otherwise known as Maybe!
God, my inner subconscious is such a snarky biotch sometimes.
Lena: So…mind telling me where all this is coming from?
Me: I’m sitting here on the subway watching this cute girl sext message with someone. I kind of saw them…on accident.
Sort of. I mean, the first message was definitely an accident, but the next four or so were more of an intentional eavesdrop. Those are minor details, obviously.
Lena: Adorable and a little voyeur? I swear to God, you are too much. I fucking love it.
Before I can respond, another text message pops onto the screen.
Lena: Stop eavesdropping on other people’s sext convos, and do it for yourself. You need to sext message Milo. Tonight.
The mention of his name makes me gasp and choke at the same time, and the sound comes out kind of like a bark. The man to the left looks at me, and his mouth turns down at the corners. Obviously, he was hoping to find a cute Yorkshire Terrier or the like, and instead found a virginal, odd girl.
I turn my back on him and go back to typing on my phone.
Me: WHAT? No.
Lena: You gotta be crazy if you want to get what you want in the end. And you want Milo. Scoot out onto that sexting limb and reach for him.
Me: OMG. You’re serious. YOU’RE SERIOUS???
Lena: Consider this Phase 2 in Maybe’s Seduction Plan.
Me: Phase 2? HAHA. I’m still trying to uncover my eyes in Phase 1.
Lena: Just trust me, okay?
Me: I wouldn’t know the first fucking thing to say.
Lena: Let me guess, he’s already told you he wants you to let him know how your interview goes today, right?
Me: How in the hell do you know that?
What the hell? Did she bug me before I left Bergdorf’s with her last week?
Lena: I’m telling you…I have a real sixth sense about these things. The man is into you, Maybe. He’s currently trying to fight it, but the proof is in the pudding. He wants to see you. Talk to you. And, after your sext conversation tonight, he’s going to want to bang you.
Me: Your confidence is terrifying.
Yeah, but you’re one-hundred-percent smiling like a loon right now, so what does that say about you?
I groan inwardly at my own ridiculousness.
Lena: Have I steered you wrong yet?
Me: Technically, no. But I’m chalking that up to luck more than anything.
Lena: You have no reason to doubt me.
Me: You do realize it’s not as simple as me just sexting him, right? To do that, I would have to know something ABOUT sexting. The closest I’ve ever come to dirty talk is the end of the year exam in sex ed.
Lena: LOL. Relax. You’re not going to start a sexting convo with him. You’re going to text him about your interview. And THEN, you’re going to segue it into the sexting.
I furrow my brow.
And she really thinks I’m capable of something like this?
Apparently, she’s lost her mind.
Me: How in the hell am I supposed to do that? Everything I’m coming up with revolves around, “Oh, so, by the way, would you care to engage in a little sexting with me?”
Lena: HA! Yeah, definitely don’t do that.
Me: See? I cannot be trusted to handle Phase 2. I’m completely incompetent.
Lena: Take a breath, girl. You can do this. You’re attracted to Milo, right?
I frown at my phone.
Me: Obviously, yes.
Lena: Then you’ve got the tools. When something you want to do to him comes to mind, just type it instead of keeping it to yourself. And, trust me on this, it does NOT take much.
The subway whines as it slows down at the next stop—my stop—and just before I can shoot Lena another message about how awful of an idea this is, a new text message comes through.
But it’s not from her.
Milo: I glanced at the clock and saw the time. I hope you’re not nervous about today, but if you are, just know you have no reason to be. You’re going to do great, kid.
God, it’s like his ears were burning or something.
My fingers hover over the keypad, tempted to tap out a reply, but I decide to wait.
I’ll text him after the interview.
And then maybe, just maybe, if I can find the damn nerve, I’ll put Phase 2 into action.
But right now, I need to focus.
Off the subway and up the stairs, I head toward my fate.
My first official interview with a publishing house.
Here’s to hoping Cassandra Cale actually likes me.
Milo
Time flows like hardened cement as I sit inside