Betting on You

Goddammit.

I stared at the phone, waiting for Bailey to respond and wondering when in the hell I’d lost all common sense. Had I seriously just admitted to the one person in the world that didn’t mindfuck me on a regular basis that I liked making her smile?

I was a moron.

Yes, Charlie, you should absolutely admit that you like making her smile. That is a brilliant way to ensure your coworker exits your life.

The phone lit up in my hands.

Bailey: Well my favorite thing about you is the way your voice gets deep and crackly when you’re tired.

Well, shit. I rolled over, the bar of the pullout sofa totally digging into my back, and I texted: The only thing you like about me is my voice??

Bailey: Not what I said. I said it’s my FAVORITE thing, because you’re relaxed and mellow when your voice gets like that. Your edges soften a little.

My edges.

I wasn’t sure how she knew me so well, how she’d somehow always seen me.

I spent most of my time feeling like everyone in my life didn’t get me, yet there was Glasses, seeing right through me.

Bailey: Should I have a pet name for you?

I smiled in the darkness, wondering how best to irritate her. How about King?

Bailey: Gross

I pictured her eyebrows scrunching up as I texted: Lover?

Bailey: You’re making me queasy. I’ll just stick with Charlie.

I replied: Or Sex God?

Bailey: No one in the history of the world has ever used Sex God as a pet name. Can you even imagine?? Example: Can you pick up milk on the way home, Sex God? DOESN’T WORK.

I chuckled and texted: I would fucking speed to the milk store if you sent me that.

Bailey: The milk store?

I wanted to laugh as I replied: You’re biting your cheek right now, aren’t you?

Bailey: LMAO that is scary.

Me: But true.

Bailey: Sleep tight.

I smiled in the darkness. Good night, Lover.

Bailey: Good night… Sex God.

Oh. Fuck.

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