Page 44 of Robbin’ the Rich

"That's your big plan?"

"Don't ruin this for me."

I laughed softly. And it came out fond instead of sarcastic… weird. "Okay."

A beat.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

His relief was rapid. "Excellent.”

The conversation drifted after that but remained easy and natural.

By the time I got home, we were talking about music. As I changed into pajamas, we'd moved onto favorite bands. And when I climbed into bed with my phone plugged into the charger beside me, we'd somehow reached the topic of our first concerts.

"My mom took me to see Shania Twain when I was ten," I admitted.

Micah hummed. "That's incredible."

"It was pretty good… not that I would admit it now."

"Mine was They Might Be Giants."

I laughed. "That is the most Micah answer possible."

"What does that mean?"

"It means your tattoo sleeve absolutely checks out."

His groan made me smile into my pillow. Then somehow that led into childhood stories. We ran the gamut from summer vacations to school activities.

"I did Girl Scouts forever," I said.

"Oh really?"

"What?"

"You sold cookies, didn't you?"

"I did, and was incredibly successful, I should add."

"You were a tiny capitalist."

"I earned a bow."

His laughter echoed warmly through the phone. "A bow?"

"Not like a hair bow. Archery you asshole."

"That makes more sense. Although I’m a little scared of Robbin’ Banks with a weapon."

"I was terrifying."

"I believe that."

The conversation continued wandering aimlessly through memories. It was so comfortable it was hard to believe we'd known each other for only a week.