The three dots indicating he’s typing pop up and disappear a couple of times before the next message comes in.
LUKE:
Same.
I narrow my eyes at the text, as if he can see me. I wonder what he was going to say originally, but I don’t want to ask and embarrass him.
ME:
What are you watching?
The message shows asreadimmediately, but there are no typing dots. I’m starting to wonder if he’s going to ignore the question when the dots start bouncing on the screen again.
LUKE:
Just…you know. A comfort movie. It was on, so…
ME:
What movie? Maybe I’ll turn it on and watch too.
The dots immediately appear and disappear a few times, and then finally a message comes through:
LUKE:
It’s like…a classic. Don’t make fun of me, okay?
My heart squeezes at the vulnerability in the words. I quickly type back:
ME:
I would never.
It feels like it takes hours for him to type out his reply. I’m dying to know more about him, but he hasn’t been very forthcoming so far. I’m thinking maybe he chickened out when his response flashes across the screen.
LUKE:
The Little Mermaid
“Stop it right now, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” I exclaim out loud, imagining Luke curled up on his couch, Aggie under the blanket with him, watching a kids’ classic. I can’t say any of that to him, though, and instead go with:
ME:
Well that’s adorable.
LUKE:
Shut up…you promised you wouldn’t make fun.
ME:
I’m not! Swear to God. That’s a great choice. Who doesn’t want to kiss Prince Eric?
LUKE:
:)
I can’t explain the euphoria that I feel over that little smiley. Not even an emoji—anemoticon,like a true millennial.
