Duke:You yell a lot—not sure I’d call that aggressive…
Posey:I DO NOT YELL A LOT.
Duke:See? You’re doin’ it now!
Posey:Did you know you even text with a Southern accent? I find that fascinating.
Duke:Do I? I hadn’t noticed. Guess I’m used to it.
Posey:Yeah, you’re texting in an accent. LOL
We message one another until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, until I fall asleep with my phone in my hand atop the blankets, realizing I passed out when the sun blinds me bright and early in the morning.
I don’t mention our conversation on the dating app when we’re in the kitchen eating breakfast.
He doesn’t mention it, either.
7
duke
Ican’t get into this book.
It’s not my usual genre, but from all the books Posey had on the bookshelf in the front room downstairs, it’s the one that sounded most interesting.
An Affair Most Wicked.
Okay.
I can maybe get into this.
Apparently, it’s about some chick from America who goes to London in hopes of finding a husband, but the dude she meets there is a total dick.
I’m hoping one of his family members—preferably his hateful stepsister—tries to murder her in the process, but I can’t get past the first chapter to find out.
The hammock sways when I shift my weight. The screwed-in hooks didn’t work in the trees, so I moved it to the porch, and briefly—ever so briefly—I wonder what Posey will say when she sees the thing attached to the porch and not the tree.
Too late now.
Couldn’t get the damn screws to stay screwed. They kept fallin’ out. The tree trunk must have been too alive or something.
I adjust the brim of my baseball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes, wondering where she’s gone off to. Thinking about the dating app we were chatting on, smiling at her goofy responses.
Posey on a dating app.
Who would have thunk it.
The last person I thought I’d see when I made an account and started swiping last night. She was far more interesting than the four other women I began conversations with, three of them initiating the first contact:
Hi.
Hey.
How’s it going?
Seriously, we’re doing one-worded greetings now to get conversations started? Yeah—okay. How about no, thanks.
And they say men are bad…