Can't Text This (Page 6)

Me: I am blushing so hard because now I can’t stop thinking about you kissing me.

Me: No, I didn’t give you my number as a pity thing. If that were the case, I would have given you a fake number.

Python: So why were you surprised I contacted you?

Me: Because I just left you there after…

Python: After what? And, please, be specific.

Me: I am not saying it!

Python: Chicken.

Me: The biggest chicken you’ll ever meet.

Me: Can I be honest with you?

Python: Please do.

Me: You’re not my type, not even close, and let’s face it, I’m not yours either. We simply LOOK like we don’t belong together. I gave you my number because I felt like I HAD to after I let you do what you did. Also, because I liked the way you kissed. A small part of me hoped you’d reach out, but I was mostly hoping we’d both move on and forget it ever happened.

Me: I’m sorry if you hoped for more, but I’m not a random hookup kind of gal.

Python: What makes you assume I’m a random hookup kind of guy? What makes you assume you’re not my type? Because of the way I look? Tsk, tsk. So judgy, Monty.

Python: For the record, I’ve had random hookups in the past and they didn’t work out in my favor (i.e., I got a girl pregnant).

Me: You’re a father?

Python: I am.

Me: I…I did not see that coming.

Python: Is it a bad thing?

Me: No, not at all! I love kids.

Me: Not that I plan on meeting YOUR kid or anything like that. Just in general.

Me: I guess I just also didn’t think dads did…well, THAT with strangers in public.

Python: Are you ever going to just say it?

Me: NO!

Me: I don’t talk like that.

Python: Fine, I’ll say it: I touched your pussy, Monty. I led you into the bathroom, kissed you senseless, and rubbed your clit until you were panting in my ear, and you liked every damn second of it. You came undone from my touch alone. Your hair was wild and your eyes full of satisfaction. Your cheeks burned a scarlet red and I can’t fucking stop thinking about it.

Python: I want to see you come again. BAD.

Python: I know I said I’d stop but I couldn’t help it, not when you keep talking around it like you didn’t enjoy it just as much as I did.

Holy crow.

My heart is hammering in my chest, sweat beading up on the back of my neck. I’m suddenly so glad I wore this skirt today because man, oh man, is it hot in here.

I gather my long hair and twist it into an artful bun then pinch at my boatneck shirt and fan it, trying to give myself some reprieve.

I want to send so many things back to him—like my address, for starters.

The need to see him again, to kiss him again, to let him touch me again…is strong. I don’t get what’s come over me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of sexual encounters before. I’ve just never “gone all the way”.

I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin who was saving herself for marriage while her fiancé was giving himself to anyone and everyone.

Even though I’ve fooled around before, I can safely say I have never been so turned on by someone. I believe if we hadn’t been interrupted that night, I would have gone home with him in a heartbeat. Alcohol fueled a good part of it, and maybe the public setting too, but there was just something about Robbie that was different.

He felt…off limits.


All kinds of wrong, and so right.

“Hey, a—”


My phone goes flying from my hands at the unexpected interruption. I bend down to quickly retrieve it and inspect the damage—a chip in the corner.

And of course, I just got it.

I let out a frustrated groan as Brandon crosses the room, taking four long strides to reach me.

“Oh, hell. I’m so sorry, Monty. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. “No big deal.” It is. “What’d you need?”

“I-I…” he sputters, nervous now. He clears his throat, stands straight, and tries again. “I wanted to invite you out to dinner tonight.”

He must see the fear in my eyes because he’s waving his hands and launching into a pitch within seconds.

“It’s a group thing, you know, drinks downtown—nothing too crazy.”

I tilt my head. “So our weekly luncheon, just for dinner instead?”

He looks nervous again. “Um, no. It’d be with my buddies and their, uh, girlfriends. I figured you might want to meet some new people, you know, not just the staff here at Wayward Elementary…”


The polite girl my parents raised me to be knows I should say yes, should accept the invitation. I should be friendly, social, engaging.

But I don’t want to.

The whole reason I moved out here to live with Denny was to leave my “yes” life behind, because that’s all my life has ever been.

Yes, I’ll take care of the baby at three AM.

Yes, I’ll go to the college you pick.

Yes, I’ll marry you even though you cheat on me.

I almost did too, was so close to it. Then one day I woke up and realized I wasn’t living my life. I was living for everyone else and I couldn’t keep doing it. It was wearing me ragged, something a twenty-three-year-old shouldn’t be feeling.

Denny was the smart one out of the two of us. She left the moment we graduated and didn’t return for her entire four years of college…or after. I wish I was brave enough to do that, but I couldn’t leave Chuck, our younger brother, behind. I was too chicken.

After what happened with my ex and me almost walking into that kind of future, though, I knew I had to do something.

So, I called my twin, packed my bags, and was gone a week later.

My parents have called every day for the four months I’ve lived here, demanding I return home.

I refuse.

Just like I’m about to refuse this invitation to dinner.

“Thank you for thinking of me, Brandon, but I have plans this evening.”

His shoulders slump. It’s not the answer he was looking for.

“Perhaps another time?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I want to slap myself silly. All I’m doing is giving Brandon hope, and I shouldn’t be doing that, not when there’s no chance of anything between us.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Oh crud.

I reach for my purse and slide it around my shoulder, trying to get out of here without making more promises I don’t intend to keep.

“I’m heading out now. It was great seeing you.” I move toward the door and he stumbles to race me there, holding it open just as I expected he would.

“You too, Miss Andrews. I’ll see you next week at the luncheon?”

I nod and brush past him, exiting the classroom.

“Of course.”

I don’t look back as I power walk down the hall toward the exit, not giving him a chance to say anything else. I wave to the receptionist then push my way out of the building.

I toss my purse into the car, set my phone in the center console, and insert the key into the ignition.

A loud scream escapes me when my phone violently vibrates against the cup holder.

Python: Did I lose you?

Me: No.

Python: I was worried I scared you off.

Me: You didn’t. I was trying to blow off a coworker.

Python: Um. Okay then…

Me: What?

Me: Oh! Oh goodness! No! Not THAT kind of blowing off. Holy cats & dogs!

Python: I’m laughing so fucking hard right now.

Python: Not just because of your blunder but because I don’t think you ever cuss, do you?

Me: No. It doesn’t suit me.

Python: Yeah. You didn’t look like a cusser.

Python: I’m sorry if my potty mouth offends you.

Me: It doesn’t. It’s sort of…hot.

Python: Yeah? Good. Because I wasn’t going to suddenly stop cussing. It suits me just fucking fine.

Me: Shouldn’t you be working?

Python: Shouldn’t YOU be working?

Me: I’m finished for the day.

Python: Already? How?

Python: Wait—does this mean I can talk dirty again?

Me: No!

Me: And I’m already done because I’m not technically working right now. I don’t start for another month. I was taking pictures so I know how I need to decorate.

Python: Ah. That makes sense.

Me: Why aren’t you working?

Python: Oh, I am. I’m just multitasking.

Python: Also because my best friend is my boss and I don’t really HAVE to work.

Me: That doesn’t sound right.

Python: It’s not. It’s just what I tell myself to make me feel better about slacking off and not doing my job.

Python: Actually, I should go. I’ve spent too much time not working already.

Python: But, Monty?

Me: Yes?

Python: Can I text you again?

I don’t respond right away because I honestly don’t know what to say.

I want to say no because, though I don’t know him well, I can tell he’s all kinds of wrong for me. He’s crass and direct and out of my league.

But I want to say yes for all the same reasons because it’s the exact opposite of anything I’ve had before.

If I’m starting over fresh in a new state, might as well do it with a bang—maybe even a literal one.