SEWANEE:
lol
Speak for yourself. I can go all night.
BROCK:
Just thought you’d slip that in?
SEWANEE:
Well. I don’t like to beat around the bush.
BROCK:
Maybe I should go deeper into this.
SEWANEE:
Oh, it’s about to go down.
BROCK:
Wait, I don’t want to blow it.
SEWANEE:
You’re making this too hard.
BROCK:
Not hard enough.
SEWANEE:
Awww, it’s okay, happens to every man at some point.
BROCK:
Easy come . . .
SEWANEE:
Don’t brag.
Sewanee’s cheeks ached from the smile on her face. If someone walked in, she knew she’d appear absolutely deranged. A picture appeared in the chat. A meme of a Golden Retriever holding a giant femur in its mouth. The caption read: WANNA BONE? She blurted a laugh, then, realizing how loud it had been, closed the booth door.
SEWANEE:
No thanks. I should get off.
BROCK:
And scene!
SEWANEE:
Oh, are you done?
BROCK:
Almost. Just finishing.
She debated for half a second.
SEWANEE:
Need a hand?
She watched bubbles appear . . . then stop. More bubbles . . . another stop. What was he typing?
Then:
Okay, okay, I’m out, you win. Service ace.
SEWANEE:
And match.
BROCK:
Good volley.
Can I have my balls back?
SEWANEE:
bahahahahaahaha
BROCK:
You.
SEWANEE:
What?
BROCK:
Just. You.
SEWANEE WAS IN an epic line at Costco when her phone dinged.
BROCK:
Question. Got a sec?
SEWANEE:
No, I don’t know where babies come from.
BROCK:
Dammit.
Before pulling out of her parking space, Sewanee texted:
Still waiting for your question.
BROCK:
Still waiting to ask it.
Leaning against the replenished shelves in Mark’s garage, Sewanee texted:
Seriously?
BROCK:
You know what? Never mind.
SEWANEE:
oh COME ON!
BROCK:
It doesn’t matter.
SEWANEE:
I am never letting this go, you know that, right?
BROCK:
Ughhhh
SEWANEE:
Waiting . . .
BROCK:
Forget it.
SEWANEE:
tick tock
BROCK:
It’s just, I thought it mattered, but now I think it doesn’t.
SEWANEE:
Cool. Now tell me.
She went inside. Checked the apple supply. Put the kettle on. Refreshed the pretzels.
SEWANEE:
SERIOUSLY??
BROCK:
ok ok give me a second!!!
Please take this in the spirit with which I mean it.
I want to make sure nobody’s getting hurt.
Or confused.
I don’t want anything weird.
Between us.
In the end.
SEWANEE:
Nice haiku. Question please.
BROCK:
Blargh.
SEWANEE:
STIFFY!!!!!
The bubbles started, so Sewanee put the phone on the counter, grabbed a mug, a tea bag, promised herself she wouldn’t look at her phone until she heard it ding. Betrayed that promise thirty seconds later, felt like an idiot, had just set the phone back down on the counter when it dinged again.
BROCK:
It’s just this: since we began texting, I have gotten concerned–albeit irrationally （can’t believe I used the word ‘albeit’）–that maybe I/you/we were possibly, potentially （probably?）， crossing a line.
SEWANEE:
And?
BROCK:
And . . .
I was thinking that I should ask
You
If you’re single.
（I feel like I’m in middle school for christsake.）
SEWANEE:
*pete’s sake
BROCK:
This would be easier if Pete could pass a note with check boxes to one of your friends in study hall.
SEWANEE:
So you want to know if I’m single because . . . ?
BROCK:
bcuz someone else could be looking at your phone!! You never know who’s looking at your phone!!
Not that there’s anything inappropriate.
Too inappropriate.
（for the record this is going just as badly as I predicted）
What I mean to say is THIS:
I would never want somebody to think I was coming on to his woman.
（Or her woman???）
Again with the smiling she couldn’t seem to contain. His adorable awkwardness prompted her to answer him amusingly, but sincerely. Why was her hand shaking?
SEWANEE:
You’re safe. I’m single.
His next text appeared simultaneously:
I know I can be jokey and flirty. And it might be confusing to tell what’s real and what’s not. Am I making any sense at all?