25
Twirling my phone in my hands, I sit in my house and try to remember the last time I texted a woman.Nothing comes to mind.Apart from texts to Becka, my aunt, or Jolie—back before we kissed—I don’t think there’s a single time I’ve texted a woman.I never even got the numbers of any of my hookups; there was no point.
I feel like a fifteen-year-old boy all over again, but I have a chance to do things differently this time.I’m not losing this opportunity—one I never thought I’d have in a million years.
I stop fidgeting with my phone, open up my texts to Jolie, and before I can change my mind, I send her a message.
Will you go out on a date with me?
As soon as I hit send, I reread the message half a dozen times, feeling like an idiot because there has to be a better way I could’ve asked her out.Should I have flirted with her first to see if she’s even maybe a little lukewarm to the idea?I haven’t heard from her since she left my house, so she’s probably not interested, but now she’s going to know I’m interested.
That worry seems dumb the more I think about it, seeing as how she figured out I’ve been in love with her for over eleven years.Of course I’m fucking interested.
I rub my hand down my face and then my chest where my heart aches.I can’t lose her over this.My phone beeps, and I glance down to see her reply.
Yes.
And then another.Omg, that was lame.
Followed by another, until she’s blowing up my phone, one line at a time, and I’m smiling so wide, my cheeks start to hurt.
I should’ve said something like I’d love to, right?
Which I would.
Which obviously you know because I said yes.
I’m going to stop now.
I know if I don’t message her back, she’s going to likely start pacing her living room—if she’s not already—and second-guessing herself.But I’d rather hear her voice, so I call her instead.
“I’m so lame,” she answers, her mortification clear in her voice.I can practically see her covering her face with her hand and her cheeks bright pink.
“Then that makes two of us.”
“How do you figure?Your message was perfectly composed.”
My chest seems to swell with her compliment.“Well, I was sitting here second-guessing it until you texted me.”
“You were?”She sounds relieved now, which is what I was going for.
“Yep, so I guess we get to be awkward about this together.”
She laughs, and not for the first time, I wish I could record the sound and have it playing constantly.It’s easily my favorite sound in the world.
“I feel like a teenager all over again.”
I smile—actually I don’t know if I’ve stopped smiling since she started texting me—because it’s a relief to know we’re both feeling nervous and a bit uncomfortable.I wonder if she realizes we’re in the exact same boat here.
“Tris?”she asks, her voice soft and tentative.
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared,” she practically whispers.
Fuck, me too.But Jolie doesn’t need me to be scared with her.She needs me to be strong for her.So I don’t voice my own fears but instead offer reassurance.
“It’s going to be okay.”