Goals

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Goals, man. I've only seen the lighthouse tonight ... sorry for the delay, life etc. and oh... goals!!! No other word. Eggers is a genius. And you. You know. You. — K.

He reads the screen and maybe he deleted her number after their encounter so many months ago. Or maybe she got a new one. But he knows who this one comes from. The screen has her words and abuse of dots all over it.

Thank you. I understand, I really want to watch Seberg, have yet to. Also, are you straight? — R.

It takes minutes for the screen to light up with her reply, he's been texting someone else, someone who's bubbly and always happy to see him. He's texting to let the bubbly one know he's back in LA and out of town. But that he misses her and will call her as soon as he's back to London.

He didn't add the last part to the message and thinks that maybe he should have. He lets it go and goes to read the incoming text.

It took me a while to realize you were asking about my inebriation state. Yes, you asshole. In that sense I'm straight. — K.

The message doesn't spell fuck you but he reads it there anyway. He's blushing deep shades of red as he types, fast.

Fuck, I'm sorry. I meant to ask if you were high, you weote as you used to talk when we... I mean. Sorry. — R.

He sends and only then sees the typo there.

Wrote*. Shit, I'm so embarrassed. — R.

Her reply doesn't take minutes this time around, but seconds.

Don't be embarrassed, it's just a minor typo. ;P — K.

You know what I mean. I didn't think before sending the first one. Can you come over? I'm home. — R.

He doesn't know what gets to him to finish the last text like that. They haven't seen each other since he was there last, since their... reunion. His other relationship is not exclusive and he has no idea where the status of hers is. She might be married by now for all he knows.

He looks at the nightstand digital clock and when it changes from 9:24pm to 9:25pm he receives her message.

I know. It's so you. To talk or type and not think until after it's out there. But I love you for that, you know. And no, I can't go. I have friends over tonight. — K.

She loves me for that, he thinks. What else does she love him for?

He's thinking about it as he showers and gets ready for bed. It's still early but he's jet legged and can really use some early rest.

He hears his phone and opens just one eye to read the message. Of course that doesn't work and he lazily opens both.

But I can stop by tomorrow. — K.

Please do. Is what he types to reply, before sinking his head heavily on the pillows.

His last thought as he dozes off to dream land is how he completely forgot about the bubbly one.

I'll message her tomorrow. It's what he thinks but as it turn out, he forgets again.

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A/N: Here we go again. I see a picture of one of them and start typing silly stories. This one I don't know how long or how many will take. It's about their late night messages to each other. If I'm real life they don't send these, it'd be their loss. Because they definitely should.

I have others in mind and will update as they go. So click that adding button if you want to see more.

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