Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
But as much as I love paperbacks, I have to say that I love the idea of carrying around a library in my pocket even more. I love the idea of browsing through that library with only a touch of my fingers and that I can read well into the night even when everything is dark around me. I used to do that a lot: paperbacks during the day and around school, ebooks at night, lying down on my side with the phone propped up on the pillow.
So I should text him, right?
If not for anything else but to thank him at least. For giving me this phone with reading apps on it. Even though it’s hard to read on the tiny screen, it’s still the best thing I’ve ever gotten. Maybe he doesn’t even know the kindness he’s done me.
Up in my bedroom, propped up on my pillows, I switch on the phone and open the text app.
His number is the only one saved on here. Oh, and the name it’s saved under is Bossman.
Yeah, hilarious.
Shaking my head, I type in:
Hi.
Biting my lip, I hit send.
But then I panic. It’s like, 12:01. Maybe he’s sleeping.
So then I send:
Are you sleeping?
Which freaks me out more because then I start to wonder if he knows who I am even. So I decide to say,
This is Echo.
After that I just clench my eyes shut and drop my phone on my belly.
Great. Just great, Echo.
Why are you such a dork?
Of course he knows who I am. He bought me this phone. He put his own number into my phone. Of course, he’d put mine on his too. Under Servant Girl, I bet.
A few seconds later, as I’m writhing in my embarrassment, my belly buzzes.
Or the phone on my belly does.
I scramble to pick it up and with a slamming heart, I open his reply.
Bossman
I know.
And yes.
I don’t know what it means or proves that I immediately understand what he means. He knows that I’m Echo and yes, he’s sleeping.
I can even hear him say that.
In his dry sarcastic tone wrapped up in his rough, deep timbre as he lies awake in his bed or wherever he is.
Frowning, I type:
Servant Girl
Ha. Very funny.
His reply comes instantly:
Bossman
What do you want?
This, I can hear too.
Rude and mean.
I breathe out sharply before typing,
Servant Girl
There’s a thing called politeness.
Have you heard of it, Reign?
Bossman
No, Echo.
What is politeness?
Servant Girl
It means being nice to people.
Also known as to be civil, courteous, respectful and well-mannered.
Bossman
Ah, I get it now.
Servant Girl
Get what?
Bossman
You’re the mail-order English teacher that I ordered by mistake.
I snort.
As if.
Servant Girl
Please. You couldn’t afford me, even if you wanted to. 🙄
Bossman
Yeah, I was going for a stripper anyway.
I narrow my eyes at the phone.
Because I swear to God, I can hear this too. I can also picture his smirk and his amused eyes while he watches my displeased expression and pursed lips.
Servant Girl
Why are you always so crass? 😒
Bossman
Because you’re always so easy.
Servant Girl
Can we please have a normal conversation for once? 🙏
Bossman
Sure. Let’s have a normal conversation for once.
So tell me.
Servant Girl
Tell you what?
Bossman
The color of your panties.
This time the phone drops on my belly on its own. As my hands shake and a big gasp escapes. I even sit up on the bed. The phone then slides down to my lap where I stare at it like it’s a snake or something.
A dangerous thing.
Swallowing, I pick it up. And type,
Servant Girl
What?😱
Bossman
You wearing any?
Servant Girl
WHAT?😱😱
Bossman
I hope not.
What about a bra? You got a bra on?
Servant Girl
Stop. 🙅♀️
I swear to God, I hear him chuckle now.
Dirty and filthy.
Making me all heated and restless.
Bossman
Yeah?
Servant Girl
Yes.
Bossman
You’re the one who texted me.
Servant Girl
To talk. Not get asked about my… underwear.
I imagine another chuckle.
Damn it.
I probably should have written ‘panties’ just to try to be bold in front of him. I couldn’t though.
My fingers wouldn’t type that word.
Bossman
Well, that’s the only kind of talking I do over texts.
Does he mean sexting?
He does, doesn’t he?
Asshole.
Sighing sharply, I type:
Servant Girl
In that case, I feel sorry for any girl who texts you.
Bossman
Don’t. They all leave very satisfied by the end of it.
I feel like he dropped his voice and stretched out ‘satisfied.’
Servant Girl
Yeah because that’s what every girl wants: sexting with Reign Davidson. 🙄
Bossman
That and take out the ing at the end. Because a lot of them want that too with Reign Davidson.
Servant Girl
How egotistical do you have to be to refer to yourself in the third person? 🧐
Bossman
Very. But only because I have a big ego. An enormous ego. An ego of epic proportions.
Servant Girl
How does it ever fit into your small head then?
Bossman
Oh my head’s fine, trust me. It is a struggle though, to fit it in my pants.
What does…
Oh God. God.
Yikes.
I cannot believe I walked into that. I cannot believe.
Bossman
You walked right into that one, didn’t you?