13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Beau Drewitt
“Should a two hundred year old vampire be texting?”
No way. No fucking way. She answered.
One new message:
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
I need to know what the amount was for the ride, tip included. I may not be able to pay you back immediately, but I’ll try my best at your earliest convenience. Also, the tow truck too? Seriously? Thank you. Ugh.
What should I say?
Okay, Beau. Think. What kind of text would actually woo her without sounding like a creep?
“No panty talk,” I mutter to myself.
I draft. I delete. I backspace until my thumbs ache. Finally, I settle on:
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
My pleasure, Elowen. Don’t worry about the cost. After realizing you entered Damsel in Distress of your own accord into your contact, you know as well as I do that you needed that pressure lifted.
I would hope someone would do the same for me.
Don’t thank me for something I consider an obligation. Best regards.
Best regards. Why do I turn into a British person when texting her? Who am I? Am I having an identity crisis? No, worse. Is this a midlife crisis because technically no forever-twenty five-year-old should experience that?
Her reply comes instantly as if she was waiting by her phone.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
No. Thank you. I mean it. I thought you were going to kidnap me at first, and then you turned out to be a breath of fresh air. I wasn’t looking forward to retracing my last steps with the police if something happened.
I laugh under my breath. I was in her mind when she thought about me kidnapping her. I know for a fact she considered how fun I might make it.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Not into kidnapping, so you’re safe there. Can’t say much for anything else.
I send a dreaded double text because that was too forward. I second guessed the smiley face, but not that? Maybe don’t scare off the first woman we’ve ever been interested in.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
I’ll be around the store when your car is towed. Stop in, if you’d like. Maybe you can thank me in person?
Yeah. That was worse. Congrats.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
In person. In your store. During work hours?
Okay! Play it cool. Play it cool, Beau.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Yes. Appropriate, right? I could introduce you to Kai.
The ominous bubble lingers forever. And that’s saying something from someone as old as I am.
She thinks I meant thank me, thank me. Well. This could go one of three ways.
A.) She agrees to fucking in public, and we spend the rest of our lives together.
B.) She lets me down gently.
C.) She realizes I was literally just talking about a formal thank you.
Finally—
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Hahaha. I did NOT think you meant a verbal thank you. I’ll stop in tomorrow morning. It’s late. I should sleep.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Sleep tight, Damsel in Distress.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but that odd sensation of presumably hope cascades over my body once again. I have to know more about her.