“Really?” I arch a brow.
“Well…okay, no. It is a legitimate concern, but you’re also an adult and can make your own decisions when it comes to your love life.”
“One text conversation does not a love life make.” I go for another gulp of wine then remember I’m out and in need of a refill.
“He texted you?”
“Already?”
“He didn’t wait three days?”
“Wait? A conversation? As in you sent multiple messages?”
Ella and Zoey’s questions come at me like pucks flying at a net in shooting practice.
Picking up the Moscato from the counter, I long to forgo the glass and drink straight from the bottle. Unfortunately, Sundays are a matinee performance, and I’m not the type to show up hungover.
Meddlers One and Two lunge for my phone, already scrolling through my texts. I could stop them, but it would only pull the focus back to everything and make them think something will happen when in reality it’s a dead end.
I retake my spot on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me, and focus my attention where it belongs—on a shirtless Mr. Hunnam.
Chapter Six
THE BIG HAMMER: *meme of potatoes saying, “It’s amazing how potatoes give us chips, fries, and vodka. Get your shit together, every other vegetable.*
BROADWAY BABY: I see we are sticking with the theme from our first convo?
THE BIG HAMMER: Yup. Gotta be consistent.
BROADWAY BABY: If you were really worried about being consistent, you wouldn’t have waited more than a week to text me again.
THE BIG HAMMER: Sorry. I had to travel for work and I’m the dumbass who forgot to grab his phone before he left *facepalm emoji*
BROADWAY BABY: Your bad luck must have followed you, seeing as you lost 2 of your 4 games.
THE BIG HAMMER: Can’t win them all.
THE BIG HAMMER: Wait.
THE BIG HAMMER: Hold up.
THE BIG HAMMER: You know who I am?
BROADWAY BABY: Yup.
THE BIG HAMMER: Did you figure it out on your own or did your girls rat me out?
BROADWAY BABY: I figured it out but they confirmed it.
THE BIG HAMMER: Okay then. So…when are you going to let me take you out on a date?
BROADWAY BABY: How about the 2nd of never?
THE BIG HAMMER: *sad face emoji* Oh come on, baby, don’t be like that.
BROADWAY BABY: **rolls eyes** Are we really back to the baby thing?
THE BIG HAMMER: You’ll like it. I promise.
BROADWAY BABY: I wouldn’t hold your breath.
BROADWAY BABY: Or maybe do. If you hold it long enough, I won’t have to worry about you harassing me any longer.
THE BIG HAMMER: 1st off: ouch, that’s harsh, baby. 2nd: My sister went to college on a swim scholarship, so I picked up a thing or two about lung stamina, and I’ll have you know, my stamina is REAL good.
BROADWAY BABY: Are you trying to get me to sext you?
THE BIG HAMMER: No, I was just stating a fact. When we sext, you’ll know. There won’t even be a question.
BROADWAY BABY: There will NEVER be a “when.”
THE BIG HAMMER: Never say never, baby.
BROADWAY BABY: You know, I want to say something about how cocky you are, but with your jockhole, playboy reputation, I’m really not all that surprised.
THE BIG HAMMER: Playboy reputation? I thought you said you knew who I was?
BROADWAY BABY: Oh I do, Jase Donnelly. That is why I should probably stop talking to you now. Nothing good can come from us keeping this line of communication open.
THE BIG HAMMER: Oh good, you DO know who I am. With you calling me a playboy, I was starting to think you had me confused with Tuck. Though the guy is one of my closest friends, he’s really the only one from the squad who could be considered a “playboy”, as you so eloquently put it.
BROADWAY BABY: Did you really just use the word eloquently?
THE BIG HAMMER: Yeah? So? Just because I’m a jock doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I’ll have you know I actually graduated from both high school and BTU with honors, thank you very much.
BROADWAY BABY: No. Sorry. That is not what I meant at all.
THE BIG HAMMER: It’s okay. I forgive you. And you can make up for both it and calling me a playboy by joining me for dinner sometime this week.
BROADWAY BABY: Not so fast there, buddy. I apologize for the unintentional dig at your intelligence, but the jury is still out on the whole playboy thing.
THE BIG HAMMER: You know, you have me questioning my entire public profile. I think I need to have a serious discussion with my other half about this.
BROADWAY BABY: Your other half? See what I mean? PLAYBOY!
THE BIG HAMMER: Take a chill pill, babe. I’m talking about my sister. Since we’re twins, I’ve always considered her my other half. We were wombmates, after all. But JD manages all my PR, so if it’s out there that I’m some playboy, I must have done something to piss her off and cause her to spread fake news about me.
BROADWAY BABY: That is actually a little bit adorable.
THE BIG HAMMER: That’s me, baby—adorable.
THE BIG HAMMER: *picture of Jase mugging it up for the camera*
BROADWAY BABY: Yeah, “adorable.” Still doesn’t change the fact that when you first asked me out, you had another woman sleeping at your apartment. It’s things like that that SCREAM playboy.
BROADWAY BABY: You’ve gone suspiciously quiet over there.
THE BIG HAMMER: Sorry. I was just trying to figure out what you were talking about. Do you mean Skye?
BROADWAY BABY: She the gorgeous, tall redhead? Then yes.
THE BIG HAMMER: *GIF of Mike Tyson cracking up*
THE BIG HAMMER: Omg no. No, no, no. Gross. Skye is my sister’s BFFL, and she’s pretty much my adopted sister. So no, nope, no way.
THE BIG HAMMER: *picture of Jase wearing a t-shirt that says, “I may look like a potato now, but one day I’ll turn into fries and you’ll want me then.”*