“At lunch I turned my phone on to check my messages. Georgia always sent me a few inane texts during the day, and sure enough there were two messages from her: one complaining about her physics teacher and a second, also obviously sent from her phone: I love you, baby. V.I wrote her back: I thought I told you to buzz off last night, you creep-o French stalker guy.Her response came back immediately: As if! Your beet-red cheeks this morning suggest otherwise ... liar! You're so into him.I groaned and was about to turn my phone off when I saw that there was a third text from UNKNOWN. Clicking on it, I read: Can I pick you up from school? Same place, same time?I texted back: How'd you get my number?Called myself from your phone while you were in the restaurant's bathroom last night. Warned you we were stalkers!”

“I flipped open my phone and sent Daniel a text: I love you.As I crawled into bed, my phone beeped with a message back from him: Always.”

“As soon as I wake up, I check my phone, hoping there's a message from you.”

“Ask me again, Tristan read on his cell phone. Ask what? he sent back. Why I call you Sparky. Michael fumbled with the keys, not looking up. Well, sure, why? Tristan sent back. You light me up, came the answer, and Tristan's nimble fingers stopped on the keys. He stared hard at the small screen on his phone, the text message right there, waiting to see if he would send a reply. He just sat and stared till his phone turned off, unable to look up into the oh-so-blue eyes of the man who had sent it.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to have a phone,” he says. “Or was that a really pathetic excuse to avoid giving me your number?”“I’m not allowed. My best friend gave it to me the other day. It can’t do anything but text.” He turns the screen around to face me. “What the hell kindof texts are these?” He turns the phone around and reads one.“Sky, you are beautiful. You are possibly the most exquisite creature in the universe and if anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll cut a bitch.” He archesan eyebrow and looks up at me, then back down to the phone. “Oh, God. They’re all like this. Please tell me you don’t text these to yourself for dailymotivation.”

“[I hear phone sex can work], I sent, [but I kind of doubt text-sex would.]He sent me a picture shot down his pants. I snickered and sent him a picture of my mouth.[autehigixuhi&^%$], he sent back. Then, [yeah, phone sex not satisfying. Also I think I dick-dialed Kentucky.]”