I’m terrible at following rules.
Figures. I bet you eat fries straight out of the bag before you even get home.
Who doesn’t?
People with self-control.
Sounds boring. Fun fact, fries are better when stolen.
That explains so much about you.
The tension in my chest eases slightly. Somehow, this stranger has a way of lighting up everything. Even when I’m dragging the weight of the world behind me. And the guilt of fantasizing about my sworn enemy.
So now that we’re officially on round two, what should I save you as in my contacts?
You’re assuming I’m into repeats.
What? I pop your accidental texting cherry, and now you’re playing hard to get?
If that was my first time, I’d expect flowers, a parade, and a commemorative plaque.
A plaque, huh? High standards.
Always. But don’t get too cocky—you’re not THAT memorable.
And yet…here you are, texting me again.
Temporary lapse in judgment. Don’t let it go to your head.
Too late. Now I’m officially your first AND second. I’m a trendsetter.
Or just lucky I’m bored. And have snacks.
Hey, whatever gets me the three-peat.
God help me—I’m smiling. This is ridiculous. But it’s also… nice.
So, what should I save you as?
Oh, we’re actually doing this?
Saving contact names? Uh, yeah.
No, pretending you didn’t ghost me.
Ghost has such a negative annotation.
You vanished.
Strategic silence. Can I plead to Rule #4 and say I was sleeping?
Not a chance.
Not fair. You didn’t text either. Pot. Kettle.
Touché.
Full confession…
