really shouldn’t be surprised. She probably hasn’t touched a carb in eight years.
I checked my phone obsessively throughout the day, but there was still no response from Phoenix. I feel slightly wounded, though I try to brush it off. Maybe he’s not into me nearly as much as I am with him. I mean, it’s not like I’m dating the guy or anything. Instead of dwelling in disappointment, I power up my laptop to check my email.
At the very top of my inbox, there is a message from James Horesji’s personal assistant with a few flight options for my upcoming interview. It’s surreal how fast everything is happening. I email her back and ask her to book my flight for Tuesday, the first available option next week. Anything to get me out of Chicago sooner rather than later. I go through and start deleting junk mail and nearly trash a message from P. Wolfe. It’s the subject line that grabs my attention.
“The stars shine brighter when I’m with you.”
My insides swell ever so slightly and I open the email, hoping that it’s from who I think it’s from.
At risk of sounding resoundingly pathetic, I miss you. I miss you so much that I want to write “I miss you” on a rock and throw it at your face so you know just how much it hurts to miss you. But then, if I were that close I would have every reason in the world to kiss you and make you feel better.
If missing you this much is wrong, I don’t want to be right. Please tell me you want to throw rocks at my face too?
Phoenix
He misses me!
I breathe a sigh of relief and thank the maker I’m not the only sap still dreaming of two nights ago. I read his email over and over, my smile growing bigger each time. Laughing under my breath, I open up a blank email and craft an equally smart-ass response.
Rock throwing aside, I really miss you, too…but probably not as much as you miss me. After all, I am pretty awesome. ;)
Ivy
P.S. How’d you get my email?
Feeling fifty pounds lighter, I float off my bed and traipse into the bathroom. I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth when I hear my phone ringing from the other room.
“Huwwo?” I muffle into the phone over the sound of my faucet.
“Uh, Ivy?” a male voice asks hesitantly. “It’s Phoenix.”
Oh, shit. I quickly spit the toothpaste from my mouth and shut the water off in what is arguably my classiest move to date.
“Hey! Sorry, I thought you were Rachel.” I try to control my emotions so I don’t come off as overeager. It’s a good thing he can only hear me and not see the ridiculous grin on my face.
“I’m so sorry,” he croons into the phone, “but my phone battery died earlier, so I didn’t get your text messages until a little bit ago. I rarely use this thing. I’ll try and do a better job of keeping it juiced up. Is this a bad time?”
“No, I was just getting ready for bed. How was your day?”
“Long. I spent most of the day working on some blueprints from home and dealing with an overdramatic Sully on the side. Yours?”
I know firsthand how draining it can be dealing with other people. Dealing with Genevieve was a full-time job growing up. Hell, we’re not even close anymore and it’s still a full-time job.
“Sounds better than mine. Bridezilla towed me all around Chicago obsessing over mundane details.” I yawn and lie back into the cloud of pillows on my bed. “Did you know that you can have monograms hand painted on rose petals in gold leaf? Or that you can have a cake built into three-dimensional shapes?” The absurdity of Genevieve’s wedding decisions knows no bounds.
Phoenix chuckles softly in my ear. “All in a day’s work, maid of honor.”
He’s such a good sport letting me unload. Normally I hate talking on the phone, but there’s an ease with Phoenix on the other end of the line. My guard is down and I willingly offer up all more information than what is socially acceptable.
“Seriously, though. How’d you get my email?”
“Well
I checked my phone obsessively throughout the day, but there was still no response from Phoenix. I feel slightly wounded, though I try to brush it off. Maybe he’s not into me nearly as much as I am with him. I mean, it’s not like I’m dating the guy or anything. Instead of dwelling in disappointment, I power up my laptop to check my email.
At the very top of my inbox, there is a message from James Horesji’s personal assistant with a few flight options for my upcoming interview. It’s surreal how fast everything is happening. I email her back and ask her to book my flight for Tuesday, the first available option next week. Anything to get me out of Chicago sooner rather than later. I go through and start deleting junk mail and nearly trash a message from P. Wolfe. It’s the subject line that grabs my attention.
“The stars shine brighter when I’m with you.”
My insides swell ever so slightly and I open the email, hoping that it’s from who I think it’s from.
At risk of sounding resoundingly pathetic, I miss you. I miss you so much that I want to write “I miss you” on a rock and throw it at your face so you know just how much it hurts to miss you. But then, if I were that close I would have every reason in the world to kiss you and make you feel better.
If missing you this much is wrong, I don’t want to be right. Please tell me you want to throw rocks at my face too?
Phoenix
He misses me!
I breathe a sigh of relief and thank the maker I’m not the only sap still dreaming of two nights ago. I read his email over and over, my smile growing bigger each time. Laughing under my breath, I open up a blank email and craft an equally smart-ass response.
Rock throwing aside, I really miss you, too…but probably not as much as you miss me. After all, I am pretty awesome. ;)
Ivy
P.S. How’d you get my email?
Feeling fifty pounds lighter, I float off my bed and traipse into the bathroom. I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth when I hear my phone ringing from the other room.
“Huwwo?” I muffle into the phone over the sound of my faucet.
“Uh, Ivy?” a male voice asks hesitantly. “It’s Phoenix.”
Oh, shit. I quickly spit the toothpaste from my mouth and shut the water off in what is arguably my classiest move to date.
“Hey! Sorry, I thought you were Rachel.” I try to control my emotions so I don’t come off as overeager. It’s a good thing he can only hear me and not see the ridiculous grin on my face.
“I’m so sorry,” he croons into the phone, “but my phone battery died earlier, so I didn’t get your text messages until a little bit ago. I rarely use this thing. I’ll try and do a better job of keeping it juiced up. Is this a bad time?”
“No, I was just getting ready for bed. How was your day?”
“Long. I spent most of the day working on some blueprints from home and dealing with an overdramatic Sully on the side. Yours?”
I know firsthand how draining it can be dealing with other people. Dealing with Genevieve was a full-time job growing up. Hell, we’re not even close anymore and it’s still a full-time job.
“Sounds better than mine. Bridezilla towed me all around Chicago obsessing over mundane details.” I yawn and lie back into the cloud of pillows on my bed. “Did you know that you can have monograms hand painted on rose petals in gold leaf? Or that you can have a cake built into three-dimensional shapes?” The absurdity of Genevieve’s wedding decisions knows no bounds.
Phoenix chuckles softly in my ear. “All in a day’s work, maid of honor.”
He’s such a good sport letting me unload. Normally I hate talking on the phone, but there’s an ease with Phoenix on the other end of the line. My guard is down and I willingly offer up all more information than what is socially acceptable.
“Seriously, though. How’d you get my email?”
“Well
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