My Life as a Walter Boy [Sequel to MLWTWB]

This is the sequel to My Life With The Walter Boys. If you have not read it, then this story will not make any sense. The book trailer for the first novel is on the side. Go check it out now!

Also, please note that this story is only a poorly written rough draft.

Recap: 

“Goodbye Jackie,” Cole called as I turned in the direction of the truck.

“See you in about four months. You better get me a good Christmas present,” I responded, looking back over my shoulder. No goodbyes. This wasn’t goodbye.

He nodded his head and flashed me a small smile.

With that, I focused my eyes on the truck and didn’t look back around. It was time to go home.

 4 ½ Years Later.

Clicking on the blue envelope, I opened the last email of the day. My eyes quickly scanned over the document.

Hello Miss Match Maker!

As you know, it was recently Valentines Day. My boyfriend of two weeks took me out to a wonderful dinner. We shared our first kiss on the dance floor to my favorite love song "I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith. It was really romantic, but after the song ended I swear I heard him whisper, “I love you”. The crowd was applauding loudly and I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t say anything back. The next day my brother (who is my boyfriend’s roommate) told me I had heard him correctly.

Of course, now I am really flipping out, because what if the next time I see him, it’s awkward and he’s angry? I really like this guy, however I think it’s way too early into our relationship to be dropping the L word. How can I stop the situation from getting worse if he says it again!

Thanks,

Totally_Trapped

Yes! I thought to myself. This will be easy to bullshit. A two-year-old could answer this question. I scrambled for my notepad before the forming ideas in my head slipped away.

“Dear Totally_Trapped,” I wrote, reading out loud as I did so. My pen pressed into the yellow lined paper of the notepad as I scribbled a response. For some reason I always had to write out my weekly advice column before typing it out, and handing it over to my editor. The process of seeing the words in my own handwriting helped me think.

It was only five o’clock, and I had just finished reading through the thousands of love related help emails that Miss Match Maker received daily. There was just enough time to throw together a quick rough draft, and slap it on Missy’s desk before I caught the 6 o’clock subway home.

“Truthfully, there is no reason to feel trapped. To get right down to business, unless you and your strapping man have been life long friends, “I love you” probably means something polar opposite after less than a month of dating, compared to the relationship between a happily married couple.

I’m not saying that he doesn’t love you. However, a translation of what he was possibly thinking at the moment is “HOLYFRICKIN’ BANANAS. This totally sexy woman just kissed me and now my johnson is exploding with happiness, and DAMN hormone love rush, whaooo!”

I heard Dana stifle a giggle one cubicle over, so I poked my head around the corner with a smirk splashed across my face. “Amusing so far?” I asked.

Dana rolled her eyes and flipped her long blond hair out of her face. “Everything you write is entertaining Cole. The way you say whatever is on your mind is just so funny.”

With a chuckled I rolled back to my desk, “And that’s why readers keep asking for more, babe. I’m just that hot.”

“It’s not like they know you're a guy. The world thinks Miss Match Maker is a girl,” said Brook, my cubicle buddy. She was one of the only women in the office who hadn’t yet fallen for my irresistible charm. Brook always told me it was because she was engaged with a rock on her finger, and I always responded that she need to get her glasses prescription changed.

“Did you finally just admit that I’m hot?” I asked spinning around in my computer chair. “Did you get contacts or something?” She wasn’t even wearing her bright red, thick-framed glasses today that made her look like a sexy librarian.