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Butterflies fill my stomach.

Tommy Landen’s checking in on me again. Who does that? My ex of two years didn’t even notice when I dyed my hair fire-engine red that one week. I could have drank nothing but cherry cola for a year and he would have been none the wiser. But that’s Tommy, always looking out for people.

Sam: Five full bottles. And that’s not counting when I refilled the bottle when it was only halfway empty.

Ever since the auction cleanup day in May, he sends me reminders to drink water because I was clearly dehydrated after that huge night. It’s sweet that he thinks to check in.

Not that he’s checking in on me for any reason other than just being a nice guy. An easy-going guy would never settle for someone so neurotic like me.

Not that he’s thinking about being with me. Even though I’ve been thinking about him for months.

Stop.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am worthy of love. Love from someone other than my parents. Real love. Not love that tries to keep you in a mold, but love that frees you to live as your true self.

Another vibration.

Tommy: Even better than yesterday! You’ll need a bigger bottle for the council meeting tonight, maybe fill it with caffeine.

Another vibration.

Tommy: Or booze.

I feel like I’m walking right into his plan by asking, but I take the bait.

Sam: And why is that?

Three dots appear immediately, so I watch and wait, letting my nerves twist themselves in knots.

Tommy: Because there’s a fire safety course coming up. We don’t need to practice anything and we already do the required drills, but each year we have someone who wants to do something with a crazy amount of candles, or something like that, so we get to learn about what we’ve all been tested on annually.

I can almost hear the tone of his voice, the way it animates even something that could be mundane to someone else. He adds life to everything he touches.

Sam: I’ll be sure to take good notes and might even bring hot tea along with my water. Can’t take any chances.

My thumb hovers over the message, ready to unsend it, but he’s already read it.

Tommy: I wouldn’t expect anything less from the town’s PR expert.

My cheeks burn.

Sam: Hardly an expert, as we’ve already established.

Those three dots are immediate once again.

Tommy: I’m pretty sure that we’ve established you’re so much more than an expert at this point.

My stomach flips at his praise as my thumbs automatically move to type out something self-deprecating. Before I even type one word, I lift them off the screen with a grimace. It wouldn’t do any good to contradict Tommy about how I do my job because he always has a new reason for why I’m good at what I do. And maybe, for once, I can accept a compliment with grace. Or at least use the distance of texting to appear to take that compliment with said grace.

Oh. He’s typing again.

I wait.

And wait.

What on earth could he be talking about? Did he remember something I messed up? My brain starts to sift through details of the past few days and I’m about to mentally go through everything from the fundraiser when my phone’s vibrations help me refocus.

Tommy: I know that it can be hard, especially in a town that still might feel new to you, to feel like you’re really in your groove. But what you did for the auction fundraiser really was special. Not only was there a great line-up of bachelors ;) but half of the town showed up. That’s no small feat. We’ve had so many community functions that have truly been flops, but you’ve already found ways to get people excited and come together. Plus, that night raised record numbers of funds for something that the community desperately needed. So, chin up, take credit where credit’s undoubtedly due, and I’ll see ya tonight.