I thank the cashier and step away from the register, eager to read the message. With my bag of groceries hooked on one wrist and my coffee and croissant in the other, I click through.
Callie
that was you last night?
No use lying about it. She’d figure it out and if I lie and say it’s not me, then she’d probably freak out even more because that would mean someone else was in her apartment.
Plus, I didn’t have a shirt on, and she’d seen my distinctive tattoos. The tattoos she said she liked.
Something’s definitelywrong with me.
Me
yes
Callie
I can’t believe you
I suck in a breath. Here it comes. A reminder I’m a psychopath. I’ll stay calm, agree with her, get the job done she hired me for, and leave her alone. Even though I’m already attached to the fiery woman.
Me
about that—I’m sorry if that crossed a line
Callie
if that crossed a line? Are you fucking joking?
Maybe she’s going to call the cops. Noah is going to kill me. I’m supposed to be the responsible one. But if she was going to call the cops, wouldn’t she have done it by now? Also, I just confessed via text. Fuuuuck.
Callie
at least I now know to triple check my doors. or check them at all
Me
as if that would keep me out
Oops! Maybe that was (another) inside thought.
Me
sorry. I didn’t mean to joke. I am sorry about what I did. I have boundary issues sometimes
Callie
it really freaked me out
Me
I know. I just thought since you liked my tattoos maybe you’d want to see them again? Obviously a bad call
Callie
as a surprise in my bedroom in the middle of the night was quite the choice. What the fuck, Wes
I search for the right way to respond to this. She’s still talking to me, which is a good thing, but she’s clearly pissed. I don’t want her to cut me off, and she might be on the verge of that. She should be.
