College—Sophomore Year
“Pretty, pretty please come out with me tonight,” my dormmate, Margie, begs.
I open my mouth to tell her I’ll pass when my phone beeps with a text from Rex.
My Main Man—I did not put this as his name: Sorry, Lina babe. I’ve already made plans. We’re going out tonight for Nigel’s b-day. I can come by later if you’re awake, or tomorrow night, I’m all yours.
His response shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does, but tonight’s the second Friday he’s had other plans. Sure, expecting him to hang out with me every weekend isn’t fair, but damn it, he should hang out with me every weekend.
Call me codependent; I don’t care.
Rex has always been my security blanket.
I was here without him for a semester last year while he deferred, undecided on his major. Undecided meaning, he spent that semester arguing with his parents. They wanted him to go into law or politics. He didn’t. It’d always been the plan for the Lane boys to follow in their father’s footsteps. Kyle, his older brother, sank half of that dream when he dropped out of school to become a police officer.
His drop out pushed their pressure onto Rex.
I can’t picture Rex as an attorney or in politics.
It’d bore him to death.
His parents eventually grasped there was no changing his mind, and being obsessed with their image, they found him not attending college more embarrassing than him majoring in computer science.
He now attends Iowa State with me.
Having him here has been a relief. My first semester, I was either driving home to Blue Beech regularly or he was making the two-hour trek, so we could see each other.
Him being here has helped with the loneliness of my college life.
Him being here has also fueled a spark of jealousy inside me.
The dating pond was small in our high school.
Here, it’s a freaking ocean.
Panic spills through me every time I catch a girl hitting on Rex. The fear that one of them could possibly be the girl who changes his life, who steals his heart and takes him from me. Even though he denies it, one day, I’ll lose him to another woman.
It’s no party, being in love with your best friend, let me tell you.
Rex has been anti-relationship since the first day we hung out. His parents’ dysfunctional marriage has him convinced that relationships are toxic and nothing but forced expectations. He’s so afraid of failure, of ending up like his father, that he pushes away at any mention of the word commitment.
My friendship with Rex is the longest relationship he’s ever had.
He’s not a fan of relationships.
I’m not a fan of getting my heart broken.
Friends it is with us.
Even after giving him my virginity, I’ve never expected more from him. That night, he changed the sheets while I went to the bathroom, and we awkwardly said our good nights. The next day, we acted like it never happened. Neither one of us has muttered a word about the night I randomly walked into his room and demanded he take my V-card.
Margie snapping her fingers in front of my face breaks me away from the I’m pissed at Rex thoughts. “You. Me. Going out. Your sad face says you need a drink, and I will gladly help with that.”
When I first met Margie—a bleached blonde wearing a miniskirt and suede knee-high boots—I thought there was no way we’d get along and that I was in for a miserable year.
I was so wrong.
Margie is a girlfriend I wish I’d had in high school.
She’s popular, but she always tries to include me in everything she does.
“Hey,” I argue. “I don’t have a sad face.” I force my lips into a smile.
“You’re definitely sporting a sad face.” She plops down on the side of my bed. “You know what goes well with sad faces?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me, and it’s not going to be a proven fact,” I grumble.
“Alcohol. It’ll turn that frown upside down.” Her tone turns into a whine. “Come on. You’ve gone out with me a total of three times—”
“You’re keeping track?” I interrupt.
“Yes, so I can hold it against you every time you say no.”
“All right.” I dramatically sigh. “You talked me into it.”
She tilts her head to the side, as if she didn’t hear me correctly. “Huh?”
I shrug. “Having fun tonight sounds better than Netflix.”
She leaps up from the bed, squealing, and then breaks into an obnoxious dance. “Girls’ night! We’re going to have so much fun; you’ll be begging me to go out every night!”
Doubt that.
The less people-ing in my life, the better.
I change out of my sweats into a snake-print minidress. Margie forced me to go shopping with her after we met. As soon as we walked into the boutique, my eyes went straight to this dress. She snatched it from my hands before pushing me into a dressing room and handing it back, insisting I try it on. The dress is hot—not something I’d normally wear since party attire isn’t needed much in my life. When I refused to buy it, she did and hung it up in my closet just in case.
