Retreat to the comfort of texting

The old apprehension about being on the phone was sneaking back up on me. This is her number, I thought. We don't need to be on the line anymore. I stopped myself from sighing, but only because I knew how it would sound to my... new friend. I once danced in a cage at a gay bar in front of two thousand people during Pride month without wearing much of anything at all. That was no problem. But being on the phone? Ugh, I really am zoomer trash. "Okay, well I'm glad I still have your number," I said cheerily. "Just wanted to confirm that, I guess."

There was a second of silence on the other end. Eden shot me a look. Very smooth, Izzy, she was transmitting to me. I lifted my eyebrows back. Message received, they said. "It's really nice talking to you," I said, bridging the gap. "I know we just met, I don't know anything about you... but I'd love to hang out another time." God, I sounded like such a guy. These are not the circumstances in which a gal is supposed to be making a new lady friend. Tinder would be a world of improvement.

"I had a great time too," she said, throaty. I tipped my head back. Chills ran across the surface of my skin. Yes. That was the voice.

"Great," I said. My mouth felt dry. "I'll text you in a second. Hope you have a good night!" I held off from adding, text me when you're home, like a total mom. Given what we did together last night, though, I hoped that message would have a different vibe.

Rania said her goodbye and we hung up on each other. Then I put my phone down on the bare (and pebbled) skin of my thigh. Not exactly the information I was looking for, but it's easy to get distracted when talking to someone who ate it from the back very recently. I'm not to be blamed, I would say.

Eden was still staring daggers at me. "Girl," she said.

I drooped my head. "I know."

"You better text her right fucking now."

"I'm going to!"

"Either about last night or whatever. I don't care." She paused. "She sounded hot."

I sighed. "She is."

"Some people have all the luck."

Now I returned her glare. "Like you're hurting for a good lay," I said.

She smiled coyly. "Send that text," she said.

And, lo: