Page 38 of Stroked Long
Sleep eclipses me, and I start to drift into slumber when my phone beeps at me. Startled and anxious, I shoot up, my sheets falling to my lap as I grab my phone.
As if my stomach is at the Olympic Gymnastic Trials, it somersaults with nerves as I read his text.
Bodi: All right. What about you?
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. He texted me back!I received a text from Bodi.
Will this feeling ever dissipate? Will I always get giddy inside whenever I see or hear his name? Probably. He’s unattainable, a shattered human I so desperately want to get to know on a more personal level, despite his need to keep his distance.
Calming my inner fangirl slash crush, I text him back, keeping it simple.
Ruby: Good, had some cookies and painted it up at the club with the kids.
I steer clear of talking about my mom. I don’t want to rub my good fortune in his face. I’m not quite sure how he feels talking about other people’s parents, and since he’s texting me for the first time, I don’t want my first text back to him to be about someone he lost too early in his life.
In no time, he texts me back and for once I realize, we are having a text conversation. Lame I know, but it’s the little things with this man. The little accomplishments, the little milestones, that are making this journey of getting to know him that much more enjoyable.
Bodi: What kind of cookies?
Inwardly I smile and turn toward my nightstand, getting in perfecttexting at nightposition.
Ruby: The kind of cookies you wouldn’t approve of.
Bodi: Indulge me.
Why am Ismiling like an idiot right now?
Ruby: Peanut butter cookies with chopped-up Butterfingers. They are my favorite. You have whey protein balls and I have these.
Bodi: Yours sound better.
Ruby: I’m not going to lie, they are. Are we still on for tomorrow?
We have plans to meet up about the foundation tomorrow night at Bodi’s place this time. Even though I believe Bodi had a good time at my small apartment, I’m almost positive he’s more relieved to be meeting at his condo. For one, it’s familiar to him; for another, there is more space and an actual living room, unlike my living/dining/bedroom space.
Bodi: Yeah. I’m making pizza. That okay?
Ruby: Pizza, I’m surprised you even know the word.
Bodi: It’s made with romaine lettuce as the crust, tofu for the meat, and tomato slices as the sauce. Really good.
Lettuce for crust? My entire body convulses from the mere thought of gluten-filled fluffy crust being replaced by water-saturated lettuce. I’m surprised he didn’t talk about using kale as well.
Not wanting to be rude about his gross pizza, I text back.
Ruby: That’s a different kind of pizza.
I make a mental note to eat before going to his place. Tofu, tomato slices, and lettuce will not do it for me.
Bodi: Would you eat it if I made it?
Thank God this conversation is through text message so he can’t see the cringe and disgust on my face.
Ruby: Of course. I love trying new things.
This is true, but I normally like my new things to have some sort of fat content in them.
Bodi: Do you really think I would make that kind of pizza?
