Page 90 of When We Were Us

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I painstakingly type out three or four things—I really need to upgrade this phone because a single text is going to take forever at this rate. But I erase each of them before deciding on what I want to send.

Hank

You bet. How are you feeling?

Wrennie Girl

Better, thanks.

Hank

Glad to hear it. Finn hanging out today?

Wrennie Girl

For a bit. She has a shift this afternoon.

I tug on the ends of my hair, chew the inside of my cheek, and then scrub a hand over my mouth, scratching at the stubble on my chin.

Fuck it.

I type out my reply.

Hank

Do you need anything? Maybe some soup or something later?

Wrennie Girl

I didn’t scare you away with all the puking?

Hank: Nah.

Wrennie Girl

Then, yes. I’d like that.

Hank

Then it’s a date.

Ah, Jesus.

Fuck.

My thumb bounces around the buttons, frantically wishing I had an unsend button.

Stupid, old-ass flip phone.

Oh, God.

I quickly type out a reply.

Hank

Fuck. I didn’t mean a date, date.

I’ll see you later.

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