“[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.]”

“Don't leave a message," his voicemail said. "If you do, I might call you back. We could end up communicating, and that would be awkward.”

“[Non-flammable? Challenge accepted.][Alan], I texted, [arson is bad.][It's in the spirit of academic inquiry! It's SCIENCE!] ['Science' is not a legal defense.][Damn them.]”

“He had a talent for asking exactly the right questions to lead me to my own answers. Just being near him made things clearer.”

“He's wearing flannel!" Alan yelped. "He's shoving his straight in my face!”

“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.”

“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.”