Page 34 of About that Fling
He smiled. Hesitated. Put his hands on the keyboard again.
Adam Thomas: Well, if we’re busted anyway, let’s make the most of it. What are you wearing?
The pause dragged out, and Adam kicked himself for going there. The ellipsis popped up to indicate she was typing a response, and Adam braced himself to be shut down.
Jenna McArthur: Very funny. Did you just try to sext me?
Adam Thomas: Is it still called sexting when it’s a Facebook PM?
Jenna McArthur: Does it still count when you use a phone sex pickup line in a typed message?
Adam Thomas: I’ll consult my official guide to social media sex. Please hold.
He was contemplating his next message when a reply popped up.
Jenna McArthur: Since you asked, I’m wearing your ex-wife’s dress. Because clearly, this whole thing wasn’t creepy enough.
Adam winced. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Cracking a joke about his ex-wife’s hygiene would be tasteless, not to mention making Jenna feel defensive of her friend. Playing it cool might be the right approach, but that wasn’t really Adam’s style.
He settled for honesty.
Adam Thomas: Er, sorry about that?
Jenna McArthur: Don’t be. It’s not your fault that I’m sitting here wondering if you’ve ever removed this garment from my best friend. Hey, I was wrong! This CAN get creepier.
She’d ended the message with a smiley, but Adam grimaced anyway. Was she upset? He didn’t think so, but it was so damn hard to read someone’s tone in writing. This is why normal people dated in person. Normal people who weren’t hiding their connection from ex-wives and professional colleagues.
Adam was still considering his reply when her next message popped up.
Jenna McArthur: Problem solved. I took off the dress.
Holy shit.
Well, that was one way to do it. Was she joking or serious? He honestly couldn’t tell.
Adam Thomas: So you’re sitting there in your underwear?
Jenna McArthur: What makes you think I’m wearing underwear?
Okay, she was definitely being flirty. She’d mentioned an empty wineglass, so maybe that was it. Or maybe the elusive aunt had given her another pep talk. Whatever the case, he couldn’t stop his brain from forming a vivid picture. Had she really taken off the dress? Was she sitting in bed like him, stripped down to nothing? Or was she parked at a desk in a home office still fully clad and laughing at her own joke?
Adam Thomas: So now we’re both in our underwear and I’m in bed. Didn’t we pledge not to end up here again?
Jenna McArthur: POIDH.
Adam Thomas: What?
Jenna McArthur: Clearly, you’re not hip to the cybersex lingo, Mr. Thomas.
Adam Thomas: Clearly, hip people don’t use words like hip and lingo.
Jenna McArthur: LOL! POIDH = Pics or It Didn’t Happen.
Adam laughed out loud. She was definitely flirting, no question about it. If he didn’t have written evidence, he might never have believed it. He thought about brushing off the request, but what the hell? Photos of average-looking thirty-something guys in boxer shorts weren’t exactly scandalous viral internet content.
He clicked the key for his camera, then fired off a couple shots. One turned out blurry, but one wasn’t a half-bad image of him sitting shirtless in blue plaid boxers with his reading glasses slightly askew. He hit the key to attach the image, then waited.
Jenna McArthur: HOLY SHIT!!!!!
