But whatever defensive measures I might have been putting up to try and protect myself, Malcolm was able to knock them back down again with the greatest of ease. I was falling dangerously for this man, and I knew it, and I had no serious desire to try and stop myself.
And then one day came the text that would change everything, completely out of the blue- courtesy, strangely enough, of the National Institute for Public Health and the Environment (RIVM) in the Netherlands.
The first thing he sent me that sunny Sunday afternoon was a link to a news website. Before I could open it, Malcolm sent another, very bizarre, message:
“secksbuddy- I think I just found my new favorite word ever!” Followed by a trio of laugh emojis.
I didn’t have a clue what to make of this, but felt a strange mixture of nerves and excitement as I clicked on the link he sent me.
Things very quickly began to make sense.
It was an article about how the Dutch had been dealing with the coronavirus, and how its citizens were beginning to get frisky and annoyed about being unable to hook up with people during lockdown. The RIVM, the aforementioned government agency, was recommending that single people should make arrangements with a single “secksbuddy” (helpfully translated “sex buddy” in the article) with whom they could meet up throughout the course of the pandemic, in order to limit their potential exposure to the virus.
My heart rate quickened as I read.
Why was he sending me this?
Admittedly, the word “secksbuddy” was the kind of thing we both found hilarious for whatever reason, and we’d gotten in the habit of sharing links to any goofy pandemic stories we could find with each other over the course of our burgeoning- friendship? Relationship? Whatever the hell it was…
Somehow, though, this felt different to me. Maybe it was just me seeing what I wanted to see, but it felt like a test, like he was trying to innocuously send me an article like this to see how I felt about the idea. And then if it turned out I didn’t like the idea, he could walk it back easily enough, and pretend as though he’d never actually meant anything by sending it to me.
Did that make sense? Or was I going completely boy-crazy at this point?
All I could really say for sure is that it was crucial I try to be as tactful as he was in my response, and not risk exposing my true feelings for him.
“LOL that is completely amazing! So glad they translated it for us in the article,” I wrote, and sent along with a trio of laughter emojis. My heart was thumping in my chest, and to this day I have no idea what came over me next. I just started typing, scarcely even registering the words even as they came out.
And then I did the unthinkable- I sent the message straight to him, without even reading it back to myself first.
Instantly I froze.
“Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no!” I panicked. “What did I just do?!”
I stared in horror at my message, glowing back at me from the screen:
“Hey maybe we should try something like that.”
“Why did I write that?!” I shrieked. “Why the hell did I send it?!”
I nearly dropped my phone onto the floor trying to figure out if there was a way I could delete what I’d written after sending it. I knew, of course, that there wasn’t, having helped design the Goldfinch messaging system from the ground up.
Note to self: add ability to delete stupid thirsty messages you send without meaning to future updates of Goldfinch messaging app.
Those moments of utter terror I sat waiting for a reply were some of the longest and most agonizing I’d ever experienced before in my life. I was already composing my excuse, my explanation for saying what I’d said, when finally Malcolm’s reply came, either to sentence me to death, or else announce that my life had been spared.
“Why, Miss Rhoades, I am shocked and astonished! I think we might have to have a conversation with H.R. about this…” He followed this up with one of those smirky grins, suggestive-looking smileys, and I breathed a sigh of relief at this. Whether or not he thought the idea was ridiculous, he was at least a good sport about it, and appeared to take it with a playful spirit.
I quickly tried to salvage the situation, texting as fast as my fingers would go.
“Ugh, I hit send before I meant to x_x That isn’t what I meant… I just meant, like, hanging out or something. Like, since we’re both kind of stuck on our own for the foreseeable future. Wasn’t trying to be weird about it.”
I actually hated myself even more this time for suggesting that my interest in him was only platonic, but it still felt less thirsty than outright confessing that I wanted to sleep with him…
Finally he diffused the situation with his next text, and I breathed a desperate sigh of relief.
“Haha, just FYI, you don’t have to worry about being weird with me. Weird people are my favorite ;) Seriously though, that sounds like a lot of fun. I could use a change in my routine, and it seems like you could to. I really enjoy chatting with you Annalise :)”
A true gentleman, if ever there was one.
I beamed at my phone, having been subjected to a complete emotional rollercoaster over the span of a few short minutes. I was really going to have to try and figure out how this man had such an effect on me, because he made my thoughts race unlike anyone I’d ever met before.
“I like talking to you too :)” I wrote back happily.
“Haha that’s good to know :)” he wrote back. “Well, how about you stop by my place tonight if you’re free? We can have dinner, or a couple of drinks, or do whatever you want. Watch a movie maybe? IDK”
I smiled at the screen for a minute, feeling victorious, not to mention seriously excited for the evening that now lay ahead. And that was when inspiration struck me.
“OMG! You know what we should do? We should totally watch that Lord of the Lions show everyone’s been going on about throughout those whole freaking pandemic!”
“Bahahaha you mean the one with the gay redneck dude with the mullet, who runs the illegal zoo or whatever?”
“YES!!!” I wrote in all caps. “It looks so dumb but like I’ve been dying to watch it with someone else since it came out!”
“Honestly? That sounds completely fantastic,” he wrote back, and I grinned.
“I thought it would,” I proudly wrote.
“Want to swing by my place around 7:30 or 8? I’ll send you the address.”
“Heck yes! We are TOTALLY doing this,” I wrote.
And already my mind was racing to what I would wear, to what I was almost certain would be much more than just a simple TV date with a friend…
_____
I’m not especially religious or anything, but one story that’s always stuck with me from my Sunday school days is the Tower of Babel, when humans tried to build a giant castle up to heaven, and God said “Nope, nuh-uh, you ain’t doin’ that,” and cursed us all to speak in different languages.
I was vaguely reminded of this story as I took the elevator up through Malcolm’s building, riding through floor after floor to his penthouse at the top of a skyscraper.
I shifted my weight nervously back and forth from foot to foot, and fiddled with my hair as my stomach plunged along with my ascent. I’d driven myself crazy trying to decide what to wear. I had the perfect little black dress that I would have loved to slip into (and to have him slip me out of,) but I was concerned that this might come across as more trashy than classy. Instead I settled on a cute pink off shoulder blouse, flirty but not overly revealing, coupled with a pair of cutoff jeans that I hoped would drive him crazy.