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Biting my lip, I hit send.
But then I panic. It’s like, 12:01. Maybe he’s sleeping.
So then I send:
Are you sleeping?
Which freaks me out more because then I start to wonder if he knows who I am even. So I decide to say,
This is Echo.
After that I just clench my eyes shut and drop my phone on my belly.
Great. Just great, Echo.
Why are you such a dork?
Of course he knows who I am. He bought me this phone. He put his own number into my phone.Of course, he’d put mine on his too. Under Servant Girl, I bet.
A few seconds later, as I’m writhing in my embarrassment, my belly buzzes.
Or the phone on my belly does.
I scramble to pick it up and with a slamming heart, I open his reply.
Bossman
I know.
And yes.
I don’t know what it means or proves that I immediately understand whathemeans. Heknowsthat I’m Echo andyes, he’s sleeping.
I can even hear him say that.
In his dry sarcastic tone wrapped up in his rough, deep timbre as he liesawakein his bed or wherever he is.
Frowning, I type:
Servant Girl
Ha. Very funny.
His reply comes instantly:
Bossman
What do you want?
This, I can hear too.
Rude and mean.
I breathe out sharply before typing,
Servant Girl
There’s a thing called politeness.
