The very first thing I did the next morning when I opened my eyes was reach for my phone. I briefly chided myself for it — what was I, a lovestruck teenager? — but I was instantly distracted by a new message from Noah, delivered not long after I'd texted him that I'd come home safe and then gone straight to bed, falling asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
Noah: Thanks for letting me know. I enjoyed seeing you tonight, Emma. Sweet dreams.
Should I answer? Should I wait a few hours, maybe, play it cool? But then just as I was debating what to do, the app indicated that he was typing. As if he could smell that I was reading his message.
Noah: Good morning. Slept well?
If any other guy had double texted me, I might have considered it a red flag. Too eager. Too interested. Too impatient. But Noah… Noah could double text, and not think twice about it. Noah probably knew that he could do whatever he wanted and he would still have women falling at his feet.
I counted to five, and then my thumb flew over the touchscreen keyboard.
Emma: Like a baby. You?
His reply came lightning-fast.
Noah: Terribly. I couldn't stop thinking about you.
I stared at the message. No one, not even my ex-boyfriend, had ever said anything like that to me. Certainly not after only one date. Half a date, really.
My alarm rudely interrupted my thoughts — I'd woken up a few minutes before it rang, as always — and I sighed to myself. Time to get out of bed and get ready for work. I showered, performing a quiet but heartfelt rendition of Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive to myself and hopefully not to my downstairs neighbors, and threw on clothing as fast as I could while forcing myself not to look at my phone. I could do this. I could be patient, I could focus on getting to work on time, and I could take the time I needed to think of an eloquent and flirtatious response to that text.
As it turned out, I didn't need to. Once I was stirring my apple oatmeal and allowed myself a look at my phone, I saw that he had already sent another message, one that was a lot easier to answer while I sat down to eat my breakfast.
Noah: What are you up to today?
Emma: Just work. I won't bore you with the details.
Noah: You could never bore me, Emma.
I smiled. He was good. But two could play this game; I could be funny and sarcastic and flirty. Even over text. Especially over text.
Emma: You barely know me. What if it turns out I have a huge stamp collection and no friends?
Noah: I'd say you're a liar, one way or the other, because you've already told me about your friends.
Noah: And I'd be stoked to see that ridiculous collection. If it's yours, it can't be boring.
Emma: Kiss-ass.
Oh, shit. I'd been so distracted by our text conversation that I hadn't even noticed the time. I dropped my phone on the table — thank god for its protective cover — and leaped to the bathroom to run a toothbrush through my mouth. I pulled my shoes on, grabbed my bag, and was already halfway out the door when I realized I'd forgotten my charger. I would definitely need that today, if Noah and I were going to keep this up. A new message had already come in, but I really needed to rush now — I didn't see it until I was safely crammed on the bus between all the other commuters.
Noah: You flatter me.
Emma: Do you want me to flatter you?
Noah: I thought you'd never ask. Am I supposed to pick up on a hidden meaning here?
Emma: So you're a kiss-ass AND a degenerate.
Noah: I pride myself on it. The latter part, that is.
Emma: You would.
Noah: I thought you said we barely knew each other.
Emma: I said you barely know ME. You know I've read about you.
Noah: You seem to have an unfair advantage over me. I'll have to rectify that. Dinner this Wednesday?
The butterflies in my stomach went wild. Another date? This quickly? Dinner? What had I even done to get him this interested in me? This is where you play it cool, Em, I thought to myself, took a deep breath, and looked at Noah's newest message.
Noah: I'll cook you the best gnocchi you've ever had.
Emma: That's easy. I've never had gnocchi. It would also be the worst :)
Noah: Is that a yes?
Was it? I wasn't exactly sure if it was a good idea to go over to the house of a man I objectively barely knew on only the second date. As if he read my mind, another message came in.
Noah: If you have a halfway decent kitchen, I'll happily come over to yours.
Emma: Okay. Wednesday, my place it is. 6:30?
Noah: It's a date. See you then.