Sugar

8

chapter eight
florence thompson
song: saturday night - khalid

    I'd texted him.

    I'd done it.

    When, you may ask?

    An hour and a half ago...not that I'm counting or anything.

    After ten minutes of radio silence from my cellphone, we decided to finally start the movie. My chest ached, his earlier words echoed in my mind as I sat and watched Gina Rodriguez being a badass on the TV screen

    "I'll be waiting."

    Well apparently not, ya big ole' shi-

    My phone pinged in that exact and very ironic moment, grabbing the attention of both Rico and myself. We glanced at each other and then back at the device that was lit up on the coffee table in front of us. Before I could react Rico dove and nabbed my phone from the table and sprung up to his feet.

    "Rico!" I shrieked, attempting to grab the device from his hands as he held it high over my head like we were brother and sister fighting over the TV remote. "Give me my goddamn phone!"

    "Ooh, I'm spooked," Rico spoke in a monotone, his eyes scanning my phone before a sly smirk broke out onto his face.

    "What? What? Why are you smiling like that? Stop it!" I said, smacking his chest before he handed me my phone over with a grin.

    Miss Thompson, I wasn't sure if you were going to stand me up again.

    Glad to see you came through.

    I sighed at Mr. Oh So Cryptic, plopping down on the couch and pondering how exactly I'm supposed to respond to a message like that.

    "Oh, would you look at that," Rico spoke, motioning towards the TV where the end credits began rolling. "I should get going to bed. Early shift tomorrow, you know." He smirked evilly, rounding up his trash and disposing of it in the garbage can.

    "What am I supposed to say?" I asked hurriedly before he was gone, sitting backwards on the couch and resting my arms on the back of it as I watched him get ready to go to bed.

    "That's all on you, chica." Rico smiled, resting a hand on his hip as he stared at my pouty expression. "You know what I'd say. Something very dirty and promiscuous, so I don't think I'm the best advice giver at the moment. Maybe ask a nun down the road at that chu-,"

    He didn't have a chance to react before I threw a throw pillow at him, groaning in frustration which only led him to burst out in a fit of laughter as he ran down my hall and to my bedroom.

    I sighed, turning back around and sinking into the couch, reading his message a few more times as I did my best to think of some type of response.

    I'm a woman of my word, Mr. De Bellis.

    In a moment I had another message, sending my heart into a flurry in my chest.

    So it would appear.

    How was the rest of your shift at the diner?

    I felt my cheeks warm at the mention of the diner, the image of the $100 bill sitting on the table waiting for me to pick it up came to mind.

    It went well. Thank you for your overly generous tip, you really shouldn't have.

    I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I awaited his response. The wait always seemed to be the most nerve-wracking part, wondering if you'd said something stupid or if they would ever return your message.