MADDOX
When I getanother notification that Austin had canceled her show for the third night in a row, I text her again.
Maddox
You gonna tell me you’re spending the night with Kenny again or are you gonna fess up to what’s wrong?
Her response comes quickly.
Tex
You know, it’s customary to include your name when you randomly text someone who doesn’t have your number. I would’ve responded this morning if I knew it was you.
I want to wring my own neck.
Maddox
Sorry. Why’d you cancelyour show again?
Tex
Why’re you keeping tabs on me, Mustached Rancher? Thought you said you weren’t gonna watch anymore.
God, she’s such a brat. She can’t ever just answer me, she’s always gotta give me a hard time. I realize I’m smiling at my phone like Tyler does when my sister’s texting him and force it off my face out of principle. I’m thirty-goddamn-two.
Maddox
You’re being a brat again.
Tex
Part of my appeal.
A second later, a call comes through.
“I thought your generation hated phone calls,” I answer.
She huffs out a laugh that sounds unintentional and I can’t help it when the stupid grin comes back, just because I made her smile. “And I thought your generation was technologically incompetent, but you got yourself around a cam girl site easily enough.”
“I’m notthatold, Tex.”
“Are you sure about that? You were trying awfully hard to convince me there was such alargeage gap between us,” she reminds me, and I feel my face fall a bit.
I’m pretty sure I’d hurt her feelings when I said I wouldn’t sleep with her. I’ve replayed the moment in my head a million times since Saturday, and everything she said to me after that had lacked her flirty playfulness.
“Just so you know, I wasn’t trying to imply anything when I said I wasn’t gonna sleep with you,” I tell her and I swear I hear the smack of her mouth opening to get defensive, but I don’t give her a chance. “I wasn’t turning you down to be mean. I just meant there are an awful lot of reasons it’s a bad idea.”
I wanted to add that attractive was too tame of a word for how downright sexy I thought she was, but I figured it wasn’t really in the best interest. Or at least not in the best interest of my plan to keep us from knocking boots.
She’s quiet and I hate it because I have no clue what’s running through her mind right now, but I figure it’s probably not good. “Can we FaceTime?” I ask her.
“No,” she replies, a bit too quickly. “I don’t want to see your ugly mug tonight.”
I play along even though something about her quick response doesn’t feel right. “Damn. I wanted to show you how pale my upper lip is since I shaved off my mustache.”
She gasps as though I just told her that her bar went up in flames. “You’d better be joking, Maddox Clyde!” she says in her best impression of Mama.
“Guess you’d have to FaceTime me to see,” I reply, leaning back against the headboard. I put the call on speaker and my thumb hovers over the button that’ll add video to the call.
