Sext God

“Ah, poor grasshopper. You don't get it. I did not put your face on there. Nobody knows whose tits those are. You're going to get your meeting with Kirkman, one way or another. No one will know that it’s you. It's genius!”

“It's not even going to work!” I gasp. “This is insane!”

She shakes her head slowly, as though pitying me. “It's not insane. It's already working. You have one follower… check who it is.”

I scowl at the front page of the app, scrolling up and down. She's right. Somehow I immediately have one follower.

@augustberner

August. It's August.

My mouth hangs open. My tongue goes dry.

“What am I supposed to do?” I whisper hoarsely.

Bunny rolls her eyes dramatically. “Follow him back so you can message him, dummy.”

I tap on his profile, then tap on the Follow button.

“Now what?”

She shrugs. “Think of what you want to say. You just got an incognito account, totally secret, and connected with the hottie you’ve been wet-dreaming about for the last three years. Get crazy, girl!”

“Oh my God… so we’re connected? Me and August?”

I hold the phone out to her so she can see the little notification. She nods tightly, as though this is all going according to her plan.

I’m totally lost.

“Yeah I figured tagging Kirkman would alert him, but that was even quicker than I expected. Looks like your cleavage did the trick!”

Unconsciously I tighten my shirt over my neckline, still feeling pretty violated that she just snapped a picture of me like that. I’m not sure I like this feeling. I’m being swept away.

“Now what do I do?”

“Jeez!” she barks, frustrated. “You’re like a kindergartner. You message him!”

“But what do I—”

Her hand darts out, snatching the phone away from me. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she starts typing but won’t let me see. Next to me on the counter, her phone starts ringing and a picture of her mother pops up.

“Get that for me, will you?” she mutters distractedly as she scowls and types some more with her thumbs. “Just tell her I’m home. I forgot I was supposed to text her.”

“What are you saying to him?”

“Oh, and tell her I took the chicken out of the freezer!” she barks, turning away toward the fridge and opening the freezer door with her pinkie.

Carefully I pick up Bunny’s phone, thumbing the green button to connect the call. Her mom starts talking before I even lift the phone to my ear.

“Actually, it’s Dahlia,” I mumble, trying to interrupt.

But she just keeps talking. I start nodding absentmindedly, interjecting with affirmative noises to keep her happy. She's had a hard day at work and wants to vent about it a little bit before she comes home for dinner. Her boss is a jerk. Everything is late. Why can't the world just be a little bit easier, you know?

I snap my fingers in Bunny’s general direction and she glances over her shoulder at me as she's typing away on my phone. My stomach turns, threatening to make me sick. That bright pink wine is suddenly acidic and foul in my belly.

“Okay, okay,” I tell her mom as she winds up her rambling monologue. Finally she disconnects the call.

Bunny turns my phone over and places it triumphantly on the counter next to her.