Page 38 of Let's Get Textual

“Oh, no. That’s been taken care of already, miss.”

“It has? By whom?”

“Uh, um…it was…” He fishes around in his pockets for something, eventually pulling out a folded slip of paper. “I almost forgot—this is for you.”

I take the note, surprised. “Oh, okay. Well, um…thank you I guess. Let me grab you a tip.”

“That’s been taken care of as well.”

“Seriously? Well, screw it. You’re getting another.” I reach into my wallet and pull out the first bill I find, shoving a ten at him. “Thanks kid.”

I close the door with a quick slam, set my food down, and rip open the note.

Friends don’t let friends binge and starve.

ZACK WITH A H

Zach

Igrab my phone, not hesitating to hit the green button next to Zach’s name.

“I assume you received my gift, Delia.”

“You bought me dinner? What the hell, Zach?”

“A ‘thank you’ is sufficient.”

If only I could reach through this phone right now…“Thank you, but what the hell! How did you even know where I ordered from?” I gasp, realizing something. “Wait…how do you know where I live? Are you a creepy stalker? Was this whole ‘wrong number’ thing a fake-out so you can creep on me?”

“Okay, first, calm down. Second, all I know is that we live close-ish. I don’t know your exact address, but the wing place does.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Third, I called around a few different wing places that were near Lola’s. You had mentioned you were within walking distance of there, so I asked if you had placed an order. Wing Spot was very accommodating, by the way. Said the gesture was…what did they call it? Ah, yes—romantic.”

I’m floored.

“I…I don’t have words, Zach. Thank you. That was…kind. Slightly creepy, but kind.”

“Anything for you, Delia.”

The way he says it…the words slide over me. I don’t think he means them any way other than friendly, but I’d be lying if I said they didn’t make me feel all sorts of tingly.

“How are you liking the show so far?” I ask, changing the subject.

Grabbing my wings, I place them on the living room table and head into the kitchen for a fresh drink and a fork.

“I didn’t anticipate the show being so…weird.”

“We’re only on the second episode.”

“I have no fucking clue what’s going on—that makes it weird.”

My hand grips the fridge tighter at his coarse language. The way he growls, his words, how deep his voice is…it’s hot.

“Can’t argue there.” I put the phone on speaker, not about to try to balance that while opening this bottle of wine. “How’s Marshmallow?”

“He’s fine, sleeping on my pillow right now. What are you doing, Delia? It sounds like someone is ransacking the place.”

“For your information, smartass, I’m getting a drink.”

“You’re so…noisy about it.”

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