Page 46 of Unwritten Rules (Rules 1)

Winter: 7 texts seriously? Can you please stop blowing up my phone? I’m busy ignoring you.

Haze: And live without your heartwarming messages. How will I ever survive

Winter: I’ll block your number, I swear.

Haze: You’d miss me too much.

Winter: What do you want? Don’t you have STDs to catch?

Haze: That stung.

Winter: STDs tend to do that.

Haze: Look at you trying to convince yourself that you’d never sleep with me ;)

Winter: Don’t you have better things to do?

Haze: Better than annoying my favorite Canadian. Nah.

Winter: Lucky me.

Haze: Speaking of. I have a question for you.

Winter: Consider me afraid.

Haze: Are you a virgin.

Winter: No, I’m a Scorpio.

Haze: Virgin. Not Virgo.

Winter: What about you? I bet you’re a Sagittarius.

Haze: God, you’re annoying.

Winter: That’s something a Sagittarius would say.

Haze: How long can you dodge questions like that

Winter: I can go all day. My turn to ask questions. What do you have against question marks?

Haze: Nothing, I’m just lazy

Winter: Right but you’re not too lazy to text me seven times.

He stops replying. I put the phone down, a feeling of guilt burdening me. What’s happening to me? I feel bad for texting him. But mostly, I feel bad for kind of liking it. I shake my head as if it’ll somehow restore much-needed order to my obviously disturbed mind. Then, after a good ten minutes, my phone lights up with a reply.

Haze: I’m never too lazy when it comes to you.

He probably says things like that to a thousand different girls, but I’m not completely unaffected by it and I hate it. He can’t expect me to fall for his lines. I won’t.

Acting on impulse, I do something I shouldn’t. But what’s new? I stare at the message I just sent and regret it immediately. This probably seems like an invite into my life.

Maybe it is.

Winter: All talk. No action.

I stare at the conversation intently, afraid of his answer. To say I don’t hold my breath when he replies would be a lie.