Page 8 of Off-Limits

“What?”

“Today. It’s three in the morning.”

“Fuck,” she grouses, leering at her phone.

“Message him.”

“I did. He needs time.”

“Well, that’s something.”

Arrie shrugs but doesn’t reply.

“I’m going to send an email quickly and then I’ll come to bed.”

We say our goodnights, and when Arrie disappears down the hallway, I gnaw on my lip and reach for my phone. The light blinks incessantly, causing my tummy to dip. I flop down on the sofa and open the notification. My heart thrashes around in my chest when I see his name on the screen.

Tin Man

I hesitate a moment longer before clicking on his message.

I know we said we wouldn’t talk anymore, but I can’t seem to get you out of my head.

I smile stupidly at the message, because if I’m honest with myself, I’ve missed our chats as well. How can I miss someone I’ve never met?

Fuck it.

I type out a message:

Aw, you missed me?

And when he pops back online, I shriek and throw my phone, but quickly grab it when I hear it sound again.

How could I not, Blossom?

Blossom. It makes me smile again. I didn’t want to use my real name, so I used Cherry Blossom, and ever since we started messaging, he’s called me Blossom.

I thought you were at a point in your life where you couldn’t be messaging young girls anymore?

I type back, hating that a part of me resented him for calling me young, for making me enjoy our chats, only to cut me off.

For making me feel as if he was abandoning me, like I wasn’t good enough.

I am. Like I said, I can’t get you out of my head, and that last picture you sent me has haunted my dreams… You’re dangerous, Blossom.

I read over the message a few more times before responding.

Dangerous how?

You make me want to be selfish. That’s something I’ve never allowed myself to be. But with you… You make it seem possible.

My fingers fly over the keypad a few times before I erase everything I wrote. I want to be selfish, too, but can I allow myself to fall for someone I don’t know? To allow myself to be vulnerable like I was growing up and living with my parents.

No. I can’t be that girl anymore. I won’t.

Instead of replying, I exit the app, guilt overwhelming me. My hands shake the longer I hold my phone, and when I finally force myself to put it down, it’s with a reluctance I don’t understand. However, I don’t allow myself to wallow in the what-ifs or the whys of my emotions. Instead, I walk to my room and slide into my king-sized bed beside Arrie.

She’s curled around a pillow on the far end, and I briefly wonder if she cried herself to sleep. Pulling the blanket over her, I roll over to my side away from her.