Page 8 of Up All Night
Fucking. Score.
“Me too. I am taking tomorrow off from work.”Hint, hint, Mr. Handsome.
No response.
No fucking response!
Today, I imagine him sitting in his room (whatever it looked like,) staring at my message and trying to figure out what I was going for. Now I know that English was his fourth, fifth language, and the way I talked to him may have been too much for him to wrap his head around. Basically, I had broken the fucker.
“Do you want to meet up for coffee or something?”
There.
I had done it.
I had ditched the feminine wiles and pumped that dude full of aggressive American woman. Asked him out. Made my intentions clear. Dude, I only had a week and a half before my period was due, and two days after that I was heading back to America. I had no time to waste!
Naturally, Hadrian didn’t get back to me right away. Because that would have been helpful, yeah?
It’s usual for the person who asked the other out to feel that moment of crippling anxiety. In real life, you get your answer right away. Either they say yes or no, or they run away – giving you their answer, I guess. Online, though? It’s so easy to get ghosted. There’s nobody forcing you to reply to someone asking you out. Hell, I had effectively ghosted those other two guys, right? They were gross and totally deserved it, but I still left them hanging high and dry!
It was possible he hadn’t seen my message yet. Maybe he tried to interpret it. Maybe he tried to figure out how to tell me no. (Then why were you talking to me, bro?)
“Ok ye s lets met.”
The man was not great with English, but I didn’t give a fuck. I had a date. That thumping bed next door could kiss my fucking ass.
