Page 51 of Promise Me

Hey baby. U up?

I laugh and type out a reply.

A hookup text at ten-thirty in the morning? That’s pretty cheesy.

I’m in Vegas. I’ve lost all track of time. What are you doing?

Walking along Sunset. Checking out the shops. Maybe find a job.

Gonna buy yourself something sexy?

Ha. All I’ve got on me is my phone and ten dollars earmarked for Starbucks. If you consider an iced coffee sexy, then yes, I am.

Yep. Sexy.

I laugh again. You have a strange definition of sexy.

Three dots appear and linger on the screen. His response is tak

ing a little longer this time.

Are you going to hold it firmly in your hand? Put your lips over the tip of the straw and use suction until your mouth fills?

Suddenly the mid-morning sunshine on my face feels a little hotter, and I’m glad I have the sidewalk mostly to myself. A naughty impulse compels me to reply, I’m going to go slow. Make it last as long as possible. Savor every drop until it’s completely drained.

The three little dots appear again, and I’m practically holding my breath to see his response. Was I too smutty? Not smutty enough? I’m new to sexting.

Holy $#[email protected] I just had a long-distance…iced coffee.

Glad you enjoyed yourself. Pride makes me sassy.

I enjoy YOU. Looking forward to Saturday.

Me too. Have fun in Vegas.

I’d rather have fun with you. Later Kendall. He ends with an iced coffee emoji.

I slip my phone into my pocket and peek into a clothing boutique. The reflection staring back at me catches me off guard. The girl in the glass wears a secret smile.

The Vaughn effect. They ought to create an emoji for that.

But he’s done more than just put a smile on my face. He helped me confront a huge obstacle keeping me in my untenable limbo.

Me.

Mason didn’t push my heart into a holding cell and hide the key. He couldn’t do it even if he was the kind of guy who would want to—which he isn’t—because I’m in charge of my heart. It’s mine to give, and it finally dawned on me that I can give it many times, in many ways. Love’s not a finite thing. I don’t have to retrieve what I’ve given, or give back what I’ve taken, in order to move on. I just have to be ready to give again. There’s freedom in that realization, and I close my eyes to absorb the weightless sensation. I’d hoped to get unstuck this summer and am grateful for the assist.

Who knew the guy hanging in Times Square would become my friend-slash-unknowing therapist? Not this girl. And now he’s poised to become more.

One step…one deep breath…

My stomach hears my thoughts and rumbles to remind me I want a pastry with my coffee, so I pick up my pace again. I sniff the air and can practically smell the blueberry muffin I’ve been craving almost as much as I crave Vaughn. Gah. I can’t even think about food without Mr. Tall, Charming, and Sexy intruding.

The stores transition from retail to business offices as I continue my walk, and when I pass signage for an attorney, I’m hit with a stab of nostalgia. As much as I dread law school, I do miss my law firm internship. Not the legal aspects, so much, but I miss being busy with work and hanging out with the other interns.

Distracted by the recollection, I turn the corner and bump right into someone. Oomph.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say to the woman whom I’ve literally knocked off her feet. She was already kneeling, so she didn’t have far to go. By the time I crouch down she’s already back on her haunches, so I help pick up the flyers strewn all over the ground. “Are you okay?”