Page 33 of About that Fling
He clicked the damn icon.
Sorry, this request is no longer valid.
Adam frowned at the monitor. That was weird. He typed her name into the search window and spent a few moments locating the right Jenna McArthur. Her profile was locked down tight. He could see her name and profile picture, but everything was privacy protected to the max.
That figured.
He was ready to shut down again when another notification popped up. He clicked the icon.
Friend request: Jenna McArthur.
What the hell?
He clicked the Confirm button to accept.
Sorry, this request is no longer valid.
Adam shook his head, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. It was possible she’d been hacked, or that someone else was messing around on her computer.
He watched as the friend request icon lit up again and clicked Confirm as fast as he could.
Friendship established, he clicked the icon to send her a direct message.
Adam Thomas: Have you made up your mind yet?
He wasn’t sure if she’d see the message or if it would get routed into an invisible folder. That might be the case if she’d already unfriended him. What were the Facebook rules there?
He waited a few minutes, wondering whether he’d spooked her or if she hadn’t seen the message at all. Maybe this was some sort of weird computer glitch. Maybe it was a trick.
Maybe he’d been watching too much television.
He watched the little pop-up window, feeling disturbingly like a preteen girl passing notes in class and wondering if her crush would reply or not.
The little ellipsis popped up in the dialogue bubble, indicating she was typing a reply. A prickle of anticipation traveled up Adam’s arms, and he sat waiting, watching the screen. And waiting.
And waiting some more.
Christ, was she writing an essay?
Jenna McArthur: Sorry about that. My wineglass fell on the keyboard.
Adam stared at her message, more curious than he’d been a few minutes ago.
Adam Thomas: Repeatedly? On the same key?
Jenna McArthur: Apparently I should switch from stemware to sippy cups.
He smiled, appreciating the wisecrack even if she hadn’t addressed the question. He hesitated a moment, then typed a reply.
Adam Thomas: Did you get the stain out of the dress? Incidentally, this is the same message Bill Clinton would have sent Monica Lewinsky if Facebook had been around in 1996.
He wondered if he’d made her laugh, and hoped he hadn’t crossed some line in the sand. Seconds later, he had her reply.
Jenna McArthur: Unlike Ms. Lewinsky, I had the good sense to visit the dry cleaner on my way home. If our Facebook accounts are ever subpoenaed, this exchange will look highly incriminating.
Adam Thomas: You spies are always thinking ahead. Shall I come over with a blowtorch so we can destroy our laptops together?
Jenna McArthur: Won’t matter. Everything lives in infamy in cyberspace. Maybe you can dismantle the internet. Was internet hacking one of your specialized gigolo skills?
