The Wingman Chronicles by James Holeva

Author:James Holeva [Holeva, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humor & Entertainment, Humor, Literature & Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy
ISBN: 9781479344598
Google: mhLvMgEACAAJ
Amazon: B0096DIAW2
Publisher: Dirty Kid Productions
Published: 2012-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Texting Won’t Stifle My Adventure

She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Yeah that’s cool,” she laughed, then intensely typed into the touch screen of her iPhone.

I sat across the table from Aubrey in a swanky Asian fusion spot in the financial district as she ate her spicy tuna roll with her hands, dipping the pieces in soy sauce like she was eating mozzarella sticks and marinara sauce. “So I really like you,” she said, her eyes still glued to her phone and fingers rapidly typing.

“You too,” I mustered a smile.

She had a way of saying words that were supposed to mean something while avoiding eye contact completely, and continuing to multitask. Her mouth opened wide with surprise, and she used both hands to passionately type, smiling as she pressed “Send”. “Would you prefer I text you so we could have a better conversation?” I asked.

“What?” she laughed, awkwardly. “Oh Jen had something really important to tell me, and then Abigail was totally freaking out about this older guy she’s been off and on with, and Marissa was telling me that she fucked him, too. But, Abigail didn’t know, so I was telling Abigail.”

“That might mean more to me if I knew the people,” I said.

Truthfully it wouldn’t. I didn’t care. Young girls did that all the time, though, where they’d mention their friends by first name as if the person they’re telling knows their life story. They were wannabe socialites and in their opinions Facebook and Twitter celebrities who thought everybody wanted to know the intense reality show soap opera that was their awesome lives. I’d say this was a New York thing, or a city thing, but every small town had the same cliques of girls in their late teens and early twenties.

“So you’re like, writing a book?” she asked.

“Uh huh.”

“I hate reading.”

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me.”

She ate another roll with her left hand while continuing to type with her right. That must be her dick hand, I thought. She extended her arm across the table shoving her iPhone in my face, scrolling through drunken pictures of her and her friends holding drinks, and dancing. “Look, this is me with my bestie Abigail, and here’s Jen, and this is Marissa,” she said. “We are so crazy together. It’s hilarious.”

This was worse than fucking baby pictures. Don’t show me pictures of your friends if they’re not either naked, in lingerie, or involved in a sex act.

I met Aubrey at some club when she was bar hopping for a friend’s birthday, and I think we made out a little before she had to leave with her crew of twenty. She texted me, and for some reason I answered. She was hot, and while I do enjoy a bar-room public display of horniness with an anonymous girl, this was torture. I could’ve been spending a lovely evening hate-fucking Vicky who was still attempting to contact me despite having cut her off, but here I was bored and now the girl actually liked me. That’s never a good thing.

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