Texting.

I went back home after we finished eating. Mom would probably get mad at me for having eaten before dinner, but it was worth it. I felt a lot lighter after that conversation with Thomas, and I was content that I got to say some of the things I wanted at all.

On my way to my room I was stopped at the stairs by my sister, blocking my way up. She was looking at me with a scowl, which was becoming more common since that Saturday morning.

“You always come back home right after school. Where did you go?” she asked me.

“Since when do you care?”

“Since I heard you were hanging out with those three.”

“I see. Thanks for telling my teacher to talk me out of being with them by the way.”

“I’m worried about you, you idiot.”

“No you aren’t. You’ve never been,” I told her firmly. “I can only guess you have a grudge against them or something, because I can’t imagine you being worried about me.”

Her scowl deepened. “Answer the damn question, Oliver. Where were you?”

“I was having a burger with Thomas. Happy? Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh…” Her scowl vanished, as did the tension on her shoulders.

“Can I pass now?”

She moved aside without another word and I went back to my room. I threw myself on my bed face down and groaned into my pillow. It had been a generally great day if I didn’t count the many times I got sick from nerves, but that single exchange with my sister managed to bring me down.

Why was I always an ass to her? Why was she always an ass to me? I knew she lived in her own world, but every time she said something to me or did something it just pissed me off. If only my sixth sense worked on her like it did the other three maybe I could have understood her a little better.

I really did wish there was a way for us to get along better, like we used to as kids. But whereas I turned into an anxious mess, Isabelle started to hang out with other people, becoming more sociable and outgoing. Now she had a life in which I played no part. It was what I meant when I said she wasn’t really worried about me. It was like we had gone our separate ways in life, or more like Isabelle had gone ahead while I stayed behind.

Thinking about it was depressing me, so I turned my attention to other things. I changed my clothes from my uniform to something more comfortable and sat on my bed to look at my phone. I went to my contacts and saw those three new names.

Sarah, Grace, and Mila had happily exchanged contact info with me. Just looking at their names on my phone made me shamefully giddy. I considered sending a text just saying hello, but… No, no, no. It’d probably just be a bother. What would I even say?

I went down for dinner and was surprised when mom didn’t give me a hard time for eating out. I told her a schoolmate had invited me to eat and she was happy about it. I didn’t have many issues speaking at home, but I still didn’t have all that much to say. Not like I was gonna tell Isabelle and mom that I had a foursome at Thomas’ party or that I’d gotten two blowjobs that day.

I went back to my room that evening, sat at my desk and turned on my computer. It felt odd. I wanted to play some games or practice guitar, but I also didn’t at the same time. My mind was all over the place. What would tomorrow be like? What would the rest of the school year be like? And as I was thinking that, my phone vibrated on my desk.

I caught my heart pounding faster, imagining it was one of the girls saying hello, and… it kind of was.

-Grace: Hey Oliver! You got a minute? I wanted to ask you something.

A message from Grace! How many times did I wish this exact thing would happen a couple of years ago? My hands shook from excitement, making it difficult to type my reply.

-Oliver: Yes, I’m free. What do you need?

I pressed send and immediately started questioning myself. Did I sound too rude? Was it a boring reply? I had no time to ask myself more questions though, because next came two pictures.

The first was one of Grace posing in front of a full-body mirror, phone in hand, in what appeared to be her own bedroom. At least, the mountain of plushies on the bed made me believe so, remembering how she had mentioned having a favorite. She was wearing a deep blue set of lace lingerie and nothing more. The second picture was her in a different pose and wearing a set of red silk bra and panties, every bit as sexy as the first one.

-Grace: Which one do you think suits me better?

My lip quivered and I nearly dropped my phone. I stared at both pictures for a long time, taking in every detail. Grace’s perfect hourglass figure, her flawless skin, her sexy gaze, even her bed with the floral bed sheets and the white vanity desk behind her.

Her next message made me realize I’d been staring for too long.

-Grace: Not good?

-Oliver: No, it’s not that. I was thinking really hard. Both look incredible, but I think the color red suits you better.

-Grace: Is that so? I’ll take your advice, then. Thanks. What are you doing now?

I swallowed. She wanted to keep talking! That was great, but what could I say? I was literally doing nothing.

-Oliver: Nothing. I was thinking of playing games on my computer, but I’m not really in the mood today.

-Grace: Oh, you play video games?

That single line sent a cold chill down my back. I had just admitted to playing video games. Would she really think less of me for it? Her next message came in quickly.

-Grace: That’s perfect! I have a younger cousin who loves them. His birthday is coming up, so I wanted to give him one. Any recs? I know nothing about games.

Relief washed over me. At the very least, my hobby could be helpful here.

-Oliver: If you can tell me which platform he plays on and what kind of games he likes, then I should be able to help.

-Grace: I know he has that new portable console. I can’t remember the name. The one that you can also use with the TV, I think. He says he likes strategy games.

I could work with that. I looked around in the webpage I ordered my games from and sent her a few links to what I thought would be nice gifts.

-Grace: Wow. So quick! Hahaha. Thank you!

In the next few minutes she didn’t send another message. Was the conversation over? Should I ask something or would that be pushy? I didn’t want to bother her, but I wanted to keep chatting.

-Oliver: What are you doing?

-Grace: Oh, sorry! I was buying one of the games! I remembered my cousin mentioning he wanted one of those. You’re a lifesaver!

-Oliver: I’m glad I could help.

-Grace: Anyway, now I’m just lazing around in bed.

With the message came a picture of her, a selfie from above with her hugging a huge teddy bear that was almost her height. Grace was now wearing pink pajama shorts and a white t-shirt. Her super long hair was loose, giving her a different air than at school. She looked incredibly cute. I wondered if saying that was appropriate? She had told me I was cute at school, and though embarrassing… I liked it. Would she like it too?

-Oliver: You look cute.

I waited for a response with my phone in my trembling hands, eyes locked on the screen. She had read my message, but I saw no indication that she was writing a reply. So that was the anxiety people talked about when they were ‘left on read’. I waited for several more minutes, terrified that I had said something bad. But then a reply came.

It was a picture of Grace with her T-shirt pulled up to just below her nipples. I could see plenty of underboob, her taut stomach and only half her face smiling at me.

-Grace: That’s all you get for tonight. I’ll be really happy if you can talk half this much to me at school tomorrow, okay? If you do, I promise to show you more in person.

-Oliver: I’ll try. I promise.

-Grace: Good boy. *kisses* Goodnight, Oliver.

I swear I could’ve screamed out my window at that moment.