Page 18 of Love in the Time of Conversation Hearts

I scramble to unsend the message, and for a few, blissfully quiet moments, I think I’ve managed to do it.

Until my phone lights up with rapid-fire messages.

Charlie: Too late, bitch. I already saw it.

Dorothy: Where are those little pictures you can send?

Aubrey: GIFs?

Dorothy: No, the little yellow guys.

Aubrey: Oh, emojis. Push the little globe on the bottom left.

Lauren: I’m going to bet she meant that to go in a private message to me.

Aubrey: What message? I didn’t see a message.

Charlie: About how she has the hots for the mayor.

Harrison: Ladies, where’s the fire?

Harrison: Oh.

Harrison: GROSS.

Lauren: Do you need me to call you? This sounds serious.

Harrison: Get me out of this group chat. I do not need to know anything about my sister’s love life.

Charlie: But consider all of the things you can do with this information, H.

Harrison: *barf*

Harrison: Oh, that’s a good point.

Aubrey: Are you okay, Cora? Do you need us to come get you?

Lauren: Everyone, chill out. Cora, I’m going to call you.

Just before Lauren’s call pops up on my screen, I see a string of emojis from Dorothy, most of them involving vegetables that are longer than they are wide. I grimace as I answer Lauren’s call and press the phone to my ear.

“Well, my day just got a lot more interesting,” she says by way of greeting.

I groan, but before I can say anything, a rapid banging rattles the door. I lurch to my feet and yank it open, revealing a balding man with squinty eyes I recognize from the session I was just in. He shoves past me holding his stomach and looking like he ate too many bean burritos at lunch. As I rush to move out of the way so he can close the door, an almost cartoonish pfft sound squeaks out, followed by a noxious smell. I get as far away as I can and tuck myself into a corner.

“Hello? Cora? Are you there?” Lauren is saying. “What’s going on? Did you lose a bet or something? Have you been kidnapped?”

I perk up with an idea. “Ha ha,” I intone, playing it up to sound convincing. “You got me. I lost a bet to Adam and had to text everyone I know that he’s good looking. You know him. Always looking to stroke his ego.” I fake-laugh to really drive it home.

Lauren is silent for a few seconds before she says, “God, you are a terrible liar.”

My shoulders slump forward, defeated. “I know,” I whine. “I absolutely did not mean for that to go to the group chat.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says as if brushing this away. “I’ll distract them.”

“What is possibly going to distract them from the fact that I admitted that my archnemesis, Adam Sullivan, is hot?”

“I’ll think of something.” She pauses. “Or I’ll bring over like twenty bottles of wine and get them all drunk. Now, can we please get to the important topic at hand? What is going on with you?”