There’s a line of gift emojis following this, so I can safely rule out a few non-gift things that could fall under the surprise category, like bringing along his mother for me to meet (that was a few dates ago) or a text poem (the last guy).
My favorite line, which will forever be burnt into my memory is this:Summer nights, gentle breeze, being with you makes me weak in the knees.
More like it was blazing hot with no breeze while we played mini golf, but who’s counting? We did bend our knees a lot. Those putters were short.
I let him down gently and never heard from him again. I’m thinking he got some bad advice about winning me over with poetry and took it as a life lesson. At least, that’s what I hope.
Mr. Emoji: Can I come by in a bit?
I quickly put detergent in the slot and start the machine before tucking my phone away and making a run up the stairs back to our apartment. Maybe I need to start jogging with Kambryn. I am totally out of breath when I reach the top floor, and I’m going to hide all Kambryn’s favorite shoes for giving out our address to the most enthusiastic man I’ve not met in person.
I shout for her as soon as I’m inside. “Kambryn!”
She’s waist-deep in the fridge, cleaning it out, and whacks her head on a shelf. Justice comes swiftly in the Barnes household.
“What?”
“Did you give Mr. Emo—I mean Trey our address?”
“Did you just call him Mr. Emo? He wears pink polos and uses tanning beds. He’s like the opposite of emo. And no, I would never give out our address.”
“Okay, good. Then how do I tell him he can’t come by in a bit because I’m not giving it out?”
She comes over and takes the phone from me, laughing when she sees Mr. Emoji as the contact name. When she swipes up to see the rest of his messages, her eyes widen. “He’s been busy.”
“Yeah. Should I be concerned?”
“No. He talks my ear off at the gym. I think you’re good.” But she keeps scrolling up and up, her forehead wrinkling.
Right then, my phone pings. It’s a new message from him, and she scrolls all the way back down.
Mr. Emoji: On my way. I hope you’re home.
Kambryn and I grasp each other in a silent freakout.
“What do I do?” I whisper. We’re both watching the phone to see if he sends anything more. In my head, I’m categorizing possible weapons. I have a baseball bat under my bed, and I carry pepper spray in my purse. Spraying my date in the eyes would be a new low.
“I’m going for my bat,” I tell her.
“No, Rosie. We’re not choosing violence today. The guy’s bringing you a gift. Or maybe eight gifts if the emojis are any indication.”
“Not funny right now.”
“Okay, wait. Wait.” She holds onto my arm as if I’m normally a violent person and she needs to restrain me. “What if Gavin gave him our address? He mentioned last night that he ran into Trey at Subway and they bonded over their love of the Protein Pockets. Your name probably came up. I don’t know why itwouldn’t.”
“How sure are you?”
“Not super sure. Half the time Gavin says I live in Desert Oasis instead of Desert Vista. I’ve corrected him a bunch. But he could drive here in his sleep.”
I take my phone back and just text Trey. This is getting ridiculous.
Rosalie: How do you know where I live?
Mr. Emoji: It’s a funny story. I’ll call you.
He calls seconds later, and much to Kambryn’s disappointment, I head outside and walk out of earshot. I need a clear head and no interference.
“Hi, Trey.”