A friend I’d known for years instead of weeks.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Okay, I should try to sleep. Practice tomorrow.
jacks_mills_52: Right. Yeah. Go be a responsible professional athlete.
PuckingSkylerShaw: The worst part of the job, honestly.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Hey, can I get your number? Texting is easier than Instagram.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
This was a line, maybe, wasn’t it? It felt like a line.
A small one, but still.
Moving from Instagram to actual texting felt different somehow.
More real.
Morepersonal.
But I was already typing.
jacks_mills_52: Yeah, sure.
I sent my number. He responded with a thumbs-up emoji and a “Night, Jacks.”
I stared at those two words for way too long.
Then my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Testing, testing. Is this thing on?
I saved the contact under Skyler Shaw, then returned to the text.
Then returned to the contact entry and replacedhis name with PuckingSkylerShaw.
That had me grinning so wide my cheeks ached.
Me: Nope. Wrong number. This is a Wendy’s.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Perfect. I’ll take a Frosty and some nuggets.
Me: Sir, this is the morgue.
PuckingSkylerShaw: But I’m not dead yet.
Me: Fuck me. Did you go all Monty Python on me?
PuckingSkylerShaw: Now I’m actually impressed. If you start bangin’ two coconuts together, I might propose.
Me: Jesus. You’re a disaster.
PuckingSkylerShaw: A good disaster? Never mind. Don’t answer. Unless you do it “with big pointyteeth.”
Me: You’re impossible! Go. Sleep. Be athletic.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Aye aye, captain.
