Matthew: Why do you think I swear so much?
Me: Um….????
Matthew: So people leave me alone. Are YOU going to bother someone telling you to fuck off?
Me: Hmmm. Good point.
Me: My tactic is to just put my Beats on and pretend I’m listening to music…
Matthew: LOL. Good strategy.
Matthew: Unless it’s me, of course. Then you just whip out your karate.
Me: Please don’t bring that up – I’m still so embarrassed.
Matthew: Sorry, that lives in my memory. Forever.
Me: Great. Just great…
Matthew: I’ll admit – that was not the greatest first impression but at least it was a memorable one.
Me: Feel free to blame Molly for not mentioning you were her brother. I thought you were some pervert raper.
Matthew: Well most people think Molly and I look pretty similar, so there is THAT…
Me: But still. It was a very heated moment and you so could have been a raper.
Me: Plus, then you started eating my food. Not cool.
Matthew: I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a growing boy. I get hungry.
Matthew: And I wasn’t eating your food until you threw it down on the couch. I considered that an open invitation.
Matthew: And I never turn down free food.
Me: I thought you weren’t supposed to be sending me any more messages
There is a long lapse in between responses from Matthew, and then:
Matthew: Is that what you want?
CHAPTER 9
MATTHEW
“I speak Italian. Just kidding, I speak Italian menus… because I like the food.”
- Matthew
I sit and wait for my phone to chime again, and after a tense fifteen minutes of no reply from Cecelia, I’m convinced I fucked the whole thing up. I mean, fifteen minutes is way longer than I would have liked – what could she possibly be doing?
Jumping jacks? Shampooing her hair?
The odd thing is… the entire time I’m waiting for my inbox to chime, my heart is racing. Not like me at all. Anxiously waiting is amateur boy shit – not grown men with lucrative careers.
In the bathroom next to our room, the hotel shower shut off – this is a good indication I’ll only have a few minutes before Weston busts out, probably wrapped in a towel, and gets all up in my business.
Fortunately, my phone finally lights up.
Cecelia: I’m not sure.
Me: What aren’t you sure about?
Cecelia: What all this means…?
Cecelia: Why the sudden interest with you. I don’t understand.
That makes two of us, I want to say – but don’t.
Me: It can’t hurt to have more friends, right?
Cecelia: LOL. Yeah, I guess.
Cecelia: I guess maybe we can be Pen Pals.
Cecelia: I’ll pretend you’re a little boy from Italy.
Me: Mi piace la pasta
Cecelia: WHAT. THE. HELL. WAS. THAT.
Me: LOL. It means ‘I like pasta.’ It’s Italian.
Cecelia: OMG. That did NOT just happen…
Cecelia: Did you Google that??? (still dying here)
Me: LOL. No. Yes. Maybe.
Me: Would you believe I did a semester abroad?
Cecelia: Um…. No. Yes. MAYBE???
Me: I guess you’ll have to wonder then.
Me: Cosa stai indossando?
Cecelia: You know, I can look that up….
A few seconds later, she figures out the translation: ‘What are you wearing?’
Cecelia: You are the biggest moron!
Me: LOL. You’re wearing sweat pants aren’t you?
Cecelia: OMG. NO!!!!! K. Maybe.
Cecelia: Why Italian?
Me: Mostly because German isn’t as sexy
Cecelia: You are so vain.
Me: Hey, wasn’t ^^^ that a song in the 70’s?
Cecelia: Yes! Here, let me sing it to you (singing) “You’re. So. Vainnnnn, you probably think this song is about youuuu!!!!!
Me: Yup, that would be the song.
Cecelia: So, are you seriously holed up in a room with Weston?
Me: Yes. He’s in the shower, and once he comes out of the bathroom all my fun will be over.
I grab my kindle off the bed, and power it on. Once Weston is in the room, I’ll have no privacy and will have to stop messaging Cecelia.
Cecelia: LOL
Me: I won’t be laughing in about five minutes so I’ll just enjoy this while I can.
Cecelia: …this? As in… this?
Me: LOL. You’re funny.
Cecelia: I am, actually…! Don’t you think so?
Cecelia
I stare at my phone, not happy that Matthew has suddenly stopped messaging me back. Granted, I know it’s probably because Weston has come out of the bathroom or something, but still. I’m annoyed.
Who just… stops? Talk about random. And Rude.
And so, I generally feel like a horse’s ass for being the last one to send a message, which sits there unreciprocated.
Ugh, I feel like such a loser.
I palm my phone, and click it again to check the time, then set it back on coffee table upside down so I’m not tempted to check it… even though it chimes when I have a new message.
Have you ever done that - kept checking your phone to see if you have a message? Then checking it again… and again, even though you know you didn’t have it on ‘silent.’
Yes. Logically, I know I don’t have a message - but that doesn’t stop me from checking it a thousand times like a deranged teenager whose mere existence is validated by SnapChats and text messages. People “liking” their Facebook statuses, Instagram and Twitter posts.