Coop: Guess there will be lots of trips to the bathroom. Hold my hand?
Me: You wish.
Coop: Actually I’d prefer you held my cock, but I suppose I can settle.
Me: You’re disgusting.
Coop: And you’re stalling. Bring me my beer, wench woman.
Me: Fuck you.
Coop: Well, I really didn’t want any of them to win that bet, but okay. Be here in twenty mins.
Me: You’re serious?
Coop: As a heart attack.
Me: About which part? The beer or the fucking?
Coop: Both.
I sag back against the couch and groan. What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me that I’m actually entertaining this idea?
Me: I’m not coming over, and I’m not ever going to sleep with you.
Coop: Now who said anything about sleeping?
Me: I’m thinking you should take a leaf out of Zed’s book and become real familiar with your hand. I’ll see you in the morning.
My phone buzzes again. I look at my messages but it’s coming up with an “image not received” message. A second later there’s another text from Coop
Coop: Well, where’s my picture?
Me: What are you talking about?
Coop: I just sent you mine; now send me yours.
Me: You sent me what? I can’t see pictures on my phone.
Coop: WTF? You didn’t get a new phone when I told you to?
Me: Nope. I told you I don’t like being told what to do.
Coop: I’m beginning to see that, so I’ll say this nicely. Please send me a picture of your tits.
Me: OMG, you’re a fucking pervert.
Coop: Yes, yes I am. Now … tits, please.
I shake my head and throw my phone down on the coffee table, preparing to sleep, but it won’t stop beeping. I open my messages one last time and see his replies that have all gone unanswered.
Coop:Soooo … can I get my tits now please?
Coop:Ali?
Coop:Allllllli?
Coop:Come on, Ali-Cat.