That just in case is happening tonight, apparently.
“And put these on, too,” she says, shoving strappy black heels into my hands. “You’re going to look so hot.” She whistles when I’m finished. “Day-um. It looks even hotter on you now than it did in the boutique. I’m going to have the sexiest wingwoman tonight.”
I run a hand down the dress with a satisfied smile. “Thank you. I still need to pay you back for it.”
She waves off my response. “Consider it a dorm-warming gift. Now, put on some makeup, and let’s blow this joint. Lewis, the guy with dreads down the hall, is having predrinks in his room. We’ll pregame and then go party-hopping.”
I nod, quickly putting in my contacts, swiping on mascara, and adding light-pink gloss to my lips. She grabs my hand as soon as I slide the lip gloss into my bag and hauls me down the hallway.
The fact that I don’t break an ankle in the heels is a miracle.
I still have the rest of the night to worry about it, though.
I’m not the most coordinated person wearing flats, so fingers crossed I don’t bust my ass.
“Margie, you brought a friend!” a guy calls out when we walk in.
His dreads are a sure sign he’s Lewis. I’ve also passed him in the hall a few times since our dorm is coed.
Rex isn’t a fan of my coed living situation and has suggested I request a transfer more times than I can count.
I notice three guys and a girl in the corner of the room, their attention glued to their phones.
Lewis shuts the door and points at me. “I’ve seen you before. You’re in my Social Science class.”
I nod and offer a friendly smile.
“For that, I’m making you a drink.”
He takes the few steps to a desk covered with alcohol bottles and sodas. My eyes widen as he hurriedly pours vodka into a red Solo cup and adds a splash of Pepsi. He has a dopey smile on his face when he hands it to me.
Margie plucks it from my hand in seconds. “You’re not drinking this.” She gives it back to Lewis, pats my shoulder, and grabs a bottle of beer from the other desk. “Here, this is much more your style, babe.”
My style is actually tequila. It’s the drink Rex and I secretly and frequently sipped on in his room, straight out of Gatorade bottles.
Margie points at me. “Don’t take anything from anyone while we’re out tonight.”
Margie reminds me of Rex.
Apparently, I have an affinity for people who like to boss me around.
“I’m a big girl,” I say. “Older than you as a matter of fact.”
“Is that why you go to bed at the same time as my grandma?” Her face turns serious. “Carolina, I love you and all, but you fail at the party scene. Lewis could’ve handed you roofied mouthwash, and you would’ve trusted him and drunk it.”
“Okay, you’re rude,” I mutter.
“Stay by my side. Don’t accept drinks from creeps. Steer clear of frat guys.”
“I’ll do my best not to drink drugged Listerine, Mom.”
She kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
The house is crowded when we walk in. A different song pounds from every room, and my shoulders bump into people when I follow Margie into the kitchen.
“You fucking suck!”
I wheel around, finding a group of people crowded around a beat-up, graffitied beer pong table. A guy at the far end grabs a red Solo cup and chugs down the remnants in seconds.
“Here, drink this,” Margie says, pushing a cup in my direction.
“I’m sorry,” I say, peeking up and batting my eyes at her. “My mother told me not to accept drinks from creeps.”
“Good practice, babe,” she says, tapping the top of my head. She tips her cup toward the table and calls out, “We’ve got next game!”
Oh, heck no.
“I’m so not playing beer pong,” I hiss.
“You’re so playing beer pong,” she corrects, authority-like. “I don’t care if you suck. I’ll take one for the team because I know you’ll have fun.” She gives me a sappy grin. “Suck all you want, and I’ll still be your friend. I mean, I’ll be a very drunk friend but still a good one.”
I sip on my beer as she proceeds to explain the rules of beer pong while we wait for the guys to finish up their game. I shake my head when she asks if I have any questions.
I gulp, fighting with myself on how to play this out.
“I’ll go first,” Margie says as we take our spots at the end of the table. “Just watch what I do, okay?”
I nod. “Got it.”
“Do we have a newbie in the house?” our opponent, a guy sporting an overgrown man bun, asks from across the table. Even though his question was directed at me, his eyes are fixed on Margie, his face masked with desire. “Does that mean you’re trying to get drunk tonight, babe?”
