AngryTink: I thought that was The Wizard of Oz.

Chuckling, I took the stairs to my loft.

RhysThis: Close enough. You’re no longer in Kansas, little girl.

AngryTink: I’m going to ignore the little-girl part. Because it reeks of misogyny.

My steps grew lighter, faster, the smile spreading over me like a wave. I could breathe again.

RhysThis: I thought you were going to ignore it?

AngryTink: Anyway … Why are you texting?

Because I need you. I need your sass. I need you …

I tried to shake the thought away. It was a weakness I couldn’t afford. But the thought remained. I needed her.

Shit.

AngryTink: Rhys? You there? Or did you run off the road on that mildly enjoyable bike of yours? Please don’t tell me you’re texting and driving! That’s illegal, you know.

Huffing out a laugh, I answered.

RhysThis: You enjoy my bike, huh?

A pause, and then she replied.

AngryTink: A little. Just a little. And you didn’t answer.

RhysThis: Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m at home.

AngryTink: Sweetheart?

She sent an eye-roll emoji and then: What’s up? Is there something you need?

You. Here. Please.

Shit, I had to get out of this. I didn’t know what to say.

AngryTink: Actually, it’s good you texted. I need you.

For a hot second, the bottom dropped out of my stomach. She needs me. My heart rate kicked up like I’d just gone ten brutal rounds with a top opponent. She needs me. I was about to smile, about to text her back with something like: Thank Christ. What took you so long?

Another text dinged.

AngryTink: Argh. That sounded wrong! Sorry. Distracted. I need you for another “date.”

I was a damn fool. An idiot. Of course that’s what she needed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was getting soft and stupid on a girl that would never fit in my world. And I’d never fit in hers.

My thumb hit the screen hard as I tapped out my reply.

RhysThis: What is it this time? Croquet with the queen? Watching yuppies row their little crew boats?

It took her a bit to answer. Time enough that I felt remorse for taking a cheap jab.

AngryTink: Not that I don’t love a good crew race, but no. It’s a garden party on Saturday. Yuppies will be in attendance. Can you handle that? Or do the yuppies scare you too much?

I had to give it to Parker; she was a fierce competitor. She’d block any hit I sent her way and followed through with an excellent counterstrike.

Like that, I was smiling again.

No. No. No.

No more smiling at texts. This is business, you moron. Play your part.

RhysThis: Babe, for the money you’re paying me, I can handle anything you throw my way. ;-)