Will.
Instinctively, I reach out to read his text—probably his response to the link for goat yoga classes in Brooklyn I went to yesterday just to prove to him they existed. I did not invite him to come with me.
Will
That’s insane. Those poor goats! You’ve goat-a be kid-ing me.
I snortat his excessive use of goat puns, my heart doing more somersaults than an olympian—something that’s been happening way too often when we talk.
He’s so adorable with his stupid dad jokes.
“Um, ma’am?” Molly eyes me suspiciously over our salads on our lunch break. “What’s going on here? Who has you smiling like that?”
My entire face falls, whatever flip was happening in my chest moved down to my stomach at the possibility of getting caught, of having to reveal this secret friendship. Because even though Molly and I have been close for several years, I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of whatever Will and I have. Not when it can affect my job and, in turn, hers for having been the one who helped get me hired. “Um. No one?”
“No one? Your face was about to split in two from how big you were smiling, and you literally just giggled.Giggled. Who even does that anymore?”
Admittedly, it shouldn’t be that difficult to hide this secret pen pal relationship I’ve been carrying on with a member of our client team. I mean, among the million things I could’ve done, I could’ve also justnotchecked my messages while in close proximity to anyone else. But my guard was down in front of Molly since she’s also a real life friend, and it was just too tempting to ignore the obnoxious personalized ringtone I set for Will—the chorus fromGet Knocked Downby Chumbawamba (it’s a long story that revolves around him telling me about the time he performed a dance in a talent show to this very song in parachute pants and me promising to never let it down. He refuses to send a picture of said performance, but I’ve vowed to obtain it one day).
Recently, we’ve evolved from email buddies to texting buddies, which has somehow opened up our relationship even more. Besides the fact that communicating has become faster and easier, having each other’s numbers has given way to the possibility of actuallycalling, of hearing each other’s voices. For some odd reason, though, I don’t feel ready enough for that yet. It’s like the stakes have been raised, but I’m not ready to push the limits. Still, knowing that it’s a possibility, that the opportunity to take this to verbal communication is there, is thrilling. It could be that it all feels like a secret neither of us can tell. It could also be that there’s an obvious attraction via text.
I sigh. “Just someone I met through Tinder.”As if I’d ever be caught dead on that app again. Vom. “We’ve only been chatting, though. No IRL communication, yet.”
I know I told Will I never lie, but this is different. I’m just trying to protect my job—and, honestly, probably my relationship with Molly. What would she say to finding out I have a flirty virtual friendship with someone from one of our clients? Would she tell me I was doing something wrong and chastise me? Tell me I’m going to get fired and ruin her reputation?
Still the guilt of the lie begins to eat at me, because it’s not in my nature. My throat tightens as if I’m having an allergic reaction to it or something. I swallow hard a couple of times and force a smile that I hope saysI am not hiding anything—I promise!
Molly eyes me suspiciously because she knows I’d die before joining another dating app. My only experience with them was short-lived and with good reason. I mean, what about meet cutes? Whatever happened to those? I understand that over fifty percent of relationships start like that now—possibly even more—but I want my movie moment.
“Tinder?” She asks, definitely not buying it.
“Yup.”
“Let me see that.” She reaches over the table to grab my phone, but I pull it away just in time.
“That’sprivate. Just focus on… on finishing your sixteen dollar salad!”
Molly frowns, looks down at her overpriced, yet delicious-looking chopped salad, and back at me. “Seventeen-fifty. They increased the price of avocados again.”
I gasp, bringing a hand to my chest. “I didn’t know you came from old money,” I tease. But also, who in their right mind would pay that much for a salad?
She pokes at her lettuce with a sigh. “No more good fats for me. I’m gonna have to start bringing lunch from home like a normal person.”
I think for a moment I’ve saved myself, distracted her enough by changing the topic to the same thing she eats every single day, until her eyes flash back at me.
“You’re deflecting,” she accuses, through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on? I thought you were holding out on dating again after the whole Roger thing.”
Ah, well. There’s that, too. Because “the whole Roger thing” is a euphemism for how the guy I was dating eight months ago kinda, almost destroyed my life. Three months into our relationship, he had already lied, cheated, scammed people around me into giving him money for a fake business, and somehow managed to get me kicked out of my previous apartment, leaving me homeless, before disappearing into the night with all my money and whatever material valuables I had (which admittedly weren’t many).
Thankfully, he didn’t take the only thing that truly matters to me: Ginger. That, and Grandma’s old teal chair.
“Oh. That. I forgot about that.” I sink in my seat.
“Youforgotabout that? How could you just forget about something like that?” she asks, a brow raised so high it almost gets lost beneath her bangs.
I shrug once and spear a piece of lettuce with my fork. “You know me. Always trying to focus on the positive.”
“The positive? The guy took off in the middle of the night with your grandmother’s necklace and pearl earrings which she gave you the night before she died. Wasn’t she the only family member you liked?”
