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Just the thought of it makes me grimace. I can’t believe I’m going to have to work with him.
“The hot guy?” Alex asks in surprise, a smile beginning to grow on her face.
“Yep. He’s the only guy who talked to me,” I explain with a small shrug.
“Charlie and I saw you guys talking. He was undeniably fuckable,” she says, referring to a childhood friend of hers, who is usually with us when we go out.
“He’s a heartthrob, for sure. But he seemed like a total jerk. I didn’t even realize he worked with my dad until I was having lunch with him the other day, and Tyler appeared in my dad’s office. You should have seen the way he cornered me in the elevator,” I rant, growing frustrated the more I talk about it.
“A hot, fuckable jerk. He’s probably raging skilled in the sack,” she says, the comment causing my face to heat up some.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Alex as she says, “Oh, come on, Maria. Why didn’t you hook up with him? He would’ve shown you a good time.”
I don’t know what to say, and my face turns crimson. It’s not that I can’t tell when a man is conventionally attractive, but . . .
I’ve never had sex with a man before.
While I’ve kissed a few guys, and even gotten to second base, I’ve never worked up the courage to go any farther than that. But I don’t want to tell Alex that at twenty-three, I’m still a virgin. She’ll probably think I’m pathetic.
Finally, I cringe. “He was in my face too much. Believe it or not, jerks aren’t my type, regardless of how steamy they are.”
“Well either way, you’re going to have to discuss what he’ll be doing in the classroom,” Alex begins, a mischievous smirk appearing on her face. “So, why don’t you text him?”
I had thought about how I would have to give him the rundown of what my plans are but was completely dreading it.
Alex can see the horror painting my features as she says, “Come on. Maybe he isn’t as much of a jerk as you think. Give him a chance. Do you have his number?”
I sigh as I tell her, “Yeah, my dad sent it to me.”
My dad is completely well-intentioned in his efforts, but it doesn’t change the fact that his help has put me in this dreadful situation.
“So, just text him. You’re going to have to do it at some point,” she tells me, a knowing look in her eyes.
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” As I pick up my phone, my mind runs a million miles a second trying to figure out how to get out of this.
But I know it’s futile.
Pulling up my text messages, I click on the number my dad sent me, opening up a blank text exchange. Reluctantly, I type a simple,Hello. It’s Maria.
I stare at my phone for a moment, anxious about having to send this. I just know that me texting him like this will cause a stupid little smirk to appear on his face.
“Did you do it?” Alex asks, leaning over my desk to try and take a peek at my phone.
“No, not,” I start, but I don’t finish because, at lightning speed, Alex snatches my phone straight out of my hand.
“Hey!” I call out, trying to grab it.
She hands it back, letting a maniacal laugh leave her mouth as she does. And I know exactly what it means before I even look at my screen. It’s only confirmed when I see the little blue bubble with my message on the screen, the word “delivered” in small gray letters right under it.
I release a groan of dissatisfaction.
“You can thank me later,” Alex tells me confidently, as she leans back in her swivel chair, a granola bar clutched in hand.
My eyes dart back to my phone screen, staring at the single message on it. I’m confident that I won’t be thanking Alex anytime soon, but I don’t let her know that. Letting out a loud huff, I resign myself to just seeing how this goes. In the end, Alex is right. I do need to meet up with Tyler to discuss what his role will be while volunteering in my classroom.
The rest of the day goes by without too much excitement. However, I do find my mind occasionally drifting to the text message I sent, wondering if Tyler has replied to it. A few times, I even peek at my phone, finding that I have no new messages.
By the time I’m walking out to my car, I’ve let my mind come up with other possibilities for the late reply. Maybe he’s dodging me to get out of volunteering. Or maybe he doesn’t even remember that I’m Maria.
