Page 33 of Book Boyfriend
Even though I’m only supposed to be coming in three times a week, I’ve been here almost every day. When I’m at home alone I get stir-crazy.
I spent most of the morning going over more details of my date with Fisher with Luna even though I called her immediately when I got in the car last night. He texted me last night after I left to make sure I got home safely, which scored him major bonus points, but I haven’t heard from him yet today. It might be bothering me a little.
I have no idea how this dating shit is supposed to work. Assuming that’s what I’m doing. I was never much of a dater before Ollie and I haven’t had a date in years.
Should I text him? Is that too eager? Do I wait for him to text me? Do I call? Ugh, this sucks. I’d hate to be a teenager in this day and age. Every time my phone has pinged today I couldn’t look at it fast enough. It’s never been him.
I guess I shouldn’t worry why I haven’t heard from him. Fisher mentioned he’d be filming all day today before I left last night. I was glad I drove myself to the airport. If he had had to take me home, it would have been a lot harder to say goodbye.
But still, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all day. If I can’t figure out how to stop thinking about him, I may cave and text him or something stupid. Who am I kidding? I’m writing a book where he’s the star. Not thinking about him is impossible.
As I wash my hands in the bathroom, I decide on “hope you’re having a good day.” That’s safe, right? I tell myself that if I get back to my desk and I haven’t heard from him, I’m totally going to text him that little phrase. It’s harmless enough.
As I walk back to my office, I start doubting whether or not I should. Jeez, this is hard. I read somewhere once that men are natural pursuers. If a guy is not actively trying to get you then he’s just not that into you. The thought has me considering watching the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” when I get home. Maybe it’ll give me some pointers.
Brenna perks up more than usual as I approach. “Hey. You got a call while you were gone.”
“Oh, from who?”
She smiles. “That book guy. I saw him on YouTube! Yowza!”
“What? Fisher? He called the office?”
“Yeah, um, Luna was standing here when it came through. She said she’d talk to him.” She glances down at the switchboard. “She’s still on with him.”
My heartbeat jumps into my neck. It’s beating in time with an alarm clock warning.
As I start stiffly toward Luna’s office I say a silent prayer that she’s making idle chatter. Her office door isn’t completely closed and I stop dead in my tracks when I hear her speaking. I lean my head against the doorframe to listen.
“And I’m glad to hear that. I just need you to know how important she is to me. She’d never tell you herself because she’s too proud, but her ex did a number on her. I’ve never met a more emotional abusive man in my life. People might wonder why she’s so untrusting, but if you’d been made to second-guess every decision you’d ever made for years, you’d know why.”
Oh fuck. I close my eyes. Part of me wants to charge in there and tell her to shut it, but the other part of me is kind of glad she’s explaining me to him. It’s something I’m not good at doing and I feel bad that I’ve been so standoffish with him. I have major trust issues.
“And she has major trust issues. She’s not only my best writer, she’s also my best friend.”
Aww, Luna. I almost sniffle.
“So if you hurt her in any way, shape, or form, I will hunt you down, put you in the trunk of my car, and drive you to an undisclosed location where I’ll pull each and every one of your toenails off with a pair of tweezers. Understand?”
I sprint into her office, waving my hands in the air.
“No worries. Bye.” She places the phone into the receiver. “Oh, hey. That was Patrick. He said he had to go. He only had a few minutes between takes.”
“What the fuck? Why did you say that? He’s probably scared to death now.”
Luna smiles. “No, he’s not. He was laughing.”
“Laughing how?” I ask. “Like tee-hee nervous, I don’t know how to respond to this lunatic laughing?”
“Luna-tic? Hey that’s good. I always thought I was named after the moon. Maybe it was a crazy person?”
I throw myself onto her couch and cover my face with my hands. “He’s probably never going to call again.”
“He was laughing like I was amusing. He told me not to worry. He said he liked you and his toenails too much to risk hurting either one of them. I like him. He’s sharp.”
“He said he liked me?” I ask, gazing at her through the small opening I made with my fingers.
“Duh. You didn’t know that?”