“Shut up,” Margie says, pulling her shiny hair into a ponytail before blowing them a kiss. “Prepare to lose, assholes.”
She wastes no time before grabbing a white ping-pong ball and tossing it toward them, and the group yells when it lands in the cup in front of him with a plop.
The guy laughs and cheers her before downing his drink.
He takes his turn, and the ball drops into one of our cups.
Margie drinks her cup before handing me the ball. “You got this.”
“I got this.” I sigh to myself, drawing in the confident smirks smothered on our opponents’ faces, fully expecting me to miss.
I lift my hand, gracefully sending my ball in their direction, and it sinks into their middle cup.
Margie squeals, grabbing my arm and jumping up and down before smirking at them. “Drink up, boys.”
“Beginner’s luck,” man-bun dude yells.
“I never said I was a beginner,” I retort. “That’s what you get for assuming.”
“Holy shit,” man-bun’s partner says—a scrawny guy with a shaved head. “I think I love her.”
He gulps down his drink.
Makes his next shot.
I drink.
Just like with tequila, Rex is a beer pong fan—a big one—and he taught me how to play a mean game with him. One of our classmates always held bonfires in his field and beer pong tournaments in his parents’ barn. Rex demanded I be his partner every time, and I learned the game. We were the reigning champs until we graduated.
People might think I’m a prude who doesn’t have fun, but they don’t know me.
I’m not me with other people, not in my comfort zone like I am with Rex.
He gets me, and when someone gets you, you’re not afraid to take risks.
I’m on my fourth game of beer pong.
Margie and I have won every time, and even though we’ve been kicking ass, our opponents don’t suck. They’ve hit enough cups to give me a slight buzz, which I’m thankful for.
It’s clouding my thoughts about Rex ditching me.
I bring the cup to my lips … and then nearly choke when it’s pulled away mid-sip.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
My heartbeat triples in speed when I see a fuming Rex in front of me. I don’t get the chance to ask what he thinks he’s doing before he captures my elbow in his hand and pulls me through the crowd. He doesn’t release me until we’re outside and away from the madness.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he repeats, stepping closer.
Oh, hell no.
He doesn’t get to act like he can be the only one to have fun.
“I’m here for the same reason you are—to party and drink,” I answer with a huff. “And screw you. How dare you drag me out of there like you’re my father!”
It’s dark, and the only light around us is the faint one coming from the porch light.
I can’t witness the anger on his face.
I can hear it, though.
Irritation slides along every word, and tension fills his sharp breaths. “I told you, if you go to a party, I go with you.”
Even though he can’t see it, I scowl at him. “Weird. You don’t ask for my permission to attend parties.”
“That’s different,” he grumbles. “And you know it.”
“How?”
“I’m a dude, and you’re … well, you.”
I angrily open my crossbody bag, pull out my phone, and ignore the texts he sent me an hour ago. “I’m me? Let me interrupt this broadcast to Google the definition of women’s rights for you where it says I can do whatever the hell I want.”
I groan when he snatches the phone, turns on the flashlight, and shines it down on me. I wince at the bright light, hating that he’s putting me on display.
“I know enough about that, considering the endless documentaries you’ve made me watch about it,” he replies.
“Obviously, I need to make you watch more.”
“I do this to keep you safe, Carolina,” he says. Some of his frustration slips, and a hint of gentleness comes through. “Not to be an overbearing asshole.”
My eyes rise to meet his. “Safe from what? Having a good time?”
“No, safe from date-rape drugs, from dudes who take advantage of tipsy chicks, from you putting yourself in dangerous situations. I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to watch over you.”
“Huh. Maybe as your best friend, I want to keep you safe. Maybe I don’t want you to get date-raped.” I sigh. “If you want to be my cockblock, Lane, then I’ll be yours. I’ll be blocking vaginas left and right tonight.” I do a show of dramatically elbowing the air on each side.
He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Not funny.”
“You know what isn’t funny? Having a double-standard friendship.” I hate that my eyes turn glossy. Normally, I’m not this sensitive, but I miss him, and I’m mad at him, and we rarely argue. “It’s not fair, Rex.”
“Shit,” he bites out. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not. My eyes are irritated from your bullshit. Seems I’m allergic.”
