“No kidding.” She nods appreciatively before handing the phone back. “I don’t usually dig redheaded guys, but he’s a hottie.”
“I like the freckles on his shoulders,” Junie says.
I glance down at the photo and I have to admit, I dig the freckles, too. I hesitate, then type out a response.
Ah, the marriage pact. We were going to be each other’s last resort?
His response comes before I’ve set down my phone.
Your flattery is touching. You still up for it?
I laugh and take another sip of champagne. He’s kidding, right?
Sure. I’m not doing anything this weekend, so a wedding would be nice.
I hit send before I can tell myself it’s a bad idea. I’m being way flirtier than I normally would, and he has to think it’s weird.
Maybe I’ll blame the bubbly.
Ian replies with a thumbs-up emoji, followed by the little dots that tell me he’s still typing.
Want me to pick up a gumball-machine ring and print out a marriage license from some shady internet site?
I laugh and grab an olive. Ian was always one of those serious guys who didn’t pull stupid pranks or get off on frat-boy humor like most guys our age. Maybe that’s why his moments of lighthearted humor seemed more charming. But something changed when his parents split and he dropped out of school after his brother?—
The screen fills with a silly GIF of Homer Simpson in a wedding dress, and I smile as I take another sip of champagne.
“What?” Cassie asks. “What’s he saying?”
“We’re just joking about the marriage-pact thing,” I tell her. “He says he’s ready to go through with it.”
“Let me see his picture again.” Cassie holds out her hand, and I tap the screen a couple times to find another image. This one shows Ian in the cockpit of an airplane, wearing aviator glasses and a black T-shirt that showcases his toned biceps. The sisters and Junie peer at the screen.
“Very hot,” Cassie pronounces as she hands back my phone. “Those green eyes and that rumply red hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it.”
I stare down at my phone, surprised to realize I’ve never once considered running my hands through Ian’s hair. True, I’ve pictured a few other things. Not in explicit detail or anything, but?—
“What should I say?” I turn to my girlfriends for wisdom. Considering they’ve had more champagne than I have, it’s possible they’re not the best source of advice.
“Tell him you’ll marry him,” Junie says. “Wait. Does he have a job?”
“A good job,” I reply. “Some kind of aviation management thing.” Not that I know what that means, but it sounds impressive.
“Yep, might as well marry him.” Cassie lifts her champagne glass and gives me a smirk. “Better yet, tell him you want to skip the wedding and go straight for the honeymoon. Wedding planning is a pain in the ass.”
The sisters launch into some cheerful bickering about the perils of wedding planning, but I’m only half listening because I’m staring at my phone screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the oddly flirty tone of his last couple messages. Whatever it is, I suddenly find myself tapping out a reply that’s sooo not what I’d normally write to Ian.
Sure, I’m game. Let’s skip the wedding and go right to the honeymoon. I hear Hawaii’s nice this time of year.
There. Not too forward. If he freaks out, I can just say I’m tired and need a vacation. That’s all I’m after, not someone to talk sexy to me.
Liar.
There’s a long pause before the little dots appear to indicate an incoming reply. I hold my breath, wondering if I should have called it a night a few messages ago.
Excellent plan. Might as well consummate this engagement to make it official?
