Whole Lot More

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Brynne strolled into the apartment somewhere around two in the morning, Lucky – her dog – twining himself around her legs as she walked in.  All the girls from work had decided to have a few drinks after work.

So not only was she dead tired, but she was halfway to being full-on drunk, but still insisted in sitting down at her desk and turning her computer on.

She just had to tell Julie about the guys at the bar, and not knowing if her friend was still awake or not, she
didn’t want to take the chance of waking her up by calling her.

The modem whirred to life as the computer completely booted up, and she was able to bring up her internet and buddy list, disappointed when she seen that no one of importance was online.

Deciding not to waster her tire mind anymore, she clicked off her buddy list, but not quickly enough.

MTJ: Can’t sleep?
FutureMrsTruexJr: You again.

Rubbing at her tired eyes, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to stay awake for another interesting conversation with “Martin”.

MTJ: Yep.
FutureMrsTruexJr: So, who are you today?  Kasey Kahne?  Jimmie Johnson?
MTJ: Nope, Martin.  Just Martin.

Brynne shook her head, definitely not believing him still.  Honestly, who would?  At least, without proper proof.

FutureMrsTruexJr: I still don’t believe you.
MTJ: That’s not my problem.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Whatever.

Her eyes closed tiredly, struggling to open them once again.  She yawned tiredly, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to handle much more of this before falling asleep at the computer.

MTJ: I’m curious, though.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Oh yeah?
MTJ: “FutureMrsTruexJr”, huh?

Brynne’s head dipped slightly at the thought of the origin of the screen name.  Anyone with half a brain knew what it meant.  Hell, people with no brain could figure it out.

FutureMrsTruexJr: I made it to piss someone off.
FutureMrsTruexJr: They hated Martin, so I made it and messaged them from it.
FutureMrsTruexJr: It pissed them off, good, too.

She waited a moment and frowned.

FutureMrsTruexJr: Why in the hell am I explaining and defending the creation of this screen name to you?
MTJ: You’re starting to warm up to me.  That’s why.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Yeah, in your dreams.
MTJ: Maybe. :P

The frown became more pronounced on her face.  The talk had turned to banter, dare she say almost flirting?  When had it changed from the arguing it’d originally started out as?  Dare she admit she might be warming up to this mystery man?

FutureMrsTruexJr: As much fun as I’m having... possibly, I’m tired and well on my way to drunk, and if I don’t go right now, I’ll probably fall asleep right here at the computer.
MTJ: Drunk sounds good right now.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Trust me, it is.  Gonna be nursing a hell of a hangover in the morning.
MTJ: Aspirin, lots of aspirin.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Thanks for the advice.
MTJ: Night, Future.

Brynne paused for a moment, wondering where exactly her mind was at the moment, because it certainly wasn’t thinking objectively.  She’d blame it on the alcohol.

FutureMrsTruexJr: Brynne.
MTJ: What?
FutureMrsTruexJr: The name is Brynne.
MTJ: Oh.
MTJ: Well then, night Brynne.
FutureMrsTruexJr: Bye... whoever you are tonight.

After she’d signed off, Martin sat smirking at the computer screen.  Now that she’d gotten on, and he’d talked to her, he let the weariness slip into his body.

He’d been waiting for her to get on.

And while she still didn’t believe him about who he was, he’d managed to get her name – as far as he knew, her real name - out of her, so she had to be beginning to trust him, at least a little.

Which was good, because she intrigued him.

*

Brynne’s eyes stared up at the ceiling.  No matter how tired she had been, the minute she dragged herself to her room it seemed as if sleep evaded her.

She couldn’t understand why she’d told him her name tonight.  She’d like to blame it on sleep deprivation, on the alcohol, but she highly doubted that was the real reason why.

There was something about him, about the mystery around who he really was, that made it that much better to her.  Mysteriousness did add a lot to things.

“Fuck,” she growled, running a hand through her tousled blonde hair, “Fuck...”

Why was this happening to her?

*