Page 46 of Irresistibly Us
You do that. I always collect [winky face emoji]
The second I hit send, I wince because a winky face emoji? Seriously? No one should let me near a phone keyboard. I can’t be trusted not to be a total tool. When the next message comes through, I laugh right out loud.
ChaosQueen
A winky-face emoji? Seriously? Is that your attempt at…flirting?
RenegadeRush
Nah. Chaos girl, when I’m flirting, you’ll know it.
ChaosQueen
I’ll wait with bated breath.
I’m about to walk in the door so I have to run. I need pajamas, food, and to put an end to this day from absolute hell.
RenegadeRush
Have a good night, pretty friend. Looking forward to your question tomorrow.
ChaosQueen
How do you know I’m pretty?
RenegadeRush
I can just tell.
ChaosQueen
Well, then we match because you have serious hot guy energy.
Goodnight, football guy.
RenegadeRush
Goodnight, chaos girl.
Setting down my phone, I can’t stop the grin that spreads over my face at that last exchange, and when I hear the front door open along with Sophie’s muttered “Fucking finally,” my smile grows so wide I’m shocked it doesn’t crack my face in half, and every thought of my chaos girl leaves my head at the sound of the real-life girl walking into my house.
Riddle me this, but I love hearing her come in the door, knowing this is where she lives, at least for a while. My mind flashes back briefly to Sophie on my lap last night and my three a.m. minor freak out over whether I may or may not be feeling some kind of way about my best friend. I’m just self-aware enough to admit the answer to that is a solid maybe, but not quite ready to delve into the ramifications of that particular revelation.
“Ty, you home?” Her voice is followed by a series of thuds as she drops what I’m sure are many, many bags, and two loudclunksthat are, no doubt, her boots hitting the floor wherever they land after she flings them off, and I know I’m about to have a trail of her stuff in my entry way for the foreseeable future.
Proof of Sophie.
I love it so fucking much.
“Kitchen,” I call, getting up from my seat to check the sauceand flick the burner on under the pot of water sitting on the stove.
“Oh my god, you’re my hero.”
I turn from the stove to see Sophie standing in the kitchen doorway wearing jeans and a bright green sweater I know she borrowed from Maya this morning, one wrist full of bangles and her hair a mass of curls tumbling down her back. My grin returns full force along with a gust of warmth in my chest. “I did many, many heroic things today, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”
She rolls her eyes, but her lips tip up in a smile. “I’m talking about the spaghetti and meatballs on the stove. That’s what it is right? Please say that’s what it is because I deserve spaghetti and meatballs after this day.”
Setting the spoon down, I lean my elbows on the counter. “Sal, I’ve known you for twenty-six years. If you think I wouldn’t make your comfort meal when you had to wade through a flood in your house before eight in the morning and then work a full day, I’ll be offended because that means you don’t know me at all.”
