Cooper: How’s my favorite ginger?
I grin and flop back on my tower of pillows.
Me: I thought Emma Stone was your favorite ginger?
There’s a long pause before the floating dots appear, but I wait him out because the alternative is working on the essay from hell.
Cooper: You’re moving up in the world. *winking emoji*
Eat your heart out, Emma Stone.
Cooper: You good?
I stare at the screen, unsure how to answer. On the surface, it’s a straightforward question, but there are a million ways to interpret it. He could be asking about my day, my health, or the fact that we screwed our brains out on Saturday night. His meaning is anyone’s guess.
So, like the coward I am, I take the easy way out.
Me: Yeah. You?
Cooper: Rough practice. No one told Coach that corporal punishment is canceled. Swear to God, the man is a sadist. I couldn’t do another burpee if I wanted to.
Me: Oof. What did you do?
Cooper: Why do you assume I did something?
I laugh as I type my reply.
Me: Because I’ve met you.
Cooper: Fair enough, but this time I’m entirely innocent. *angel emoji*
I snort. We both know he doesn’t have an innocent bone in his body. Frankly, it’s one of his more endearing qualities.
Cooper: A couple of guys on the team got into a scuffle with the baseball team. They were talking trash about Carter.
Because she’s a woman. He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. She’s killing it on the field, so what else could it be?
Me: Misogynistic pricks.
Cooper: Right? Maybe you can put that in your next article.
Me: Not likely. My editor has this whole thing about avoiding defamation lawsuits.
There’s a lull in the conversation and I turn my attention back to my laptop. Maybe I can pull a few lines out of this article as a jumping off point for my paper, though I’m still not sure what the overarching theme would be.
Howdidsex change my life?
Aside from the obvious, it’s too early to tell.
My phone buzzes and another message pops up.
Cooper: Let me get this straight. You can write about your sexploits, but you can’t write a hit piece on the baseball team? So much for freedom of the press.
I snort-laugh and mentally add sexploits to my vocabulary.
Me: Thanks again for Saturday night. I owe you one.
Cooper: You don’t owe me anything. Trust me, I had a great time.
