“You don’t have to be like me. But what about sex?” Olivia demanded. “Surely you’re into that.”
It wasn’t that Harper lacked desire. But it wasn’t at the forefront of her mind all the time—at least not like it seemed to be at the forefront of Olivia’s. She talked about it like she thought about it ten times a day. “Fair point,” Harper said. “But there are tools to help with that if necessary.”
“First of all, TMI,” Olivia said, holding up one perfectly manicured finger. “And two, it’s not the same, Harper. It’s just not.”
It really wasn’t the same.
The phone suddenly pinged. This was a text that included a picture of a newspaper spread open to the ads section. Sweetie, Kohl’s is having an after Xmas sale starting tomorrow. Do you need some underwear or socks? 75% off. I’ll pick some up for you but need to know sizes. Don’t ignore me, Joe—you cannot beat these prices.
Harper and Olivia looked at the screen. Then at each other. And burst into howls of laughter.
“Does he have, like, an unhealthy attachment to his mother?” Olivia asked, gasping for air from laughing so hard. “Which is only okay because he is so cute. Anyway, I’m bored now that I’ve seen him. Let’s go out.”
“It’s Christmas night,” Harper complained. “Nothing is open.”
“You’d be surprised.” Olivia pulled out her phone and turned on the camera to check herself out.
Harper had no doubt that she would be surprised. She clicked the phone shut and got up to get ready.
* * *
The next morning, Harper was doing what felt like a month’s worth of laundry when the phone pinged. It was a text from Jonah.
Hope you had a great Christmas. Mine was pretty good until my cousin found that bottle of scotch he’d been saving for a special occasion. Wanted you to know that Oakwood Gynecology and Obstetrics thought it imperative to remind you at 6:15 this a.m. that you have an appointment on the 15th. Shall I press Y to confirm or N to reschedule?
Lord. Y to confirm, please.
Shall any emojis accompany this reply?
Ah, so he’d noticed her overreliance on emojis. Yes. Obviously the doctor emoji and the smiley face with the mask.
Obviously.
She smiled. This is great timing! Because you got a text from your mom. She is going to shop the sales at Kohl’s and would like to know what size underwear you need. Boxers or briefs? The last question had not come from his mother, but Harper had a burning curiosity.
The question was met with silence. Harper held her breath. Had she gone too far? Dammit, she’d gone too far. This was her problem—she never understood the rules of the game. Which annoyed her, as she really liked Jonah and she hadn’t meant to insult his mother and she really, really wanted to see his dog.
She began to type out a profuse apology, but a text suddenly pinged. Sorry—I died for about a minute and only the urgent need to tell you my mother does not buy my underwear brought me back to life.
Harper laughed.
This is so awkward, he texted. My mom can be a little out there. I told her I didn’t have my phone.
Harper turned on the dryer and leaned against it. I don’t think she got the message. She texted several times yesterday. Mostly with pictures of presents (you got a sweater) and food (she made your favorite cobbler).
Jonah sent an emoji of exasperation. Damn. I do love that cobbler. So I don’t know how to say this, especially since I don’t know you, but I really need you to understand that I am not as weird as my phone must make me seem. I swear I’m a normal kind of guy and really need us to be on the same page about that, so I submit exhibit A from your phone as a friendly reminder that we all have stuff. What followed was a picture Olivia had taken of her during a girls’ trip to New York a couple of years ago. Harper had awakened in borrowed, too small, onesie pajamas (she’d forgot to bring her own), and after tossing and turning in a bed as hard as a slab of marble, she’d had some serious bed head and mascara smeared under her eyes.
Harper burst out in laughter. Yes, everyone had stuff. That is so unfair, she texted. At least you can blame your stuff on your mom.
Are we even?
Harper was still grinning. We are even. Still, I think you should let your mother know your underwear needs. It seemed really important to her.
A laughing emoji. Moms, amiright? Let me know if she sends anything else and in the meantime, I’ll give her a call and REMIND her that I don’t have my phone. Boxer briefs, BTW. Smiley face.
That made her blush. Yessir, Harper was definitely looking forward to meeting this guy.
She put the phone down and carried on with the laundry until the phone pinged again. She had to laugh—this was a text from “Dad” in Jonah’s contacts list. Cowboys play Philadelphia Monday Night Football. You coming? She forwarded the text to Jonah.
Oh my GOD, he texted back, along with an exploding head emoji. Do they listen to anything I say?
And so it continued.
When someone named Caden texted him about girlfriend troubles, she forwarded that, too, with her own take. I’m no expert, but I have to say that if a guy gave me a fishing rod for Christmas, I would not be happy. Not gonna lie.
He texted back, AGREED.
He texted her with news about a New Year’s Eve party from Allison Mitchell, an acquaintance of hers. Harper asked him: Can you text her and tell her I can’t make it with a suitable sad face emoji? Not the teardrop one, just the usual frown. We’re not that good of friends, lol.
He texted her a range of sad faces to choose from, and after some discussion, they jointly agreed just a regular down-turned smile was the right one for the occasion.
Harper’s parents left for their cruise midweek and told her to be sure and leave the envelope on the kitchen bar for the cat sitter. Harper decided it was time to go back to Austin. She was packing up to leave the next morning when she got a text from Jonah. I’m heading back to town tomorrow to get my new socks and underwear. Can’t wait. When are you back?
In the morning, she texted. What part of town do you live in? Maybe we could meet for a drink and exchange phones. She hit Send before she could talk herself out of the invitation. She’d enjoyed this banter between them, and she really did want to meet the dog, but he probably did have a girlfriend or a wife and she held her breath, already kicking herself for asking and making it sound like a date. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even realized she had so much riding on this, but she felt stupid and hopeful and . . .
I’m in Crestview. What about you?
She squealed softly with delight. The Triangle.
Got it. Hope this doesn’t come across as show-offy, but how about the Dive Bar and Lounge on Guadalupe? First Lone Star beer (happy hour, 99c) is on me!