Page 63 of Pride and Protest

So many questions swirled in her head. She couldn’t explain why, but itfeltlike the truth. More than WIC’s sly explanations for not showing up. Dorsey felt more solid, more human to her than WIC did, and Liza felt a twinge of shame for not believing WIC.

Am I a sellout?

We’re memes again

It was all she could come up with.

We’re establishing a bit of a pattern.

I got your book.

Had you already read it?

No, I’m going to dive in tomorrow.

Why don’t you stop by my home and I can show you all the books from the class I’m auditing.

We could have a study group.

Liza wasn’t thinking about studying even as she typed that. If she went to his house she would want his hands on her, his mouth on her. She would show him effort. And from the way he held her at the gala, Liza knew she wouldn’t be alone in that wish.

Shit.

Damn.

She’d already planned her day away with WIC.

Um scratch that I overbooked myself tomorrow

Liza waited while the three dots wavered, then stopped. Finally, a GIF popped up of a dad telling his son, “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

Just remembered

God she wished she could take back her agreement with WIC.Thiswas what she wanted. Whatever this feeling was.

No Worries. I slow-danced in public with a beautiful woman.

Bucket list conquered.

Liza’s cheeks burned, and she quickly found a GIF ofThe Beverly Hillbillies, a black-and-white comedy her granny used to watch about newly minted country millionaires arriving dusty and uncouth in LA.

Travel with Family

Fuck it List Conquered.

#neveragain

Three ROFL emojis.

Three ticking dots.

The next time Liza looked up, the morning sun was streaking pink across the sky. Somehow, she’d texted Dorsey all night—GIFs and haikus and four a.m. selfies. They had their own language and jokes and lexicon now.

Last night, she and Dorsey were an entire universe. Now she had the whole day with WIC to get through.

The next morning was gray, wet, and limp. Liza did not want to move, much less curl her hair and put makeup on. Her phone vibrated, and she moved with a little too much speed to find it in the folds of the bed. LeDeya sat eating a heaping plate of eggs and hot sauce—expensive room service, Liza was sure.

“You finally up?” Deya asked. “You look like hell.”