He chuckles before holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll drive you back to your dorm.”
I slap his hand away. “Nuh-uh, mister. I’m staying here and having fun, and then I’ll ride back with Margie’s friend.”
He shakes his head. “Nice try. I’m driving you back. If you’re good, I’ll stop and get you an ice cream cone.”
“This isn’t funny,” I seethe.
Rex always tries to make light of every situation because serious talks aren’t his thing. I can only imagine what we look like—standing to the side of the yard at a party, arguing like a drunk couple where the girlfriend found her frat boyfriend cheating.
I snatch my phone from his hand, catching him off guard, and aim the light on him. “I’m not a child or your little sister. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
I was wrong about him being frustrated.
Now that I can see his face, every emotion shows.
He’s downright pissed.
His eyes narrow as he steps closer. “You’re drinking and dressed like that.” He bites into his lower lip while moving his gaze down my body. “Where did you even get that dress? I’ve never seen it, and trust me, I’d remember it.”
“You don’t see me all the time.”
“Enough times to know you haven’t worn it before.”
“Rex!”
I shift over to look past him and find a blonde on the porch. She yells his name again, her hand resting against her forehead as she scans the yard for him. Rex doesn’t bother turning around to look at her; his intense eyes are closed in on me, as if we were the only people in this yard.
“Lina,” he says softly.
“Rex!” the chick yells his name again.
I snarl in aggravation. Why is she looking for him? Did he come with her?
Rex might be overprotective of me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep an eye on him. Sometimes, I hate myself for it—like right now, when there’s a girl yelling his name, wanting him to go back and hang out with her.
Hang out with her. Not with me.
I push him back. “You have a party to get to, and so do I.”
He steps to the side, stopping me. “Fuck the party. You’re more important.”
“What will you do then?” I throw my arm out toward the porch. “Take me back to my dorm, come back, and then hook up with the chick on the porch who’s looking for you?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, his voice on edge. “I didn’t have a plan, considering I didn’t know you’d be here. My biggest priority at the moment is to return you to your dorm, safe—”
I cut him off, “You’re a jerk.”
It’s his turn to cut me off. “If you’d let me finish my goddamn sentence, I was going to say, unless you want me to stay and hang out with you.”
“I don’t want you to pity hang out with me.” My voice is strained.
He looks at the sky. “Fuck!” His attention flickers back to me. “I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink, but what the hell? Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what exactly?” I give him a death stare.
“Like a totally different Carolina.”
“Maybe this is me. The new Carolina.” I step to the other side of him, so he’s no longer blocking me, and I walk past him, pushing the phone back into my purse without bothering to turn the flashlight off. “This Carolina is going to drink some more and maybe find a guy to look for her from the porch.”
I sound like a total brat, but how dare him!
His arm circles my waist, and he pulls me back. “This Rex is not going to allow that shit.”
I shove him away. “Jesus. Overbearing much?”
He groans. “Fine, go have fun with your friends.” He shoves his finger through the air in the direction of the house. “But I’m staying here.”
I scoff. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I won’t be up your ass, but you’re not staying here by yourself.” His tone is half-calm, half-bossy. “When you’re done having fun, I’ll take you back to your dorm.”
“Carolina!”
This time, it’s my name being called out from the porch. Also, this time, Rex and I both look at the porch. Margie is standing next to the girl who has been looking for Rex.
Margie’s head turns to Rex. “Rex! Piss off! I need my partner back. We had a good winning streak going on.”
I use this as a quick exit plan.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, rushing away from him and scurrying up the porch steps, stumbling a bit in my heels.
Margie grins when I make it to her.
Rex calls out my name, and I don’t look back while following Margie into the house.
I’m being watched.
I hate being watched.
Rex’s whiskey-colored eyes have been burning into me since he returned to the house with a scowl on his face and leaned back against the wall, giving him the perfect view of the kitchen. He sips on his beer while focusing on me, as if I’m his favorite show. Holey black jeans hang low on his waist, and he’s sporting gray slip-on Chucks and a black leather jacket over a blue tee. A light scruff covers his cheeks and strong jaw, and his toffee-colored hair is messily pushed back.
Rex Lane doesn’t look anything like a man who plays video games on the regular.
