The Real

Cameron’s Mac: Already?

Abbie’s Mac: Yep. This is how we, meaning you and me, coffee. Just like this, behind our keyboards.

Cameron’s Mac: Coffee as a verb? I like it. But no talking?

I lifted my finger in a plea to have him hear me out as it came to me.

Abbie’s Mac: Here’s the way I see it. First, I don’t know if you are interested in . . . more than coffee.

Cameron’s Mac: I’m very interested in . . . more than coffee. But I’m okay if it’s just coffee too.

Abbie’s Mac: I’m old school. And I’m pretty pissed off about this whole technology hookup crap being the new standard. I’m no prude, but it’s like I woke up from a monogamous nap and romance died. What happened to getting to know a person before you showed your pink parts? I was serious when I told you I’d been blasted with dick pics. I have proof.

Cameron’s Mac: So, you saved the dick pics? You little pervert.

My mouth dropped. “No, that’s—”

“Shhh,” Cameron pointed to the keyboard.

Abbie’s Mac: Like I said, I’m not looking for romance in the ankles-covered, Pride and Prejudice sense, though Mr. Darcy did set the standard for me when I was twelve. I don’t have to have Mr. Darcy, but at the very least a cheesy 90s rom-com, overt type of gesture. I just think this whole digital age has ruined romance. I don’t have the millennial mindset. Think about it, when’s the last time you saw a couple holding hands, or for that matter, some inappropriate PDA? Aside from my friends, Bree and Anthony, I can’t remember the last time I saw a couple and envied their connection. It’s so fucking sad.

Cameron’s Mac: I get what you’re saying. It’s cool. And your maiden virtue is safe with me for the moment. I’m a little bit jaded too. And by the looks of your cup, I’m already in over my head.

I lifted my mug proudly that read Man Tears and took a sip.

He shook his head with a chuckle as we tried to speak around our connection. The force was strong with this one, and I knew he felt it too.

Cameron’s Mac: But you do have to admit for someone so adamant about old school, this arrangement makes your point a bit moot.

Abbie’s Mac: Touché. But, you see, I’m using it to our advantage.

Cameron’s Mac: Your advantage.

Abbie’s Mac: Fine my advantage. Mixing old school with new. I look at it this way. We get all the perks of seeing each other, knowing what the other looks like. We get clear visual reception, but we keep it like this.

Cameron’s Mac: Until?

Abbie’s Mac: Until we’re both less jaded. And let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it’s only coffee. I mean, today it’s only coffee. Tomorrow . . .

I shrugged to bring the point home. I was being completely honest, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Cameron’s Mac: Suits me. You could have a voodoo doll in your purse.

This time I held nothing back as I gave him my smile. We exchanged them for several seconds before I got a message.

Cameron’s Mac: Are we allowed to give compliments?

I didn’t get a chance to answer.

Cameron’s Mac: Because if I was standing, that smile would have knocked me on my ass. What’s the next rule?

Despite my newly speeding heartbeat, I pressed on. If I had any shot of moving forward, I didn’t want to look back. And I didn’t want my fears hindering anything new.

Abbie’s Mac: We leave our relationship baggage at the door.

He studied me for a moment before he typed.

Cameron’s Mac: Nothing but who we are now, at this moment, and where we’re going, or where we want to go.