I’d always been secretly jealous of my friends who sexted with their boyfriends or random hook ups. In part, my jealousy was admiration. Regardless of the potentially damaging and incriminating things they sent or said, it took real guts to participate and to trust someone with that side of yourself.

Tasha said that I was reading too much into it that it was usually drunken messages that only half made sense and that the sender usually regretted it the next morning. She also suggested I clear my text history every night before bed, so I couldn’t punish myself with the damning evidence the next day. This was the part that gave me pause. What was the point of sexting if I wasn’t going to be able to live out the fantasy? I didn’t want to type up some racy message only to have it forgotten with the morning light.

It was for all of the above reasons that I hadn’t texted Todd back. Some part of me knew that once we started texting it would lead somewhere I wasn’t prepared. Also, Court had told me not to and I was beginning to trust his judgment.

Me: I need help texting.

Court: Looks like you’ve mastered it to me.

Me: You know what I mean – flirty stuff.

Court: You can’t even type the word. Baby steps.

Me: Sexting. I need help sexting.

Rubbing my palms down my legs, I waited for Court’s response. It didn’t come right away and as the seconds turned into a full five minutes, I panicked that I had taken this thing too far. Of course, this gorgeous man didn’t want to teach an inexperienced college kid the art of sending sexy text messages.

As I tossed the phone aside it finally beeped. Lunging, I grabbed the phone and squinted while I opened the message in case it was a full out rejection and Court was cutting ties and ending whatever weird mentorship thing we had going.

Court: Thinking of you…

The words were a blur as I scanned the attached photo. My mouth went dry and my entire body burned with a thousand fires. I was positive it was Court’s body even with the head purposely cropped out. This wasn’t the body of a twenty-two-year-old throwing back wings and beer every night. It was the body of a man who took care of himself and probably worked out more than my sporadic attempts once or twice a month.

It was only when my eyes drifted to the bed he was lying in did I remember it was after midnight. I seemed to have a knack for interrupting his sleep, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as I continued to stare at the photo.

Leaned back on his bed, Court laid on top of crumpled white sheets that provided the perfect backdrop to his naked torso. Abs that shouldn’t be real disappeared into grey sweat pants that were slung low on his hips. While the picture wasn’t provocative in itself, combined with his words and the bed… the whole thing had my body tingling like his message was meant only for me.

I was certain it was a test and that I was meant to respond, but holy crap I couldn’t even get my brain to function enough to make coherent thoughts let alone text.

“Deep breath in and let it out. Deep breath in and let it out,” I chanted quietly as my fingers punched out a response.

Me: Want some company?

I added a winking smiley and pressed send before I could talk myself out of it. His response was embarrassingly fast… and embarrassingly hurtful.

Court: No, never respond with direct questions. Direct questions require answers which takes all the fun out of it. Keep it vague and detached. Try again.

Me: Good thoughts, I hope.

Court: Perfect. That was much better.

Me: Hooray!

Court: Don’t get too excited that was tame.

Me: I’ll take my small win.

Court: Fair enough. Just remember, keep it vague, keep it classy (no vag shots), and only send what you’re comfortable with.

I wanted to ask him about his sexting experience. Did he sext women or did he just know all of this from his younger days? And had women actually texted him photos of their vagina? I decided to steal his advice and keep it vague.

Me: How did you learn all this?

Court: What do you really want to know 8B?

Of course, it was just like him to know I wasn’t being direct.

Me: Are you some sort of player or something? How do you know all this?

Court: Nah, I’m not a player. I just crush a lot.

Court: That was a rap song reference for you, young pup.

Me: I know who Big Pun is and you completely dodged that question and used the radio version. He doesn’t say crush.

Court: Nice catch. No, Bianca I’m not a player. I just prefer casual dating to relationships.

Me: Why?

His response took longer this time and I tried to guess what he’d say next but couldn’t come up with a single reason why he wouldn’t be attached. Court was an enigma. Handsome, successful, smart – how had he not been swooped up by some beautiful woman in the city?

Court: Relationships take a lot of work and I’ve been focused on my job. I don’t have time for another one.

It felt like a bullshit response, but I didn’t pry, and I didn’t text back. I didn’t text Todd either, but instead crawled into bed filled with thoughts of two men.

The next day after classes, I decided to attempt a deliberate run in. After changing into yoga pants and a fitted shirt, I threw on my sneakers and headed out the door. I wasn’t much of a runner or even a jogger, but I could power walk for days and I knew that Todd would be finishing his daily work out about the same time it would take to walk to the courts.

Responding to Todd’s text message today had felt wrong, like I’d waited too long but I didn’t want to wait until our next class together to bump into him either.

I put my earbuds in under the guise of a relaxing walk on a Tuesday afternoon. Fate was on my side and Todd was walking out of the multipurpose building that housed the courts as I came around the corner, putting me in his direct line of vision.

“Bianca, hey.” He lifted a hand and walked over, bypassing his car.

Removing an ear bud, I forced myself to keep my facial expression as unaffected as possible. “Hey, Todd. What a surprise. Just getting out of practice?”

“Yeah. What are you up to? Classes done for the day?”

I nodded. “Just taking a break from studying for a diffey-q test.”

“Killer. It was really good to see you last night. I was bummed you had to leave so early.”

“Sorry about that,” I murmured, and guilt instantly nagged at me for the little white lie.

“Well, hey, some of the guys and I are going to the library tonight at six to study for an anatomy test if you want to come by. I’ll save you a spot on the comfy couch.”

“The one by the bathrooms or the vending machines.”

“Definitely the vending machines.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out on my face. Not because the couch near the vending machine was prime library seating, which it was, but because he’d invited me to hang out for a second night in a row.

“Sounds good.” I tried for nonchalant and moved to put my earbuds back in and walk away, but Todd reached out and grabbed my hand with his larger one. His touch threw me off balance. It was warm, damp – probably sweaty, but it felt… nice.

“You’ll come, right?”

Vague. Keep it vague. Leave him wanting more. I could hear Court’s advice just over the cheerleaders jumping up and down and screaming “be aggressive, b-e aggressive.”

“Y-yeah,” I said softly. “I’ll try to be there.”