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My desktop computer signals the arrival of the email I’ve been waiting for, so I turn back to my screen.
I’m reading through the email when my phone buzzes with Savannah’s reply.
My hands go to my keyboard to type up the reply, but then I remember the text and glance down.
Big Guy: Did you have a nice day, Shorty?
Not Savannah.
My cheeks are hot.
Why are my cheeks hot?
Me: Pretty normal. How about you?
Send.
Big Guy: Mine was pretty normal, too. But I couldn’t stop thinking about this knockout I met at the airport this week.
Knockout?
Swoon.
Me: Oh yeah? I bet she was super funny and brilliant.
Send.
I groan.
Why am I so weird?
Big Guy: You think I would settle for anything less?
Gah, he’s so perfect.
Me: Of course not. I’ve seen your face.
Send.
I groan again.
I’ve seen your face?
Me: I don’t mean that in a serial killer way.
Send.
Me: I meant that I’ve seen how handsome your face is.
Send.
Me: And that obviously you wouldn’t have to settle since you look the way you do.
Send.
Me: Reimplementing the blocking request. See text from two days ago.
Send.
