[9:51]: Not much!
[9:51]: Just recovering from yesterday, really
[9:52]John:and plotting to overthrow Shelley, I hope
[9:52]: Haha
[9:53]: Yeah, I’m designing a new exhibit
[9:53]: Well, not so much an exhibit as a way to balance a barrel on Shelley’s office door so it’ll fall on her head when she walks in
I add a row of evil smiley faces.
[9:54]John:lol
[9:54]John:I’ll help with that one
I pause, then type again.
[9:56]: See you tomorrow for Wordle?
[9:57]John:GREAT.
[9:57]John:?
The smiley face sends a warm little fizz through my chest. My lips stretch into a smile.
[9:58]: Great.?
18
Don’t judge me, okay, but I may have done a stupid thing.
Last night, after I texted with John, I was feeling all giddy and squiggly, so I decided it was a perfectly good time to have my two acceptable weekly drinks. And since I didn’t see anywhere on the new alcohol guidelines about how quickly you’re supposed to drink them, I saw absolutely no harm in downing two full glasses of wine like they were tequila shots.
Whoops.
After they kicked in (and after I spent about thirty minutes dancing around the house to ABBA’s greatest hits), it suddenly seemed like areallygood idea to make John a thank-you card for fixing my car and helping out with the event.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking. What am I, twelve years old? Andyes, I do vaguely remember making a birthday card for a boy I had a crush on when I was twelve. But I didn’t do this because I have a crush on John, okay? I just think it’s polite to make people thank-you cards. I made one for my dentist last year, and you’re not going to accuse me of having a crush on her, are you?
(Actually, it would be way more likely that I’d have a crush on her than on John. She’s seriously gorgeous, and she owns like five dental practices around the island, so she’s clearly a very driven person.)
Anyway. Stupid decision or not, I’ve made John a homemadethank-you card. It’s in my bag right now, and I have to admit, I’m pretty proud of it.
I take my bag with me to the break room at lunch on Monday, and while John’s heating up a bowl of pasta in the microwave, I take the card out all casual-like.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say (okay, lie). “I made you this, for fixing my car. And for helping out so much with the museum.”
He wipes his hands on his coveralls—it makes zero difference, they’re still covered in grease—and takes the card from me. On the front, I’ve drawn a Wordle game, exactly how it looks on the app. The words are MOTOR, BRAKE, AXLES, THANK, YOUTH, and JOHNS, but I’ve done it so that all the letters are gray or yellow, except for green letters that spell out “THANK YOU JOHN.”
It’s pretty cool, if I do say so myself.
John’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, then he grins, like he thinks it’s pretty cool too.
“This is awesome,” he says, flashing that lightning-strike smile at me. My cheeks grow hot under his gaze, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling like an idiot.
And okay, fine. I’ll admit it.
