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Me:Depends on what you have planned.
Luke:I’m easy.
I pull my eyes back to the road and tap my fingers on the steering wheel. Because that phrase means more than he thinks, but I am not going there with him. I’ve made that mistake before and I’m never doing that again.
Luke:How about I bring drinks and dinner to your place. Then we can watch the next movie in theLethal Weaponseries. Black holes are cool, but guns are cooler.
Me:Your taste in movies is ridiculous. And guns are criminal.
I will never admit I kind of like the damn movies. I’ll take that confession to the grave. Luke will never know the truth. He keeps snoozing through them anyway. And yet, both times, I found myself intrigued by the characters and the silly banter. One time, I even chuckled. I’d bitten my cheek afterward, peering down at Luke, who was snuggled against my thighs, worried I’d been caught. But he’d slept through my little slip up.
Luke:Come on, Doc. Don’t make me beg.
Me:Fine.
Luke:Fuck yeah! It’ll be fun. Trust me. I’m the most fun you’ll ever have.
I quickly put my phone down and grab my coffee mug again. Fun is one word for it. More like torture.
Because what if I actually do have fun and then I start to really like him?
The horror.
When I’m finally at work, my phone pings again, and I quickly grasp for it before forcing myself to move more purposefully. I am thirty-five years old. There is no reason to get excited over an excessively attached man. I do not trust him. And more importantly, I do not trust myself.
I glance down at my phone and sigh heavily. I’d rather it was Luke. But no, this is the insufferable group chat my sisters insist I stay a part of.
Jane:What are you guys doing this weekend?
Me:I would like to request to be removed from this chat.
I, of course, go ignored.
Kate:Stalking Elliot and his hottie lover, duh.
Eliza:A stakeout! I’ll bring the chips and dip. And the chocolate.
Me:Go away.
Jane:Ooh. I’ll bring the drinks.
Kate:I have the binoculars.
Me:Don’t you dare. There is nothing to see here.
Eliza:Don’t be such a grump.
I click my phone off and set it on my desk. If I was to find a minivan full of my sisters outside of my house, I would not be surprised. They’ve done this before. Once, I hate to admit, I had been in there with them, sneaking around and spying.
They were terrible at it.
Cops were called and we were issued a citation.
I’ll never live down the embarrassment.
They bring it up on every holiday and cackle relentlessly.
The next hour passes, and I see a few patients. I absolutely refuse to look at my phone to see if he’s texted. I will not check it until tonight when I am done with work. Then, and only if he’s texted, will I respond. I am not an overeager teen with a crush.
