Simple Affair

A week goes by, and this weekend proves to be the same as the last. Josh is working the entire weekend again. I miss him. I miss us. He works so hard, and he is doing it to help us but at the same time even though it is for us, we hardly see each other. I can’t stand to be alone, especially on the weekend and I already work forty hours a week, I don’t have it in me to work a second job like Josh does. I never asked him to work a second job. We could get by without him taking on a second job, but he insisted. He wanted to do this, and I couldn’t persuade him to relax on his days off so this weekend, I find myself back up at camp to spend time with my mom and dad.
I woke up all snuggled up in bed, with my parent’s Chihuahua keeping me company this morning. I reached over for my phone that was charging on the shelf. I don’t know why I feel the urge to check my phone. My friends are all busy with their own young families. It is unlikely that they would reach out, and besides the only people that would send me a message in the night or early in the morning would be my parents, who I am with or Josh and there is nothing. I decided to work on my author image, and I make the effort to be social on social media. I read the message in my inbox, and it’s from him, Devon Chambers, the person I chatted with last week. I recognized his photo and his name. I realize that I forgot to look at his work, and now he might ask about it. I reply, “Hey, how are you?”
Devon responds, “I am good. It’s a bright sunny day where I am. Are you up at camp this weekend?”
I’m surprised by his attention to detail. “Yes, just spending time up at camp with Mom and Dad.”
He asks, “Oh, that must be nice. What are your plans for today?”
I think quickly and come up with a lie, not wanting to admit that I haven’t read his work yet. “I’ve been having problems with getting Wattpad to download. I haven’t read your sample yet, but I plan to.” I feel guilty for making these promises I may not keep.
I wait for his response, and he replies, “That’s okay. I want to tell you something, and I hope it doesn’t bother you.”
Curiosity piques within me, and I reply, “Okay.” Is he going to comment on my own book?
He continues, “I hope you don’t think any differently of me. There’s a scene I’m writing, an intimate scene, and I hope that when you read it, it doesn’t change your opinion of me.”
What could he possibly be referring to? I hope he hasn’t written something disturbing, a tinge of worry creeping in. I responded cautiously, “As long as it’s not something bizarre like, you know, strange fetishes or… eating each other’s poop, I’ll be fine. Please don’t tell me it’s anything messed up.” I held my breath, awaiting his reply, feeling the weight of anticipation, and nibbling at my nails.
He chuckled and reassured me, “Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just a good old-fashioned passionate encounter. It’s intimate and it’s been my fantasy.” I let out a sigh of relief; he still sounded like a regular guy. “Alright, that sounds acceptable. I’m actually looking forward to reading it,” I replied, a hint of curiosity piqued. Suddenly, I wondered if I could access Wattpad with the spotty reception we had at camp. My phone was both a blessing and a curse – convenient yet frustrating at times. Despite the odds, I managed to search for the app, and it loaded onto my screen. What a relief!
“Devon?” I asked, eager to share my progress.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I got Wattpad! I’m trying to find you. Did you use a pen name?”
“Yes, try searching for D. Chambers.”
I located his sample and exclaimed, “Great, I found it!”
“Awesome. I’ll make sure to find yours too. I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Devon. I’ll write a review once I’m finished.”
“Sounds good. I promise to do the same.”
“Alright then, I’ll let you get back to your day. Talk to you later.”
“Okay, bye.”
I put down my phone after looking at his profile picture; he is pretty cute with his short brown hair, brown eyes, and clear complexion. He has that confidant masculine look to him, which is hot in my books. I wonder what he is like in person. Anyway, it’s not like anything would come of it. I am married. I think he likes me; I can’t put my finger on it, but I sense something and it’s a nice feeling to know that I still have it.
The day passes by just as last weekend, which is a welcomed and loved routine with my parents. After dinner, I share a couple of drinks with Mom in the camper. We laugh together, talk, and eventually settle down for a bit. I pull out my phone to check Twitter as my mom fills her glass from a box of wine.
“I can’t believe the number of people following you,” Devon’s message popped up. I couldn’t help but smirk, sharing his surprise. It was inexplicable—I had amassed thousands of followers, gaining between thirty and fifty each day.
Deciding to respond, I typed, “Yeah, it’s funny how it works. Once you hit a thousand, something changes. More people seem interested and willing to follow along.”
A few moments passed without a reply from Devon. It didn’t surprise me; his previous comment seemed to have been sent earlier in the day. Lost in my thoughts, my mom interrupted my daydreaming. “Hey, who are you talking to, Jordan?”
“Just my Twitter peeps, Mom,” I replied with a chuckle.
