“I’m seeing Perrine tomorrow for yoga and dinner,” Lola said. “I could ask her to try to get some info out of him.”

“No!” Cleo and I said at the same time. Lola laughed.

“Great minds,” I said, leaning over to pat Cleo’s leg gingerly.

“This great mind is ready for that Advil you promised me earlier,” she moaned. “I hate my period.”

“It’s honestly a wonder our cycles are not synced,” Lola said.

“Well, I’m on birth control, so y’all will need to sync up with me,” I replied, a finger pointed to my chest.

“Hey,” said Lola, sitting up. “We’re all supposed to go out to dinner on Friday, remember? So you two can get to know Perrine better? Hayes is going to be there.”

Oh crap, right. She’d mentioned this over text at some point, and I’d said yes. Now her face was so eager it was clear this meant a lot to her.

“You’ll still come, right? Even if things with Hayes are weird?”

“Of course,” I assured her. I pushed back up off the floor and shuffled my slippered feet into the bathroom, digging around in the drawer I kept telling myself I needed to organize. Finally, I found the giant bottle of store-brand ibuprofen shoved in there next to my hair dryer and a box of organic tampons.

I walked back to the living room, bottle in hand, when I noticed both my friends sitting upright, erect, and slightly tense. “What?” I asked.

“Check your phone,” Cleo said quickly. “You got a text.”

I glanced at my phone on the floor, stomach leaping up to my throat. I looked back at my friends, who were staring at me expectantly. “You read it, didn’t you?”

“The whole message was just right there, on your screen.” Lola scrunched her face apologetically.

“Legally, we’re fine, because the text revealed itself to us,” Cleo said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t use your law degree against me!” I bent down and grabbed my phone off the floor, pressing the home button to reveal the screen.

Francesca, hi. Could we talk?

I stared at the screen, crafting my reply in my head. So far, all I had was “Yes.” Suddenly, another message popped up.

In case it’s unclear, I was using “Francesca’’ because you commented on me using your full name last night. I think this is me trying to be funny or perhaps even charming, but I am not particularly good at it, so.

My cheeks turned red, like a stovetop set to high. Seconds later, this:

I’m going to stop now.

I smiled, a small laugh escaping my lips. “Oh my god, what?” said Lola, her voice laced with the kind of urgency only a best friend coaching you through a postkiss text-message exchange can possess.

“He’s just somehow even more awkward over text, and it’s oddly charming.”