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Where are you?
Taziki’s, waiting to p/u
takeout and head to my dad’s.
Everything good on the drive?
Ride. Yep. Smooth like buttah
Good. Thinking about you.
Thinking about you too
I’ll call tonight if you want
That would be great. Is there a time
when it would be bad to text you?
I don’t know the protocols for all this.
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All what?
Petra stared at the screen. She could hardly write that she didn’t know about outlaw dealings and whether she could proceed like everything was normal while he was escorting a mysterious truck across the country.
And how bizarre was it to be dating an outlaw—or that the brash but sweet man she was dating, whose face and neck flushed before he told her a core truth about himself or his feelings, whose most tightly kept secret was that he liked to dance, was an outlaw?
Finally, she decided to keep it simple.
The run stuff. Are there protocols?
For you, I don’t think so. Prolly better to let me
call you, but text when you want. If I can’t answer
right away I wont. That work?
That works.
Good. Gotta go. Those assholes are ordering without me
Jerks lol. Get lunch. Stay safe.
She’d keyed a red heart to end the message, but deleted that before she sent it. Jake didn’t seem to do emojis—at all—and a heart was maybe jumping the gun, at least while he was hundreds of miles away and she couldn’t manage his reaction if he read more into it than she intended.
But she was feeling that red heart. Just crush level at this point, a little infatuation. She meant to tread carefully with this new thing, with this man who clearly had some demons and had already hurt her once. But he was a sunny corner in an otherwise uncomfortably stormy time, and she was feeling that red heart.
“Petra!” the woman behind the counter called, and she stepped up to collect her lunch order.
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~oOo~
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Petra came into thekitchen of her father’s house. “Hey, Dad! Taziki’s, as promised!”
