Can't Text This (Texting, #3)

by Teagan Hunter

“Hey, I’m Monty.” “Hi Monty. Wanna see my python?” He uttered the words with a cocky grin, and I was a goner. In my defense, that was the best pickup line out of all the guys tonight, and since I’m determined to enjoy myself since starting fresh in a new town, here I am: perched on the bathroom counter at a dive bar named Lola’s with a guy I only just met. He’s a new adventure, and I’m enjoying the exploration. His touch is gentle, yet firm in the best of ways. Large hands grasp my waist, holding tight enough for him to leave red marks but not bruise. It’s sexy, makes me feel safe, warm, alive. Or that could be his lips roaming over my jaw. His stubble rakes over my skin, and I live for this moment. I’ll be the first to admit this isn’t me. I’m not this girl. I don’t make out with strangers. Heck, I don’t even pick up guys in bars. I’m your average Mary Jane, the girl next door. I know it and I own it. I don’t have a single come hither bone in my body, but there was something about the way this man’s eyes slid over me that made me feel worthy of his kisses. Or it’s the booze talking. Yeah, it could be the booze.

Python: What makes you assume I’m a random hookup kind of guy? What makes you assume you’re not my type? Because of the way I look? Tsk, tsk. So judgy, Monty. Python: For the record, I’ve had random hookups in the past and they didn’t work out in my favor (i.e., I got a girl pregnant). Me: You’re a father? Python: I am. Me: I…I did not see that coming. Python: Is it a bad thing? Me: No, not at all! I love kids. Me: Not that I plan on meeting YOUR kid or anything like that. Just in general. Me: I guess I just also didn’t think dads did…well, THAT with strangers in public. Python: Are you ever going to just say it? Me: NO! Me: I don’t talk like that. Python: Fine, I’ll say it: I touched your pussy, Monty. I led you into the bathroom, kissed you senseless, and rubbed your clit until you were panting in my ear, and you liked every damn second of it. You came undone from my touch alone. Your hair was wild and your eyes full of satisfaction. Your cheeks burned a scarlet red and I can’t fucking stop thinking about it. Python: I want to see you come again. BAD.

Monty: Shoot, maybe I should go work for MY best friend. Those are some nice perks you got there, Mr… Wow, I don’t even know your last name. Monty: That realization just made me feel so…dirty. Me: Cross. My last name is Cross. Monty: Hi Robert Cross. I’m Montana Andrews. Even though you’ve already had your tongue down my throat and your hand up my skirt, it’s nice to officially meet you. Me: Likewise, Montana.

Me: What are these, kindergarten rules? Python: I’ll trade you my pudding for your cookie. Python: Oh man. If you’re sick and twisted that could be a really gross joke. Python: I’m sick and twisted enough as it is. Me: EW! ROBBIE! Python: Did you get it? Pudding = love juice and cookie = love canal. Me: Did you just call my vagina a love canal? Python: Um, possibly. Me: Remind me why I still talk to you? Python: It’s because I’m a good kisser.

Python: I think it’s my turn to hate you. Me: You named her Thumbelina Bruce Wayne, didn’t you? Python: Yes. Python: It just fits her so well. Me: Someone just took one step closer to making our “bang plan” happen. Python: For real? Shit. I’ll go buy ten bunnies and you can name them anything you want! Spanky, Sparky, Spidey, Tinker Bell! Whatever! Python: Can I just say I enjoy the fact that a bunny is what’s caused this? We’ll be banging like rabbits in no time. Me: And just like that, one step back. Don’t be a creeper, Robbie.

“I like you, Monty. I like you a lot.” His words are what some would consider juvenile. The force behind them, though—that’s what makes them so powerful. My knuckles begin to turn white as I grasp the phone even tighter. “I like you a lot too, Robbie,” I tell him. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t stop thinking about you, or your ass, your tits…your kissable-as-fuck mouth.” I chuckle at how far off this conversation just went, in typical Robbie fashion. “Or your off-the-wall personality and stupid sexy grandma outfits, which is kind of embarrassing if you think about it.” “They aren’t that bad.” “I beg to differ. Anyway, I like seeing you, spending time with you. I want to keep doing both of those things…often.” The line goes silent, and I worry for a moment that I’ve lost him. Then it hits me, what he’s saying right now—what he’s trying to say without really saying it. My heart picks up its pace and I’m so giddy, so full of energy all of a sudden. “Robbie, are you…are you asking me to go steady with you?” “I think so.” He mutters something I can’t entirely make out, but it sounded very similar to his favorite prayer. “Yes. I meant yes. I am.”

Me: No, rules are there to be FOLLOWED. It is very important to follow rules, especially our rules. Python: I had no idea I was dating someone so lame. Me: Yes you did. Python: You’re right. We should break up. Python: KIDDING. Don’t leave me. I like you too much. Me: I like you too, which is the problem. Python: And by problem, you mean the best thing to ever happen to you, right? Me: That is yet to be determined. Python: Noted, Monty. NOTED. Me: I could lose my job! Python: No you couldn’t. You said there was nothing in the handbook when you looked it over. We’re good. We just need to keep it professional and on the DL until he’s not in your class anymore. Me: So basically for THE ENTIRE SCHOOL YEAR? Python: YES. STOP YELLING AT ME, DAMMIT. IT IS NOT MY FAULT I HAVE A MAGIC DADDY DICK YOU CAN’T RESIST. Me: It is absolutely your fault. Me: Also, don’t call it that anymore. It’s creepy now that I know your son.