She laughed and inquired, “How many do you have now?”
“Over six thousand,” I beamed, amazed by the number. I didn’t even know six thousand people personally: maybe four hundred at most. I realized that in the grand scheme of things, six thousand was just a fraction, but for someone like me who was just starting out, it was a great start.
Amused, she asked, “Why do you think they’re following you? You’re not famous or anything.”
I shrugged and replied, “I don’t know, Mom. I tweet messages every day. Maybe they like what I have to say?”
Curiosity piqued, she suggested, “Have you ever asked them why they follow you? It’s not like you’re a celebrity or anything.” She said it playfully, fueled by a few glasses of wine. I chuckled at her lighthearted remark.
“No, I haven’t. Would you like me to ask them?” I huffed jokingly.
“Sure, Jordan.”
Devon still hadn’t responded to my previous comment, but I decided to ask him anyway. I trusted that he understood my personality and wouldn’t take offense. Sometimes, conversations with unfamiliar people could lead to misunderstandings. Intentions behind light-hearted remarks might be misconstrued. I believed Devon was the right person to provide an insightful answer.
“Hey, I have a question for you. I’m not drunk or anything—well, I did have a couple of glasses of wine with my mom—but I need to ask you something.” I clicked send.
Looking up at my mom, she inquired, “So, what did they say?”
“I just asked the question. They might be away from their computers. Oh, wait, I have a message.”
A surge of joy filled me as I saw Devon’s reply. “Hey Jordan, ask away,” he responded, accompanied by a smiley face.
With a mix of excitement and caution, I typed my question, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret my intentions. “My mom and I are curious to know why you’re following me. We just can’t wrap our heads around how I have so many followers.” Fingers crossed, I hit send, praying my instincts were right and I wouldn’t come across as conceited.
Amidst my nervous anticipation, Devon’s lighthearted response brought a smile to my face. “Drinking, are we? I’m laughing. Well, I followed you because we’re both writers; it seems we share the same interests.”
Relieved by his friendly explanation, I looked up at my mom and exclaimed, “I have an answer!”
She leaned forward, her green eyes meeting my blue ones, and asked eagerly, “Do tell.”
Reading Devon’s response aloud, I realized our conversation wasn’t over yet. He had his own question, “Why are you following me?”
“I followed you back for the same reasons,” I replied. “I try to follow back people who follow me.”
Devon expressed his flattery, smoothly adding, “I’m honestly flattered that someone as beautiful as you is following me. You’re quite popular here on Twitter.”
His words made me smile, and I responded, “Thank you, Devon. From your photo, you seem like quite a catch. And about the popularity, I actually don’t receive a lot of interaction even though I reach out to people. Many of them are fellow artists, and their tweets are mostly promotional.”
“Why thank you! I’m smiling,” Devon replied. “Yes, Twitter can be that way. I seem to be stuck at the four-hundred follower mark, and none of them really engage. You’re the only one I talk to here.”
“Likewise,” I chimed in. “I have some light-hearted conversations, but you’re the person I talk to the most.”
Devon’s response warmed my heart. “I’m so flattered. I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time.”
“Not at all,” I reassured him. “I enjoy talking to you, and I always make time for things that bring me happiness.”
“You seem like a genuinely wonderful person, inside and out. I’m grateful that we stumbled upon each other,” Devon confessed.
I couldn’t help but agree, feeling a sense of connection with this stranger. “Yes, me too. Well, as much as I hate to cut this short, I’m with family right now, so I need to go be social. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, have a great night,” Devon replied.
As I put my phone down, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions, like a teenager crushing on someone they barely know. It made no sense, yet here I was, developing feelings over a few light-hearted texts. I had to shake off these thoughts.
Mom broke the silence, suggesting, “I think Dad and your uncle have built a campfire. I see some light over there. Do you want to walk over and see what everyone else is doing?”
Smiling, I replied, “Yes, let’s go be social.”
The weekend went by, and I read Devon's work. His main character is a woman. This guy has to be off the market. My guess is his main character is based on a girlfriend. It must be, she has too much spunk and the feel of a real person with having likes, quirks, and a personality. His character does not fall flat. I find a lot of authors struggle with characters of the opposite sex, but this guy seems to have this girl down. I will need to ask him whenever we talk next. I am glad that I gave his book a chance and think I learned something about him by reading the sample.
After this weekend I do not forget my Twitter friend’s name, Devon, sounds strong and he has a fire in his eye, I wonder how old he is? He must be taken and that is okay because what I am feeling with this little crush is nothing because it is only texts. Anyway, back to reality and I return home from camp to Josh.