Page 42 of Texting My Secret CEO
Not in the mood to get in a car or a subway yet, I walk a couple of blocks. This is a nightlife neighborhood, partygoers everywhere. My phone vibrates again when I wander into a bar and take a seat at the very end. I order a glass of Coke and take out my phone.
Jack: I don’t want to come on too hot too fast. But the fact is that was an ugly thing back there. I wish I could take it back. The alternative, though, Dakota, would’ve been worse. Believe me.
Dakota: Worse than making me crawl around like your pet?
I shoot the text off, then stuff my phone in the pocket of the dresshe bought for me. A dress that probably cost more thanhis donations to my stream, thousands of dollars. So what? Does that mean he owns me now? Hell to the no.
I love my mother. But I don’t want tobemy mother.
My phone vibrates twice, but I ignore it, sipping my Coke slowly. My head is spinning. My heart pounds like thunder. I find myself thinking of Noah, the time Mara came rushing up to our front door with Noah beside her, stimming and crying.
“What happened?”I yelled, rushing downstairs and into my front yard, Mom and Dad joining me.
“The same jerks,”Mara said, looking at me darkly.
There used to be these douchebags who hung around at the end of our street. We lived in a decent neighborhood, and these middle-class kids had proclaimed themselves the bad boys of this little borough. I was only thirteen, but nothing could’ve stopped me. I marched down the street and screamed at these seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. Something snapped inside me. I’d made my decision, and that was that.
When I came back, Noah was grinning at me.“Dakky is in charge,”he said, beaming.“DakkyDuck always in charge.”
That was what he called me, that cute boy full of life. He was little when the nickname started. Apparently, my laugh sounded like Daphne Duck, but he couldn’t say it right. The nickname stuck, became my online name, and now hundreds of thousands of people, even millions, know the name. I’m not saying they tune in. I’m not saying they’re fans. But they’ve heard of me.
A third vibration. With a sigh, I finally check my phone.
The first two messages?—
Jack: The last thing I’d ever want to do is disrespect you. I feel like dirt knowing I did.
Jack: I’d rather you swear at me than this.
His third message reads.
Jack: Where are you? Let me give you a ride home.
I finally text back.
Dakota: You don’t have to do that. People will be suspicious if you leave.
Jack: Too bad. I already left. I said I was ill. I’m in my car, windows tinted to the max. Nobody knows it’s me cruising around this neighborhood. Are you in a cab already?
Dakota: No.
I cringe a little at the fact he mentioned tinted windows. Like he wants to remind me, this has to remain a secret.
Dakota: Should you be driving?
Is that petty? Or am I just scrambling for something to say?
Jack: I only had one and a half. I’d never drive drunk. I didn’t share this before, but that was how my mom did it. We thought it was an accident until we found the note.
Dakota: Did that even happen?
I type, then stare at the message in disbelief. I reallyamfeeling vicious. I delete the message and take a moment before I write my next text.
Dakota: I appreciate the effort, Jack, really. Maybe you’re thinking to yourself, What is this silly little girl doing, rejecting ME? I know you could have any woman in there. I saw the way they were looking at you. They’d crawl around whenever you wanted, I bet. I just need some space. Please.
Jack: I don’t want anybody else. I fucked up. I should’ve planned better. But hear this, Dakota. I ONLY WANT YOU.
Dakota: See, this scares me.
