My text messages pinged again. I scrolled the cursor over and clicked on the message.
WASH: I waited in the rain for your response, Maddy.
WASH: Now I want a solo date.
I cracked my knuckles, pressed all caps, and typed onto my laptop.
ME: ALREADY FAKE DATING YOU, BRUH
ME: Hope you’re in the house now. It’s pouring!
WASH: Yep. In the house. Alone. Challenge me. Whatever you want. I follow through. We do a genuine date, a.k.a. Just us. For the record, we’re REAL dating but with too many people.
A foolish grin had formed on my face. “Real-ish, whatever. But I do like a challenge.”
I typed,Grow a rat tail, then deleted that. He wouldn’t. Presentation mattered.
ME: Grow a ducktail. Can you do that with your follicular-ly challenged self??
WASH: Follicular what? A hyphen doesn’t make that word legit. But it’s gonna take months.
The little dots were already active. Big Head’s argument was still in progress.
WASH: The second we see fuzz, we do dinner and a movie.
I chortled. Fuzz? Like a little new growth was supposed to persuade me—assuming that his head could manage even that. After laughing for a full sixty seconds at the thought of him resembling a colicky newborn with one sad wisp of hair, I typed back:
NOPE.
The second I pressed send those text message dots went to work. The boy was skilled at constructing arguments.
WASH: At .00001 of an inch, we take a dinner cruise?
It was tricky to do a thumbs down on my MacBook, so I set it aside and picked up my iPhone.
WASH: At .01 of an inch …
As I chuckled, I called him before my brain got the memo.
His voice was low, desirable, and he must’ve been ready for bed. He must’ve skipped his neat freak evening regimen.
I pushed down a lump in my throat and said, “Cup of coffee first, real date. Second date, once your ducktail is at .01 of an inch, whatever that is, we can do a movie. But it depends on what’s at the theater in 2077. If there’s nothing good, then we’ll hit up Popeyes. Third date,yousendmeon a cruise. I send you selfies of me dancing all night?”
“2077, Maddy? That’s how long you think it’s gonna take me to grow .01 of a silly-ass ducktail?”
I chuckled.
He groaned. “You better be glad I love the sound of your laugh because I may arrest you again.”
“For what? We both agreed it’s raining cats, dogs, and gators outside. But … if you want, Lynetta wants to geofence.”
“Geocaching? In the rain?”
“I presume it occurs outside?”
“Yep,” he replied. “How about I pick you up since the warden isn’t home to criticize us?”
“Us?” I snorted. “Speak for yourself, Your Honorable Holiness.”