Page 96 of Unlocked Dive
Me: I’m not sure I like this new friendship between you two.
Echo: I didn’t know you were into karaoke. ;P
Me: It was Halloween. In Amsterdam. There might have also been tequila.
Echo: And a bathroom blowie, apparently. With a tongue ring.
Me: Have you ever had an appropriate relationship with an authority figure in your life?
Echo: What are you wearing?
Me: Sweats and a band tee. And you’re proving my point.
Echo: You don’t have any authority over me anymore. Tell me about the sweatpants. Are they gray?
Me: ;)
Echo: Send me a pic.
Me: I’m not taking a selfie of my dick outline in the grocery store.
Echo: Mendoza’s or Big Harvest?
Me: Mendoza’s.
Echo: Ask Julie to do it. Tell her it’s for me, and she’ll get the framing just right.
Me: Absolutely not.
Echo: Spoilsport.
Me: Brat.
Echo: You love it.
“It.”
My heart trips over the word. I imagine him hesitating, thumbs suspended over his phone as he chooses the two little letters. For all his brash, familiar flirtation, he hasn’t said he loves me since the night he left.
I haven’t said it either.
I don’t want to assume or pressure him into a declaration he might regret. Ironic, considering how he baited me with his first confession.
Underneath the caution, I’m also terrified it might not still be true. That my altruistic determination to give him this time to move on will actually work, and he’ll choose someone else to claim the chaos of his affection.
Maybe he never hesitated. Maybe he’ll start to slip away, and these texts will become perfunctory before fading into a distant memory I’ll cherish alone.
Or maybe it’s my turn to say it first.
Echo: I’ve started taking straps classes.
Me: Straps are fun. Great cross-training for flares and roll ups, too. It never hurts to widen your skill base.
Echo: And the coach is hot.
Me: You do know I recruited Gale Shepard?
Echo: I don’t think he likes me much, though. Probably because I hit on him at a party during auditions last year.
