Page 26 of Off Script
“That’s not uncommon in LA. Next.”
“He’s thirty.” I wrack my brain trying to remember any other tidbits of information he had ever let slip about himself. “He grew up in Austin and moved out here after he graduated high school. Didn't go to college. Has a younger brother.”
“Okay,” Harper murmurs, typing as I talk. “What else?”
“He played football in high school. I doubt that’s important though given that was over a decade ago.”
“You never know. I’ll include it.”
“One time he said something about how he had so many people around him all the time telling him what to do,” I add. The specifics of his comment elude me, but I remember being confused by it and not understanding what he meant.
Harper’s head pops up from her phone. “You’re sure he’s not, like, in jail, right? That would explain why he can’t meet you and why people are always telling him what to do.” She blinks, looking slightly horrified and gently sets her hand on my knee. “When he calls you,there’s not an automated voice that asks if you’ll accept a collect call, right?”
I can’t help but laugh. “No, Harp.”
“Whew, good. Then I bet he’s in a relationship or he’s catfishing you.” Harper twists her head to the side before slowly shaking it. “But it also feels like it might be something else entirely. He comes across as being so genuine in all these texts. He sounds like he’s into you.”
Hope swells within me.
“But he could be into youandbe in a relationship with someone else. Both could be true, unfortunately. They aren’t mutually exclusive.”
My little bubble of hope bursts.
“Listen, here’s what I think you should do. Continue communicating. Pry for more details, and we’ll keep adding them to the list. Hopefully, he’ll let his guard down and tell you more things about himself.”
I nod. It feels good to have some semblance of a plan. Especially one that includes me talking to Ben. Eagerly, I tug the socks off my hands, so that I can use my phone again.
Harper holds up a hand in warning. “But do not allow yourself to get any more invested. Do you think you can do that? Keep some walls up?”
“I can try.”
But I’m not sure it will work. No matter how fast I lay down bricks to shore of up my emotional walls, Ben’s words have a way of seeping through my cracks and crevices, weakening my resolve.
My phone chimes with a new text message.
BEN
I miss you.
“Just call him. But remember what we talked about,” Harper mutters as she aims a pointed stare in my direction. “I don’t want you to get your heart broken when we figure out Brent-Ben-whatever-his-name-is is really a 55-year-old mechanic who’s married with four kids and living in Idaho.”
I nod resolutely. "Got it."
After a minute of hesitation, I tap on the call button and wait as the phone rings several times before rolling to voicemail.What the heck?He just texted me. He obviously has his phone on him, so why doesn’t he pick up my call?
Huffing, I turn on the TV and find a show on Netflix to watch. Harper pops some microwave popcorn and joins me on the couch. A few minutes later, my phone chimes from another incoming text and then another follows in quick succession. Harper pauses the television, as I lunge for my phone.
BEN
I’m at a business dinner and can’t talk. Call you when I finish?
Thanks for finally responding. It made my night. Seriously.
I read them to myself and breathe a sigh of relief. As much as my feelings have flip-flopped during the day, I know that there’s something simmering between us. I’m not imagining it.
“Well, spit it out! What did he say?” Harper probes excitedly, clearly wrapped up in our drama.
I read his texts aloud to her and she arches her eyebrow in surprise. “What kind of bartender has business dinners?”
