Page 16 of In Your Dreams

PARKER: Good, I’m glad. I know I said I wouldn’t text much so I’ll keep this short. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Still ok with me picking you up a little earlier than I originally said?

ME: Yep, that works for me.

PARKER: Great. Can’t wait to see you.

I can’t contain the smile that text causes and Emma is eyeing me like a hawk. There’s no use trying to deny it.

“Please don’t let me drunk text him later,” I say.

“I cannot confirm or deny if I will let you do that,” she says, laughing.

Damn her. She’s not lying either. She’s just as likely to encourage that sort of behavior as she is to steal my phone for the rest of the night. You never really know which Emma is coming out to play until she’s already dancing on top of the kitchen table.

I sit my phone back down and turn back toward her. The conversation moves from Parker to the last guy she tried dating to how she’s sad Wade doesn’t have someone and back to Parker again. Then we talk about Theo and Ellie and how we hope they get married. I make sure to slide in the occasional Wayne-hating comment to which Emma cheers. By the time I think to check the time, a couple hours have gone by and the second bottle of wine has been opened.

“I’m going to text him,” I say pulling my phone close to my face. By this time, we’re lying down in my bed, propped up on our elbows and I’m more than a little tipsy.

“Do it,” Emma says. She spoons out a heap of Nutella from the jar and shoves it in her mouth.

ME: Hey

Shit that wasn’t original.

PARKER: Hey mama

ME: I like it when you call me that

PARKER: Yeah?

ME: Yeah. It gives me tingles

PARKER: Tingles?

ME: Yeah, tingles in places

PARKER: What places?

My cheeks turn hot thinking about telling him exactly where he makes me tingly but I can’t bring myself to do it.

ME: I can’t tell you

PARKER: Why not?

ME: It’s not ladylike

PARKER: Maybe I don’t want you to be ladylike

“What are you saying?” Emma asks, staring at me intently.

“I’m being bad,” I say, hiccuping.

“Good,” she says. “You should be bad. You should be a very bad girl. Go for naughty.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, closing one eye as I try to read my phone screen. Honestly, I think it’s helping a little.

“Fuck yes. When’s the last time you were?” She asks.

I try to think back and find myself coming up empty. Oh my god, was I never bad? Was I seriously never naughty?

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