Margie and I have continued to play beer pong, but luckily, our opponents are getting drunker, so we don’t have to drink as much.
I fight the urge to stare back at him and am proud of myself for only stealing quick glances every few minutes. My heart nearly stops during one of these peeks. I miss my shot, startled at the sight of the skinny blonde from the porch standing in front of him, her back to me. He’s sharing his attention between her and me now, and I clench my fist around the ball. When it’s my turn, I can’t stop myself from hurling the ball across the room, my aim directed at him.
It lands at his feet. Blondie spins to glare at me, and I only shrug. Rex shakes his head, raising a brow, fully aware my cup miss wasn’t an accident.
I look away when Margie taps my shoulder. “Carolina, stop playing dodgeball with Blondie and get your ass over there to claim your man.”
I force a laugh, a sick feeling in my stomach. “He’s not my man.”
“He comes to our dorm enough that someone would think he’s your man. He dragged you out of this party, claiming you as his.”
“Or he thinks he’s my father.”
I grit my teeth as the girl lifts on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, her hand caressing his jaw. He nods, as if he were listening, but his eyes are back on me.
“I say, you go punch him in the balls for even entertaining her,” Margie comments.
My shoulders slump. “He’s my best friend.”
She scoffs. “You need to quit being blind if you think you’re only friends.”
My eyes water when Rex’s attention leaves me longer than it has all night as he offers the girl a flirtatious smile. He’s nodding, laughing at what she’s saying, and she steps in closer, their bodies nearly rubbing against each other. I’m well aware Rex has an active sex life, but when he’s with me, he’s with me.
Blondie kissing the side of his mouth is my undoing.
“I’m out of here,” I say. “I’ll Uber home.”
I can’t stop myself from looking at them again. Blondie’s arm is wrapped around his neck now.
“No, I’ll get Kara,” Margie says. “She’s the DD tonight, so she’s probably ready to dip anyway. No one likes their DD nights.”
I nod, tapping the side of my eyes to stop crying. Rex will probably take Blondie home tonight and screw her brains out. I shut my eyes when memories of the night he screwed me push through my mind. Even though I’d sworn it wouldn’t change anything, I’ll never forget every way he touched me and how my body responded. I’d had other guys touch me, finger me, but no one has ever made me feel as good as Rex did.
It was like he knew me in every way.
In my perfect world, I’d be kissing his mouth. He’d be taking me back to his place. We’d spend the rest of the night naked in his bed.
Too bad my world isn’t perfect.
Margie takes my hand, and we walk outside.
“I told you I was taking you home, Carolina!” Rex yells behind me when we hit the sidewalk and walk toward Kara’s Honda Civic.
“I told you I’m riding with my friends,” I reply without looking back at him. I know him well enough to know he’s following me.
Margie whips us around, and Rex is only inches away, the streetlight shining over us.
“Look, Rex, she’s hanging out with her girlfriends tonight. We need to gossip about what a dumbass you’re being. I promise to take good care of her.”
“I know how to take care of her better than anyone,” he snaps, but he’s not looking at Margie. He’s looking at me.
Guilt creeps through my blood at the torture on his face. I want to pull away from Margie and let Rex take me home, but I have to stop depending on him. I can’t sit at home on Friday nights when he’s busy and sulk about it. We’re in college now, and our relationship has changed.
“Rex,” I say around a sigh. “I’m going straight back to the dorm.”
He shuts his eyes, defeat covering his features. “Text me when you get back then. I’ll be at your doorstep if I don’t hear back from you in an hour.”
“Uh, stalker much?” Kara cuts in behind us.
I didn’t even notice she’d stopped with us.
“Uh, best friend much?” Rex says, mocking her voice without even giving her a glance. He tips his head down and kisses my forehead. “I hope you had fun tonight, Lina babe. Text me next time you go out, but you’re not wearing that fucking dress, FYI.”
“Hater,” Margie sings out. “Don’t get mad at other guys for wanting something you’re too chicken to touch.”
He slams his mouth shut, fighting to control his smart-ass response. His palm falls at the base of my back as he walks us to Kara’s car, and he stands in place as we pull away.
Is he going back to the party?
To Blondie?
I clench my fingers in my lap, just thinking about it.
