“I’m glad to hear it. But don’t you think you ought to give your friends a call to let them know?” “Oh. Yeah, of course. But my phone’s dead. Can I borrow yours?” Embarrassingly enough, he’d bewitched her to the point that she’d forgotten all about the event, Dr. Dunne, Carolyn, and even Ryan Langford, whose rear end she was supposed to be kissing right now. He returned in a moment with a phone, a high-end model that probably cost way more than hers. His cell phone wallpaper was an abstract artwork with lots of colorful circles and blots—Kandinsky, maybe, or Miro? She always got those two confused. She gave him points for not having a picture of some scantily-clad woman thrusting her boobs at the camera, like Steve had on his phone. Tacky. Nude-woman wallpapers were the cell phone equivalent of silver naked-lady mud flaps, in her opinion. She dialed Carolyn’s number. “Hey, Carolyn. It’s me.”
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