I grunt,
flipping her off without lifting my head.
“Why not send him some dumbass GIF?
“Shit—drop that Cowgirl picture.” she cackles.
“That’ll get his ass real attentive.”
I scoff,
pretending to be more confident than I feel.
“My point exactly.
“He’d expect the standard shit?—
“nudes, clever meme, cute GIF.
“Predictable as hell.
“But a rap?”
I flick an imaginary lighter.
“Blindsides the motherfucker.”
She mutters into her coffee?—
“Or, you know,
“has him filin’ for a restraining order."
Maybe she’s right.
But maybe I don’t give a fuck.
She settles her gaze on me,
peeling the bullshit off me layer by layer.
“Never seen you act up like this for a guy,”
she says, smirking. “You big bothered.”
"Not bothered. Just balancing the karma before it comes back to bite me,” I mutter. “That's it. For real—cleanin' up the bad juju I left lyin' around.”
I'm a big-bothered fucking liar. 'Cause truth?
I haven’t breathed right in five hours.
“Good, 'cause I'mma remind you of two names.” She throws up two fingers. “Cooper. Hunter.”
The names hit.
Cooper—
who thought bruises were love letters.
