honesty.
Adam Thomas: Er, sorry about that?
Jenna McArthur: Don’t be. It’s not your fault that I’m sitting here wondering if you’ve ever removed this garment from my best friend. Hey, I was wrong! This can get creepier.
She’d ended the message with a smiley, but Adam grimaced anyway. Was she upset? He didn’t think so, but it was so damn hard to read someone’s tone in writing. This is why normal people dated in person. Normal people who weren’t hiding their connection from ex-wives and professional colleagues.
Adam was still considering his reply when her next message popped up.
Jenna McArthur: Problem solved. I took off the dress.
Holy shit.
Well, that was one way to do it. Was she joking or serious? He honestly couldn’t tell.
Adam Thomas: So you’re sitting there in your underwear?
Jenna McArthur: What makes you think I’m wearing underwear?
Okay, she was definitely being flirty. She’d mentioned an empty wineglass, so maybe that was it. Or maybe the elusive aunt had given her another pep talk. Whatever the case, he couldn’t stop his brain from forming a vivid picture. Had she really taken off the dress? Was she sitting in bed like him, stripped down to nothing? Or was she parked at a desk in a home office still fully clad and laughing at her own joke?
Adam Thomas: So now we’re both in our underwear and I’m in bed. Didn’t we pledge not to end up here again?
Jenna McArthur: POIDH.
Adam Thomas: What?
Jenna McArthur: Clearly, you’re not hip to the cybersex lingo, Mr. Thomas.
Adam Thomas: Clearly, hip people don’t use words like hip and lingo.
Jenna McArthur: LOL! POIDH = Pics or It Didn’t Happen.
Adam laughed out loud. She was definitely flirting, no question about it. If he didn’t have written evidence, he might never have believed it. He thought about brushing off the request, but what the hell? Photos of average-looking thirty-something guys in boxer shorts weren’t exactly scandalous viral Internet content.
He clicked on Photo Booth, then fired off a couple shots. One turned out blurry, but one wasn’t a half-bad image of him sitting shirtless in blue plaid boxers with his reading glasses slightly askew. He clicked the button to attach the image, then waited.
Jenna McArthur: HOLY SHIT!!!!!
Adam frowned, not sure how to read that response. He didn’t have to wait long.
Jenna McArthur: Christ, I was kidding, but oh my God. How is it possible for someone to look that hot lounging in bed on a random Saturday night?
Adam smiled. At least she wasn’t annoyed, or worse, offended. He decided to push his luck.
Adam Thomas: Your turn.
Jenna McArthur: No way. I’m a woman. I know better than to send sexy photos to strange men on the Internet. Besides, I wasn’t kidding about wearing your ex-wife’s dress, but I was kidding about taking it off. Still wearing the damn thing. Does that weird you out?
He hesitated, sensing a distinct shift from flirtation to something much more serious. He went for honesty again.
Adam Thomas: You mean does it weird me out that you swap clothing with my ex-wife, or does it weird me out that you’re still fully dressed? Yes to the first question. No to the second.
Jenna McArthur: It’s a yellow silk sheath dress with an asymmetrical hemline and contrast stitching beneath the bust. Familiar?
Adam frowned. Was she asking if she was wearing a garment he’d ever removed from his ex? He wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not, but it definitely wasn’t flirtation. He could understand why the whole thing might feel odd to her. It wasn’t jealousy, precisely, but something else. It was one thing to know a partner had lovers before you. It was quite another to don her clothing.
Adam Thomas: I understood “yellow,” “dress,” and “bust.” Beyond that, you’ve lost me in the fashion nuances.
Jenna McArthur: You’d make a terrible cross-dresser.
Adam Thomas: I’ll mark that off my list of professional ambitions.
He stared at the
Adam Thomas: Er, sorry about that?
Jenna McArthur: Don’t be. It’s not your fault that I’m sitting here wondering if you’ve ever removed this garment from my best friend. Hey, I was wrong! This can get creepier.
She’d ended the message with a smiley, but Adam grimaced anyway. Was she upset? He didn’t think so, but it was so damn hard to read someone’s tone in writing. This is why normal people dated in person. Normal people who weren’t hiding their connection from ex-wives and professional colleagues.
Adam was still considering his reply when her next message popped up.
Jenna McArthur: Problem solved. I took off the dress.
Holy shit.
Well, that was one way to do it. Was she joking or serious? He honestly couldn’t tell.
Adam Thomas: So you’re sitting there in your underwear?
Jenna McArthur: What makes you think I’m wearing underwear?
Okay, she was definitely being flirty. She’d mentioned an empty wineglass, so maybe that was it. Or maybe the elusive aunt had given her another pep talk. Whatever the case, he couldn’t stop his brain from forming a vivid picture. Had she really taken off the dress? Was she sitting in bed like him, stripped down to nothing? Or was she parked at a desk in a home office still fully clad and laughing at her own joke?
Adam Thomas: So now we’re both in our underwear and I’m in bed. Didn’t we pledge not to end up here again?
Jenna McArthur: POIDH.
Adam Thomas: What?
Jenna McArthur: Clearly, you’re not hip to the cybersex lingo, Mr. Thomas.
Adam Thomas: Clearly, hip people don’t use words like hip and lingo.
Jenna McArthur: LOL! POIDH = Pics or It Didn’t Happen.
Adam laughed out loud. She was definitely flirting, no question about it. If he didn’t have written evidence, he might never have believed it. He thought about brushing off the request, but what the hell? Photos of average-looking thirty-something guys in boxer shorts weren’t exactly scandalous viral Internet content.
He clicked on Photo Booth, then fired off a couple shots. One turned out blurry, but one wasn’t a half-bad image of him sitting shirtless in blue plaid boxers with his reading glasses slightly askew. He clicked the button to attach the image, then waited.
Jenna McArthur: HOLY SHIT!!!!!
Adam frowned, not sure how to read that response. He didn’t have to wait long.
Jenna McArthur: Christ, I was kidding, but oh my God. How is it possible for someone to look that hot lounging in bed on a random Saturday night?
Adam smiled. At least she wasn’t annoyed, or worse, offended. He decided to push his luck.
Adam Thomas: Your turn.
Jenna McArthur: No way. I’m a woman. I know better than to send sexy photos to strange men on the Internet. Besides, I wasn’t kidding about wearing your ex-wife’s dress, but I was kidding about taking it off. Still wearing the damn thing. Does that weird you out?
He hesitated, sensing a distinct shift from flirtation to something much more serious. He went for honesty again.
Adam Thomas: You mean does it weird me out that you swap clothing with my ex-wife, or does it weird me out that you’re still fully dressed? Yes to the first question. No to the second.
Jenna McArthur: It’s a yellow silk sheath dress with an asymmetrical hemline and contrast stitching beneath the bust. Familiar?
Adam frowned. Was she asking if she was wearing a garment he’d ever removed from his ex? He wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not, but it definitely wasn’t flirtation. He could understand why the whole thing might feel odd to her. It wasn’t jealousy, precisely, but something else. It was one thing to know a partner had lovers before you. It was quite another to don her clothing.
Adam Thomas: I understood “yellow,” “dress,” and “bust.” Beyond that, you’ve lost me in the fashion nuances.
Jenna McArthur: You’d make a terrible cross-dresser.
Adam Thomas: I’ll mark that off my list of professional ambitions.
He stared at the
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