Night Owl(3)

Hell, I'd be having second thoughts about me.

Her writing was perfectly normal, though.

Our characters were traveling to a port city in search of information to help Lana harness her powers. I could feel my character falling for Lana as we wrote. I tried to steer him away from it, but Hannah wrote the girl in such a clever, engaging way. She was quirky and strong, a lover of laughter, by turns tomboyish and then disarmingly feminine.

Hannah. Lana.

I began to make connections.

She described Lana as buxom, short, and curvy. An hourglass figure. Was Hannah writing a thinly veiled version of herself? And for that matter, was I? Like me, Cal was tall and fair-haired, cynical in the extreme, and neurotically secretive.

I booted up my laptop a week after the bathrobe incident with the intention of continuing our story. Or maybe with the intention of chatting with Hannah. I missed her.


That's when I saw the email from [email protected].

The email with her picture.

The picture that made me hard.

Subject: Come back...

Sender: Hannah Catalano

Date: Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Time: 11:15 PM

Matt, hey. I really hope you read this. You haven't replied to my post. I miss the story. And I miss talking to you.

I can't stop thinking about what happened.

I met Mick through WoW (I'm a reformed nerd) and we cybered like twice over private messages. He's a really bad writer. It was really bad. Then we started dating long distance and I used to do things with him over video chat. That's all.

I don't know why I'm telling you this stuff, except that I want you to know that what happened between us isn't normal for me. I liked it though. Knowing you were getting off turned me on.

Speaking of Mick, I'm leaving him. My sister is flying out here on Thursday to help me pack and we're driving back together. I'm moving in with my parents for a while. Pretty awesome, since I'm 27.

I guess the point is, we'll be on the road for two or three days and I'll only be online on my phone.

Hannah

* * *

After jerking off to Hannah's picture like a desperate juvenile, I must have reread her email three times. I mentally filed the new information.

Hannah has a sister.

Hannah is twenty-seven.

Hannah is leaving her boyfriend.

Hannah liked helping me get off; she can't stop thinking about it and it turned her on.

And now she had a face and a name, both of which I expressly asked never to know.

Hannah Catalano.

So she was Italian. That explained the knockout figure and the dark, heavy hair.

I logged onto Skype.

Night.Owl: Hey.

Little.Bird: Hey! That was quick, lol. I sent you an email like fifteen minutes ago.

Night.Owl: Don't I know it.

Little.Bird: Haha...

Night.Owl: Let's get one thing straight Hannah. I'm not sure what you think it means that you helped me get off with your rudimentary descriptive skills, so let me clarify. It means nothing. It definitely does not mean you can now assault me with your life story.

Little.Bird: Wow. Wow...

Night.Owl: Use your words.

Little.Bird: You... are such an * right now.

Night.Owl: You say this like it's news.

Little.Bird: It's news to me. God, I'm SO SORRY that I decided to tell you I'd be gone for a few days. We WERE telling a story together basically every day, but since you haven't replied to my last post, I guess that's off.

Night.Owl: It's not off. Don't get all hyperbolic on me Hannah. However, let's pause and consider the distance between 1.) telling me you're going to be MIA for a few days, and 2.) forcing your name AND picture on me.

Little.Bird: ... what?

Night.Owl: Yes, shocking but true. Our minor indiscretion does not suddenly negate my wish to preserve mutual privacy. No full names, no pictures, etc.

Little.Bird: Wtf. I didn't send you my picture. Or tell you my name.

Night.Owl: Okay [email protected].

Little.Bird: omg

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. Maybe I had been a little harsher than necessary, but I got my point across. I was angry. I was angry with Hannah for plaguing my thoughts, and angrier that she was gorgeous and forced me to know it.

Somehow, my life would be easier if I could imagine Hannah as a fat pimply stranger on the internet, or even a faceless stranger on the internet. Anything but that dark-haired beauty blowing a kiss at me with her pink, pouty lips.

Five minutes passed and Hannah said nothing.

I fiddled with the desk calendar.

Night.Owl: Do you have anything to add to that stirring articulation?

Nothing.

I opened my email, then opened Hannah's email. Her account picture had changed. Gone was the tiny portrait of Hannah Catalano, replaced by a purplish swirl of galaxy and stars.

Panic chilled me.

It was gone. Her picture was gone.

I clicked on the galaxy and it took me to a larger picture... of the galaxy.

Already I couldn't remember the details of Hannah's face.

Night.Owl: What the f*ck. You just changed your account picture? You do realize I have already seen it...

Little.Bird: Matt, I am so, so sorry. I know you're never going to believe me, but this is the truth. I emailed you from my main account by accident. I am so embarrassed right now, I want to die. I would never infringe on your boundaries like that. God, everything's been so insane in my life lately. I was worried I'd scared you off. I sat down to write you an email, and bang.