“We need to make a quick pit stop at the grocery store,” Margie demands from the front seat. “We need snacks on snacks on snacks.”
“I agree!” Kara says.
“I can definitely use some ice cream,” I add.
Kara drives us to the small convenience store on campus, and we get out, laughing.
“You’re on ice cream duty,” Margie instructs me. She points at Kara. “You’re potato chips.” She points at herself with her thumb. “And I’m on candy.”
“Got it,” I say, and we all head in the direction of our items.
My stomach growls when I hit the ice cream aisle, and I scan the endless choices. I’m in the middle of narrowing down my options to three when I jump at the sound of the masculine voice.
“You’re sure out late, and by the way, you look gorgeous.”
I put my hand against my chest, startled, and smile when I see the familiar man. Familiar as in I’ve seen him plenty of times around campus, but not familiar enough that we’ve had a conversation. He looks hot, wearing a green shirt and fitted black sweatpants—nothing like I’ve seen him in before. His short brown hair is wet as though he’s just gotten out of the shower.
My cheeks blush, and I look down to hide the cheesy smile on my face. “I think it should be the other way around.” I gain control of myself and meet his eyes again. They’re a light blue, round, and I could stare at them forever. “I should comment that you’re out late.” I nervously laugh. “I’m a college student. It’s code to stay out late.”
Okay, not usually mine, but whatever.
He returns the laugh and nods toward the freezer. “Looks like we both had an ice cream craving tonight.”
I nod. “Sure did. There’s no better way to end the day than with ice cream.”
He turns to consider his options and steps closer to me. “What’s your favorite?”
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as a favorite ice cream. Bad question to ask someone.”
He peeks down at me, his upper lip curling into a smirk, and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “It isn’t a bad question. In fact, it’s your typical first-date question.”
“I haven’t had many first dates to actually know if that’s a fact or something you just made up.”
“Oh, come on.” He bumps his shoulder against mine. “An extremely smart and gorgeous girl like you? I doubt that.”
“Eh, I prefer to study.” It shocks me that I feel so comfortable in his presence. I’m normally not into small talk, and I never thought I’d be so chill talking to this man—a man I’ve heard so many girls on campus drool over.
“You going to tell me your favorite, or do I need to ask you out on a first date to get my answer?”
I snort. “Good one.”
“I’m serious, Carolina.”
This time, when I peer up at him, there’s no smirk on his face.
“Are you sure …” I gulp, lowering my voice. “Are you sure that’s appropriate?”
“Probably not, but I’m good at keeping secrets.” He reaches across me, his arm brushing against my chest, and opens the freezer door. “Now, choose your favorite for me and tell me when you’re free.”
I hesitate, wondering if I’m batshit crazy. “Okay.” My answer comes out in a whisper.
Why not? Maybe I need to step out of my box with other people.
I’m fighting back a smile as I dip underneath his arm, grab a mint chocolate chip, and hand it to him. I rest my back against the freezer when he shuts the door behind me. He tucks the ice cream under his armpit and leans into me, his lips close to mine.
“Carolina!”
We both pull back at Margie yelling my name from the next aisle. “What are you, milking the cow over there? Pick something, and let’s go!”
“Give me your number,” he rushes out, tugging his phone from his pocket.
A smile is smothered across my face as I give it to him.
“You’d better get back to your friend,” he says, reaching out and skimming his hand over my jaw. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”
Oh my God.
Swoon.
I keep my back against the freezer door, watching him as he disappears down the aisle, and then grab the ice cream. We load up on snacks and go back to the dorm.
As soon as I change into my pajamas and take a giant bite of ice cream, my phone beeps with a text.
Unknown Number: You’re right. Mint chocolate chip is the best. When are you available?
I grin, shove my spoon in the container, and hurriedly text back.
Me: Friday night?
Unknown Number: Perfect.
Maybe this girl needs to change her college life.
Try something exciting.
I almost put my phone on the charger and finish my ice cream before crashing, but then I remember I need to text Rex. There’s no doubt he’ll show up here if I don’t.
Me: I’m home, safe and sound.
My Main Man: Good. I apologize if I was being an ass tonight.
Me: It’s okay.
My Main Man: Good night, babe. Love you.
Me: Night. Love you, too.