417-725-3690 (6:20 p.m.):
Who? Sorry. I think you have the wrong number.
Lily (6:21 p.m.):
Oh, shit!!
Lily (6:21 p.m.):
I’m so sorry!
Lily (6:23 p.m.):
HARLOW
417-725-3690 (6:23 p.m.):
Lily (6:24 p.m.):
You’re officially going into my phone as Pain of my Ass
Pain of my Ass (6:27 p.m.):
I could be a pain in your ass, but I didn’t think you’d be into that…
Lily (6:28 p.m.):
Omfg
Lily (6:28 p.m.):
Stoppp
Lily (6:29 p.m.):
But also we can talk about it later
Pain of my Ass (6:30 p.m.):
Tell me when and where
Chapter Eight
February
I’m no stranger to casual arrangements, so, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting for Harlow and I to start texting. I didn’t think I’d message her again until I was headed back to Michigan, but I couldn’t help it. I love having someone in my life who shares my love for traveling. Plus, she’s fun to talk to. She makes me laugh and conversation flows effortlessly.
I expected the fact I’m so sporadic in my messaging to annoy Harlow, but she doesn’t care. Half the time, it also takes her hours to respond when she’s busy at work. It makes things easy. We both know we’ll eventually respond when we can.
It doesn’t mean anything deep, we’re obviously still casual. I even hooked up with someone the week I got home after the holidays. It was with some random woman I met at a bar. The sex was okay, I guess, but all my mind and body could think about was my time with Harlow, and the new experience felt so bland and unsatisfying in comparison. Ihaven’t hooked up with anyone else, but I could. Harlow probably is.
I don’t care if she is.
We arecasual.
I glance at my phone again and frown at the lack of notifications. Harlow hasn’t texted since this morning. It’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t expect to hear from her, but still, I can’t help but check my phone in case I miss a text.
Pouring myself a third glass of wine, I turn the volume up on the movie people won’t shut up about online. But this shit is weird. I finish slicing my lime when the damn dog on screen starts talking.
