I Wanna Text You Up (Page 2)
“Do you think we really need to include all that?”
She shrugs. “Probably not. It does make you sound a bit crazy.”
“I feel like I need to make a list. Let me grab my notebook.”
I push myself off the couch and make my way down the hall to my bedroom, pausing in front of Delia’s nearly empty one. There are only six boxes and her bed left. Other than that, it’s bare.
There’s a twinge in my heart, and I can feel the tears beginning to form. I try to quickly blink them away. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry, dammit!
“She’s going to miss you, you know.”
I jump at the sudden sound and turn to glare at the intruder. “You’re a damn ninja, Zach.”
He grins. “Sorry.” He clearly isn’t. “I just wanted you to know that. I feel like I should apologize or feel bad about stealing her away, but I can’t.”
I pat his shoulder. “And you shouldn’t. You two are great together. You deserve this happiness. I’m just annoyed you’re stealing my woman. You swooped right in and BAM! Now she’s leaving me.”
“She’ll still come around. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You make it sound like you’re going to have to pry her from your side. I don’t think you’re that great, Zach.”
One brow shoots up. “Oh, I beg to differ.”
I laugh and push past him. “I’m glad to see your ego is still intact,” I say over my shoulder before turning into my bedroom.
“Hey, I’m just stating the obvious.”
I shake my head and grab my worn notebook off my bed before heading back to the living room. I take this thing with me everywhere, and it’s evident in the way the cover is beginning to fall off the spiral binding. Maybe it’s time I replace it.
I’m a strange breed of people when it comes to notebooks. I use every square inch on a page. Doodles, notes, lists, random reading assignments—it all goes in my book.
“Your boyfriend is so arrogant,” I tell Delia, reclaiming my spot next to her then flipping open my notebook and trying to find a blank space to write on.
“Isn’t he though? It’s kind of exhausting at times.”
“Okay, a lot. He wears me out, but I totally love it.” She sighs again, all wistful-like. “Anyway, let’s order that pizza now. I’m starving.”
“Is Zach staying for dinner?”
“Oh hell no. I’m not sharing with him. He may call me a food whore all the time, but he’s just as bad. He’ll scarf the whole thing down before I even get a slice in.”
“What a pig.”
“I heard that!” Zach says as he makes his way back into the apartment. “I have about two more trips to make and then I’ll be out of your hair, ladies. You two can order pizza and gossip and naked pillow fight—you know, the usual things girls do.”
I glance to Delia. “He still thinks we naked pillow fight?”
“He won’t let it go. He’s going to be so disappointed that the only thing we plan to do is scrub this makeup off, ditch the bras, and put on some yoga pants.”
“He says you had him at no bras.” Zach waggles his brows up and down.
Delia throws another pillow at him and he laughs, taking off to finish up.
He makes three more trips, gives his girl a kiss goodbye, and leaves us to commemorate our last night as roommates.
“Pizza is ordered,” I say as Delia trudges back into the living room, her blanket and pillow in hand.
“Fort?” she suggests.
“Like you even had to ask.”
We get to work on building a small fort between the couch, coffee table, TV stand, and borrowed stools from the bar in the kitchen.
Once we have everything set up, we snuggle down into our blankets and pull up Parenthood, the show we’ve been binge-watching for weeks now. I’m sad because we still have an entire season to go and she’s moving out.
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving this brand new couch behind for me.”
“That was all on Zach. He’s the one who insisted on buying it when Marshmallow chewed one of the cushions, not me. I told him we could just flip it around and not be bothered by it. I have no problems parting with it, and besides, it’s not like we’ll need it. He does have a fully furnished home, ya know.”
She isn’t wrong there, and it was his goat that chewed up my couch.
“Yeah, yeah, I know—you’re moving in with a rich boy who has his shit together.”
“He isn’t a rich boy,” she says defensively. I pin her with a stare. “Okay, he has money, but he isn’t a ‘rich boy’. That sounds so…dickish.”
“Fair enough. Zach isn’t a rich boy. He’s just…well kept.”
Delia snorts out a laugh. “We’ll go with that. Pull your laptop over here. Let’s get started on that flyer.” I push the computer her way. She props it up on her knees, cracking her knuckles and hovering her fingers over the keyboard. “Now, what’s the first thing you’re looking for in your new roomie?”
“Hmm… Long brown hair. Snarky. Preferably named Delia.”
“Such a drama bomb. What are you really looking for?”
“I want someone who’s going to clean up after themselves. Someone who isn’t into parties but is okay with overnight guests…if you catch my drift.”
“Obviously. Ladies only?”
“Nah. Chicks or dicks welcome.”
Delia chuckles. “That is so going on the flyer.” She begins typing. “Wait, why aren’t we going digital with this? Putting it up on Craigslist or something? You’ll reach more potential candidates that way.”
I shake my head. “There’s something more personal about a flyer, gives it that human touch.”
“What? You don’t think it’ll be effective?”
“I just find it hard to believe people pay that much attention to bulletin boards anymore.”
“Just trust me on this. I’ll find someone, and it’ll be just the right someone. Now, let’s start with this…”
Chicks or dicks welcome!
Looking for a new roomie? I have a place for you! Like your music loud? I own headphones. Enjoy having late-night guests over? Again, headphones. 😉 Want someone to help pay the bills? Do the dishes? Take out the trash? You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours (metaphorically, of course).
Check us out, getting along already.
Must be able to pay first and last month’s rent up front.
Must be okay with Breakfast & Beats.
No trying to sleep with me.
Two bedrooms. One bathroom.
$350/month plus electricity.
If interested, email [email protected]
P.S. Dick pics sent directly to my grandmother. Don’t do that shit to her.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: I saw your flyer…
I’m going to assume, based on your email, you’d like to be addressed as Batman. I’m sort of a comic nerd, so please excuse me if I’m wrong.
Anyway, I saw your flyer on the bulletin board on campus and have a few questions before we seal this deal.
1. What’s wrong with the apartment? Is it the location? The condition? That’s awfully cheap for the area.
2. You said no dogs—is that no pets or just no dogs?
3. What does the electricity bill typically run?
4. Do you have a move-in date available?
This isn’t a question, but I wanted to say you’re welcome for not including a dick pic.
Thank you for your time,
Mr. Edward Nigma
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: You got lucky
I have to say that including a picture of a COCK and not a DICK…well, that one made me laugh. You earned your reply.
1. Nothing is wrong with the apartment and it’s in a nice area. Rent is inexpensive because my parents love me and won’t let me work long hours during school. They pay a good portion of the rent.
2. Dogs specifically. I’m not a fan. I’m a cat person. I only recently found out we can have pets and thought I’d include that for when you sign the lease. You know, covering my ass and all that.
3. The electric bill typically runs about $50.
4. The apartment is available immediately, but I would like to take the time to get to know you first before you move in. Possibly two weeks from now? That’s not too much to ask, right?
Now that we got that out of the way, tell me about yourself, Edward. Make me want to have you as a roommate.
The Non-Bruciest of all Bruce Waynes
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Oh, you want me.
Not to sound like a walking cliché, but I’m kind of the ideal roommate. I work and have other obligations, so I don’t spend a tremendous amount of time at home. You’ll probably be on your own often. I don’t party, hardly ever have guests over, and I’m a neat freak. In fact, you’ll be so bummed I’ve moved out when it comes time for me to get a big boy job and leave you behind that you won’t know what to do with yourself.