Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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It's Friday night and there's no text from Ben. I thought after my offer to answer any questions, I'd see a text from him the same day, yet here we are. Why didn't I say 'text me'. I've never been the one to text a guy first after a date, but seeing that this was not a date and it didn't seem like Ben was going to follow my hints—it's up to me to decide to text to not to text. This choice is straightforward.
Me: hi, this is Amélie.
I don't expect a quick reply. But when two hours later there's no answer, I try again.
Me: is this ben's phone? please let me know if i have the wrong number.
Still nothing. How hard is it to text back? I know he uses his phone. He showed me his food list, I've seen him type up notes into it many times at the store. Did he give me a wrong number?
I'm finishing up another chapter of "Look Alive at 25" snuggled up in my PJs in my bed with a decadent mug of jasmine tea. My phone vibrates and Yo-Yo over a picture of a yo-yo shows up.
B: It's Ben. Hi. Is everything OK?
Me: you are alive!
Me: all good here. just testing the texting.
B: Why wouldn't I be alive? Got done working. I didn't know that texting required testing. I will add a special ring tone for your texts, do I don't miss them. Are you canceling tomorrow's walk?
Me: what? no! are you?
B: You texted me. My plans haven't changed.
Me: true. just making sure i have the correct number. *winky face*
Such an obvious lie.
B: You do. Is this all?
Me: guess so. bedtime for me *sleepy face* see you tomorrow?
B: See you tomorrow, good night.
***
I'm prepared this time. For my clothing choice on our walk that is. I'm wearing yoga pants, sneakers, a t-shirt, so I don't look quite out of place next to Ben. Thursday's walk at the library was intense mentally. Twenty minutes in on today's one and it's a different kind of intensity. I'm breathless, and not because Ben's wearing another variation of running shorts.
Factum fieri infectum non potest. It is impossible for a deed to be undone.
Ben's a friend. This is a friendly walk. No, what we are doing is a walk in the loosest meaning of the word, and only because I can't run. New workout clothes don't make me fitter overnight. Keeping up with Ben is a physical impossibility. If we were wearing matching headbands and racing numbers on our backs, we could've qualified for some prize, surely.
Damn my pride. I want to feel my legs tomorrow. "Could we slow down?"
"Sorry. I get into a rhythm and get lost." Ben slows down, but it's not slow enough for me.
