Page 17 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Oh god.” I press my hand against my forehead and look around the room for someone, something to save me from this. “I should have never sent those flowers. My bluff has been called. What do I do?” I begin to spiral, spinning in a circle hysterically to try to find a way to answer his message.
What have I done?
“Deep breath, Jovie. You got yourself into this. Now, it’s time for you to get yourself out.”
I stare at his messages, tapping my fingers on the desk. A million thoughts are running through my mind. There are only a few ways to go about this. I follow along with my original plan, talk to him, flirt a little, maybe it goes somewhere or maybe it doesn’t. Or I tell him the truth right now.
That’s the smart move. I’ll text him to tell him what my plan was and beg for forgiveness.
My fingers hover over the keyboard and I chew nervously on my bottom lip. Bubbles on his end pop up and I hold my breath.
Santino: “If you don’t answer, I will ignore any and all deliveries you send. You want my attention. You have it. Who are you?”
I go against my instincts because there is still a pilot light inside me that burns with need to have Santino be mine and have Luca be furious that I had the audacity to go after his father.
Me: “I can’t tell you that. All I know is that I want to get to know you better. Did you like the flowers?”
Santino: “If I don’t know who you are, then how do I know if I can trust you?”
Santino: “Men don’t typically get flowers.”
I bend down and press my elbows against the desk, grinning with my newfound confidence.
Me: “I promise you can trust me. I know that means nothing right now but as you continue to talk to me, you’ll find out on your own. And that’s not what I asked. I asked if you liked the flowers.”
Santino: “I don’t usually talk to people I don’t know. This is unusual. I’m not a very trusting person. I could track this number and find out who you are in minutes.”
“Oh, fuck. I didn’t think of that.” I bang my forehead on the edge of the counter, groaning from such a rookie mistake. Of course, he can track it. “You idiot.” This is a bad plan. If he were to call me and it went to voicemail, he’d hear my personalized voice message.
I didn’t think this through enough.
Santino: “Watch the attitude, even if I like it, but yes, I like the flowers. It’s a gesture I’m not used to.”
“Be calm. You can do this, Jovie.” I hype myself up, hoping it won’t blow up in my face.
Me: “I’m glad. I’ll send more, then, to remind you you’re on my mind.”
“Oh, that’s good. High-five, Jovie,” I say to no one but myself.
Me: “Why haven’t you tracked me, then? If you can, why don’t you?”
Him: “I’ll be looking forward to it. And I don’t know, I think I’m curious about you more than anything and I like the uncertainty and not knowing. I’m not sure how long I’ll like it for, but for now, I’m enjoying it.”
Me: “I don’t plan to remain a secret forever. I’m hoping to talk to you, to get to know you, and then reveal myself.”
Santino: “So you’re trying to seduce me? Is that it?”
Me: “Maybe.”
Santino: “Hmm, maybe? I like conviction, Ms. Smith.”
Me: “Well, Mr. Smith, then the answer is yes, but first, I want you us to get to know each other first. I’m not the kind of girl to fall into bed with someone on the first night.”
I like the nicknames. It shows that he is interested. He is flirting, letting down his guard. I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not. The only lie here is why this plan started and why I’m not revealing identity. Other than that, whatever him and I talk about will be genuine. Hopefully, when all this is said and done, he will forgive me easily.
Santino: “What kind of woman are you?”
Me: “I’m not hard to please. I’m not high maintenance. I enjoy the little things the most. I’m a hard worker. I love beautiful sunny days, but when it rains, I love to cuddle on the couch witha big blanket and put on a comfort show. What kind a man are you?”
