Page 24 of Every November

“Cool you like it so much.” I don’t want to be a dick, but my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. “I gotta run to the restroom.”

“Okay, I’ll just be here with my friends.” She points over her shoulder, and I nod before walking away.

The exit is on the way to the bathroom, so I make a last-second decision to split. The winter air nips at my skin as soon as I’m outside, but I ignore it. Once I get into my Jeep, I turn it on, blast the heat, and pull out my phone.

Evan:

Are you into psychological thrillers?

What kind of random question is this? Am I about to listen to another person pitch a show to me?

Instead of answering right away, I do what I usually do and scroll back to the start of our text thread. There’s not a ton, but rereading it has become a favorite pastime of mine. The first message is the hotel link I initially sent him. There really was no reason I needed to text him the hotel link when I knew he’d ride with me, but it felt easier than outright asking him for his number since there was no chance he’d deny me.

My eyes start skimming the texts between us, even though I practically have them memorized by this point.

Saturday, November 24

Evan:

Have a safe drive back today.

Me:

Thanks.

Sunday, November 25

Evan:

Made it back to Seattle. Flight was delayed, but I’m home now. Still thinking about Friday night.

Me:

Good. You should be.

Evan:

Bold words from a guy who fell asleep on me.

Me:

You wore me out. That’s on you.

Evan:

Is that a complaint?

Me:

Not even close.

Evan:

When are you back in Bloomington next?

Me:

Probably Christmas. You?