Me: Bellevue.
AmbrosiaMercer: How does he know I go there?
Me: It’s in your profile, dork.
AmbrosiaMercer: Oh. Why is he looking for me?
Me: He says you’re the prettiest girl in the world and has been looking for you.
AmbrosiaMercer: Hm, tell him pretty words don’t do shit for me, and also that I’m good. Not interested.
Me: You don’t know him.
AmbrosiaMercer: I know his type, and I’m good.
Her and this damntypeshit. I know she knows it’s me. She has to, but I won’t say a word. This is my only link to her, and I’m not giving it up.
Me: I don’t think he agrees, but he’s also wondering why he never sees you at parties.
AmbrosiaMercer: He seems obsessed.
Me: Oh, totally.
AmbrosiaMercer: Should I be worried?
I think back to what I told Charlotte, and all I can do is grin.
Me: Nah, I’ll protect you.
AmbrosiaMercer: This is feeling very Misery. Number one fan tying me to a bed and breaking my knees.
Blood rushes to my cock, and the most wicked grin comes over my face.
Me: I mean, if I’m the one tying you to a bed, you’ll be screaming, but not from me taking out your knees. Tho, I will be between them.
AmbrosiaMercer: Well, look at that. The block button is looking really good.
Me: Man, you’re ruthless.
AmbrosiaMercer: And you’re gross.
Me: Or I was trying to be flirty.
AmbrosiaMercer: Fell flat, my guy.
Me: Shit.
Me: Let’s move on, and you tell me why no one ever sees you anywhere.
She types a few times, deleting and retyping before, finally, her words fill my screen.
AmbrosiaMercer: I’m a homebody, and the last time I went out, I got the call my dad passed away.
A hollow sensation burns in my chest as I read her words, feeling the pain in each of them.
Me: That fucking sucks.
AmbrosiaMercer: Yeah, kind of ruined my college experience. Now, I just work and hang out at the house.
