“Freakingout…?”
“Pleading their cases. Doing everything but dropping down on one knee. Guys who’ve been flirting with me formonthssuddenly fear the pussy might be unavailable to them and they all step up their game. They’re sending requests for dates, fucking poetry, dick pics, you name it. Dick videos, actually, that’s the latestthing.”
“Um. What happens in a dickvideo?”
“Oh, babe. If you’ve gotta ask, you really don’t wannaknow.”
“Roni.” She poked my shoulder. “Should I be getting excited aboutthis?”
“About the dickvideos?”
“AboutJude. And you. Are you going off themarket?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever really been off the market before. I don’t even know what thatis.”
“Well… is it serious? The thing withJude?”
I glanced at my phone again. I had seven new messages in the last, what, three minutes? All from men. Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook, Tinder, text message. They all knew where to find me. They popped up all over the place, like Whac-A-Moles. There was even a message from my hopefully-soon-to-be-ex-boss, casually inquiring what I was doing tonight. While his wife was who-knew-where.
Not one message fromJude.
After he’d texted me last night, with hisI liked you. I should’ve said that more, I’d texted back withYes, youshould’ve.
Since then, not aword.
I tossed my phone aside and told Jessa, “It’s reallynot.”
* * *
He messagedme at 1:07am.
I was out at a club with Talia and a couple of her girlfriends. She’d messaged me on Snapchat before I left Jessa’s, and of all the invites I’d received tonight—it was Friday night, so there were several—Talia’s cutesy selfie of her and two of her girlfriends with a kitten face filter wonout.
The club I met them at was packed, like sweaty-wet-as-you-climbed-over-people-trying-to-get-to-the-bar packed, definitely over capacity, and the girls were drunk when I arrived. And let’s just say that a group of hawt twenty-two-year-old drunk chicks at a bar drew the dudes like horny flies, so while we spent the night dancing, we were prettyswarmed.
I really wasn’t feeling it, so I was serving up a steady stream ofI have a boyfriend, that universally polite kiss-off that usually did the trick. If it didn’t, the guy was a creep, and I didn’t have to be polite about it anymore. Those were the rules as far as I knewthem.
But I definitely didn’t mind bumping and grinding my twenty-seven-year-old hawtsingleself in the vicinity of a bunch of hawt young dudes—as long as they kept their body parts tothemselves.
That’s what I was doing at 1:07, so I didn’t actually get Jude’s message until 1:18.
Jude:Heybeautiful.
That wasall.
Maybe that was all ittook.
Because I texted rightback.
Me:Hey yourself,gorgeous.
That was the booze talking. We’d been doing Blow Job shooters and drinking cider (both horrible ideas) and I was telling myself how awesome it was to beon the market, while all the while I kept sneaking peeks at my phone, hoping to hear fromhim.
Jude:Youout?
That came in at 1:23, at which point I decided,It’son.
I was totally aware that a guy who texted a girl at 1:07 am was definitely thinkingWhere should I put my dick tonight?as opposed toWhere’s that lovely lady I want to bring home toMom?
