Page 10 of Finding Jack
She tsked. “Ah, baby girl. I didn’t say anything like that. That must be your guilty conscience talking. And if you feel guilty it must be because there’s a little spark there that Paul wouldn’t like.”
“You’re ridiculous. I don’t feel guilty even a tiny bit. Jack and I were forced into this conversation because you put us both in an awkward position.”
“So, you’re done talking to him?”
I set the phone on the coffee table and picked up the magazine again. “I think so. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
I expected an argument so when she stayed quiet, I glanced up from an article debating who wore a yellow latex dress better. Since the answer was neither, I gave Ranée my full attention again. She opened and closed her mouth twice without saying anything. “What? Spit it out.”
“It’s just…I don’t think Jack usually bothers staying in touch with someone after he does a Photoshop request. I mean, if you look at his Instagram, he doesn’t really interact beyond posting the pictures even though his followers are constantly trying to get his attention on there and Twitter.”
“So?”
“So you obviously have his attention.”
“I don’t want it.”
“But why not? He’s hot, and Sean vouches for him.”
“Because I have a boyfriend!”
She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying, he’s provoked more emotion from you in a single day than Paul has the whole time you’ve dated him.”
“That’s a point for Paul.”
“Fine,” she said, flouncing toward her bedroom. “I won’t try to save you from a boring relationship anymore…today.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, but as soon as she closed her door, I opened Jack’s message again.
EMILY: Fine. Not girly. You’re practically an Old Spice commercial. You should be so proud.
I couldn’t really explain why I’d responded. It made much more sense to let the conversation die like I’d told Ranée I would. Maybe it just seemed like a shame to let all the effort that he put into the Photoshop masterpiece go to waste.
But I definitely didn’t want him to think I wanted to keep the conversation going just because, so I sent a quick follow up message.
EMILY: Also, does acknowledging your non-girliness guarantee me that I’m not going to get tagged in any more posts?
JACK: No. Just telling me that you didn’t like it was enough to do the trick. Again, sorry.
I mean…it was a pretty decent thing to say, especially since it hadn’t even been his idea. My fingers almost tapped out another reply, but I caught myself. I set it down instead and went back to celebrity gossip.
But my phone buzzed again, and I snatched it up.
JACK: Also, girl isn’t an insult, and I wasn’t offended when you said that. Girls are cool. I just want you to know that I know that.
EMILY: Appreciate your wokeness, but if we’re going to be truly politically correct, I don’t think we say “girls.” I think we’re supposed to say “women.”
JACK: Point taken, but I actually meant girls. As in small humans. Which sounds weird. Some of the toughest, coolest people I know are girls.
I believed him. It surprised me, but I did. So I said so.
EMILY: I get it. My nieces are tiny and fierce and amazing. Anyway, we’re good. Best wishes, etc.
At least now the conversation had closure, no weird, half-finished thoughts on either side.
And now that the situation was settled, I sent Paul a text letting him know that the Photoshopping would stop. His reply was terse. “Good.”
I couldn’t explain why that bothered me, but it did. I mean, I’d be annoyed if some woman started Photoshopping him and tagging him on social media. Probably. Maybe? I might just think it was funny. But I could definitely understand why it had bugged him. But saying “Good,” like I was a child who had obeyed, or his secretary at work who’d done as ordered…
