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I resume our texting with, My cooch is just fine and freshly detailed and I’m sure Will has a huge eggplant cock and knows how to use it!
I hit Send.
And realize the text window is open to… my mother’s phone number.
Three dots appear.
Oh.
My.
God.
Was something wrong with your gynecological parts, Mallory? Mom asks.
No, but there sure is now.
That text was meant for someone else, Mom. Sorry! I reply.
What is an eggplant… you know? Mom asks. Does Will have some sort of disease that made you sick?
MOM STOP, I reply, hating Perky, whose texts keep coming through, ever more insistent and graphic about all the ways I need to make sure I have sex tonight.
You initiated the conversation, Mom replies. You can tell me anything, you know.
Can I untell you this? I beg.
I’m not sure I understand what THIS is, she answers.
It’s hell, Mom. It’s hell. We’re in hell, this conversation is hell, and my BFF is turning my night into–
Ding dong!
The doorbell.
Will and his purple eggplant cock are here, I text Perky.
Gotta go, I text Mom.
And then I turn off my phone. Power down. Buh-bye.
Will is standing outside my door, head bent as he reads something on his phone.
“Hi!” I say, breathless, thrilled to see him as I shove aside the last minute of painful texting.
Gorgeous but very alarmed eyes meet mine. Phone in hand, he turns it around so I can see.
The words Will and his purple eggplant cock are here are on the screen.
Oh, no. I texted him by accident.
And, of course, his phone is charged to 93 percent. Show off.
“I can explain,” I choke out, beyond horrified.
He clears his throat. “Before I come in, I think we need to work on some expectations management for this evening, Mallory.”
“It’s all Perky’s fault.”
