes to you.
He probably says things like that to a thousand different girls, but I’m not completely unaffected by it and I hate it. He can’t expect me to fall for his lines. I won’t.
Acting on impulse, I do something I shouldn’t. But what’s new? I stare at the message I just sent and regret it immediately. This probably seems like an invite into my life.
Maybe it is.
Winter: All talk. No action.
I stare at the conversation intently, afraid of his answer. To say I don’t hold my breath when he replies would be a lie.
