Well, that and my lady-killer grin.
The moment my feet hit the final platform, my team is beside me and helping me teardown and store my gear. We go through the closing process, piece by piece to ensure the area is secure and safe before everyone clocks out for the day. I head into the office to finish a little paperwork and send some emails, the part of the day I dread the most. I’d much rather be up on the mountain, with the wind in my face and nature all around me. This is the part of the job that gives me hives.
I notice right away today’s numbers are slightly down compared to yesterday, but that doesn’t faze me. It’s the middle of the week. You never know what the weekdays will bring. All I know is this weekend will be busier than hell. The weather looks absolutely perfect, with light winds and warm temperatures. Perfect for ziplining.
Jill, the office assistant, helps keep things in here going on a day-to-day basis, but it’s my job to finish. I sign off on a few orders and send them in to corporate, along with the final numbers for today. Just as I’m wrapping it up and logging out of my computer, my phone pings with a text.
I grab my phone, surprised by the disappointment that sweeps through me when I see my brother’s name. Not that I don’t want to talk to my brother, but I was a little hopeful it would be a certain wrong number texter.
Rueben: Cricket is working some event on Saturday night. Wanna grab a few drinks at Pork’s?
Me: Absolutely. He serves the best burgers.
Rueben: LOL! You’re always hungry. Meet you there at 8.
Me: Deal.
I shove my phone into my pocket and lock up the office. There are a few employees hanging around the back lot, so I throw them a wave and climb into my truck. As soon as I do, I retrieve my device once more and send the message I’ve been contemplating all day.
Me: As much as I like seeing Bestie listed amongst my contacts, how about a name to put with it?
I’m not sure if she’ll reply or if I’m blocked at this point. Maybe I’ll never speak to my mystery texter again, and she’ll never experience a real dick pic. Though, admittedly, I’ve only sent one in my life and it was when I was nineteen and dumb. I prefer my lady friends to experience my cock up close and personal.
As I start the truck, those familiar bubbles appear, making me grin.
Bestie: Like Tami with an I?
Me: Depends, is that your name?
Bestie: Oh, you wanted my name? You’re going to have to be more specific next time. You just said a name.
Me: You’re right, I did. But Tami with an I?
Bestie: You don’t think I could be a Tami with an I?
Me: I didn’t say that at all, but the last Tami with an I I knew was…friendly.
Bestie: So she was easy?
Me: Friendly. *insert winky face emoji*
Bestie: Same thing.
I bark out a laugh and back out of the parking spot. When I reach a stop light, I notice the screen light up again. Against my better judgment, I glance at the message.
Bestie: Maybe you need more classy names in your life like Margaret, Elizabeth, or Monica.
I snort as I glance up and see the light still red. My fingers fly across the screen.
Me: Dated a woman named Maggie a few times. She was a yoga instructor and dancer. Very bendy. *insert grinning devil emoji*
Bestie: *insert eyeroll gif* Of course you did! I probably don’t want to know what kind of dancer either.
I burst out laughing because she’s right. She probably doesn’t want to know.
A horn honks behind me, and I realize the light changed to green. I throw my phone on the passenger seat and finish my drive home, all while ignoring the phone that lights up and dings with each reply. The moment I pull into my driveway and park the truck, I reach for the device.
Bestie: No response?
Bestie: I must be right, you’re not replying.
Bestie: Though, I can’t say much for her flavor of dancing, but I can vouch for yoga. Amazing for flexibility and core strength. I go a couple of nights a week.
Now my vivid imagination is working overtime as I picture my faceless texter bending over and posing in all those crazy yoga positions. I’ve never tried them, but I enjoyed the hell out of watching Maggie give a naked demonstration.
Over my cock.
Which is now getting hard at the thought of Bestie doing her own demonstrations.
I grab my keys and type out a reply.
Me: Sorry, was being a responsible driver and not texting while driving.
Bestie: I’m proud of you, Rigsby. Texting while driving is bad.
I wave at my neighbor up the hill and slip inside my cabin. Fuck, I love this place. Mine’s not quite as big as my brother’s but I don’t need a lot of space. While his sports three bedrooms, I opted for a much smaller scale log cabin. My home is an open floor plan with a spiral staircase that leads to a huge loft with gaming tables I was able to pick up for a steal from a cabin resort that was looking to upgrade. It has a pool table, foosball table, an old Pac-Man arcade game, and a bar. I spend a decent amount of time upstairs, but not nearly as much as I thought I would.
Downstairs, you’ll find a large kitchen with eat-in dining room, living room with stone fireplace, bathroom, and a single bedroom. I bought it from an older couple, who was moving to an assisted-living community. They struggled with the winter snow and ice and didn’t feel safe traveling down the mountain any longer. I came along at the right time and took their little cabin off their hands.
Speaking of hands, I make a quick adjustment to the contact and fire off a message.
Me: Just got home.
Bestie Tami with an I: I’ll let you go get something to eat.
Me: Workout first, dinner second.
Bestie Tami with an I: Ewww, workout.
Me: That’s right, you’re a yoga girl.
Bestie Tami with an I: I am. *insert smiling face emoji*
Me: Later, Bestie Tami with an I!
Bestie Tami with an I: You’re weird. Goodbye.
I toss my phone on the kitchen counter and slip into my bedroom to change into running clothes. I should probably head to the gym tonight, but quickly nix that idea. It’s been a long day and the last thing I want to do is fight over who’s using the free weights next. Plus, Selena will most likely be there, and I’d rather not deal with her brand of crazy right now.
After changing into a pair of thin shorts, tank top, and my favorite running shoes, I head out to do a little stretching before my run. When my feet hit the pavement, I consider my options. Usually, I switch up my route every time, but tonight, I’m not sure I can. I’m being pulled in the direction of a certain blonde’s house. She wasn’t there when I dropped off the tequila earlier, and I might be a little hopeful she’ll be there tonight.
Probably stupid, but I’ve never been accused of being a smart man when it comes to the opposite sex.
I zigzag through the streets, my body already soaked with sweat as I approach the familiar street. My breathing is even as I stride toward the cute little house along the roadway. My eyes are searching without actually looking; it’s a technique I’ve perfected when out at the bar. A way to check out a woman without blatantly staring. I keep my pace steady, even though I’d like to slow down. I don’t want to pass it too quickly, but there’s really no reason for me to stop.
I’m not that guy.
Even if I did deliver a bottle of liquor to her doorstep earlier in the day.