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TomCat: WTF? Who?
I stood and paced, waiting for a reply.
Rosie: Brayden.
Rosie: if you can keep that bit of news on the downlow, I’d appreciated it. He was pretty pissed off and said stuff
TomCat: What did he say?
TomCat: Are you okay?
TomCat: I’ll come over right now if you need another person there
There was a long pause.
TomCat: you know you can count on me for anything. We’re neighbours and we stick by each other.
TomCat: No matter what.
TomCat: I even have your pruning shears so if you promise not to try to draw blood with them, I’ll give them back
Why did that feel inadequate? We had to talk about our past and the kiss soon. But not in the middle of Angelo’s illness.
Rosie: I’m not explaining myself well. Sorry, have got to go. Mum’s here and has an update on Dad.
Rosie: Brayden was just pissed off he was caught and mouthed off.
TomCat: Take care. Hope news on yr dad is good
Rosie’s profile flipped to offline.
I flipped open my textbook but I couldn’t keep still. I managed to read for ten minutes max, and then check for messages and pace the floor, before attempting to read again. After an hour of this, a message pinged on the computer and I threw my textbook aside.
Rosie: About the mwoing Are you okay with that?
* * *
Rosie
“Get it together, woman,” I muttered. “Write the message, do the thing.”
I am a twenty-six-year-old, university-educated woman who is literally shaking at the idea of sending a man a DM.
That’s all Tom is: a man. My neighbour. Someone I kissed a day ago.
No biggie.
I groaned and then gripped my phone. It was late, close to midnight, and I was beat. Amanda was bringing her car around to the front of the hospital to drive us home. Taking a deep breath, I opened the instant messenger window and typed with my eyes closed, and hit send.
I opened my eyes and read the message.
Me: About the mwoing Are you okay with that?
I exhaled sharply. Not that educated, apparently, with that spelling. New rule: always proofread before sending.
I’ll give him an out. He can say no with dignity, like “actually I’m quite busy with the sheep” or “I need to keep re-fencing our top paddock because of the bloody wombats from the national park”.
I took another deep breath. Seeing him in his work clothes, sweaty, dirty. All grown up, with lean muscle across broad shoulders, he made the fencing task look almost effortless.
