Page 6 of Fighting

She’s right. Stef is chill and her mom is not. Hurry-ish.

I’m wrappingmyself in my towel when another text comes through. This one in a separate thread.

Satan’s Bikini Waxer:

Come on, Ness. Can we catch up over coffee?

I delete that message. If I don’t acknowledge it, then it didn’t happen, right?

Last night was the first night I’ve spent with another man since I ended things with Caleb. Another man who just so happened to use his fingers, lips, and tongue to make me come multiple times.

No need to ever think about Caleb the selfish limp-dick jerk again.

Except, as I slide my bra on, my nipples graze the cups and tingle into peaks again.

Dammit. Don’t think about last night either.

With a shake of my head, I snag my leggings off the bed. I slip them on and button up the adorable bridesmaid shirt. I’m just sliding my phone into my belt bag when another text pops up, bringing up the three previous texts from my middle sibling.

Tal:

Aba is giving me a hard time about the pronouns. AGAIN.

Can you please talk to him?

Where are you?

You never take this long to reply…

Nessa:

Stef’s wedding weekend. You know this.

For now, ignore Dad.

I’ll see what I can do this week.

Tal:

Best big sister.

Nessa:

Screenshot to torture Shae with later

With a shake of my head, I step out into the hall and let the heavy metallic door thunk shut behind me. My voice is taut as I grumble, “You’re fucking twenty, Tal. Talk to your own parents.” While my hand is still perched on my belt bag zipper, the damn thing vibrates again, jolting me back to the present.

732-848-0609:

We exchanged numbers last night

See you at the altar. I’ll be the best-looking one ;)

I choke on a laugh; he did not think that was cute. Ugh, I gave Mateo my number. Cool. With a sigh, I create a new contact and label it Bad Idea.

Nessa:

Sorry, who is this?

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