Numbers || Andy Biersack

chapter three

After giving Andy my phone number, he texted me that night and I was instantly entranced by his digital words. My phone was constantly buzzing, every message sending my heart racing. We talked about everything and nothing. Our messages were a series of flirtation and banter. Whenever the topic neared personal, Andy would change the subject. It was like he had this secretive boundary that I wasn't allowed to cross. 

"Who is that?" my mom asked one day during dinner. Andy was particularly chatty tonight and my phone was buzzing in succession. I had to fight the urge every moment to unlock it and read his latest message. My mom had this big rule about no phones at the table, so I could only check it discreetly beneath the cover of the tablecloth occasionally.

"Just someone I met at a concert the other night," I replied vaguely.

"A boy someone?" my mother questioned curiously.

"Of course not," I lied with a laugh. "You know boys never pay me any attention."

"Yes, they do," she insisted. "They just don't have the confidence to approach you. You're too beautiful."

I rolled my eyes, and dinner continued on.

Usually, Andy and I's messages stayed fairly appropriate. Occasionally, he'd say something suggestive, but it ended as soon as it began, until one night it didn't. 

"What are you wearing? ;)" Andy texted as I was lying in bed. I nearly dropped my phone in surprise when I read the text message. 

Andy was sext-ing me. They talked to my class about that in sex ed freshman year, warning us of the consequences and dangers. At the time, I'd sworn I would never do something so risky. However, I'd also convinced myself in freshman year that I'd save myself until marriage, and we know how that turned out. 

Despite the discomfort that seemed to fill me as I read the message over and over again, I tried to muster a response. Andy thought I was a mature 18 year old, and that's how he made me feel. However, if I chickened out at the mere thought of sexting, he'd probably want nothing to do with me. With a deep breath, I began typing on my touch-screen keyboard, "Just a tank top, panties, and thigh high socks."

In reality, I was wearing my pink flannel pajama pants with teddy bears all over and an oversized gymnastics t-shirt. However, Andy couldn't know that. Mere seconds later, I received a reply. "So fucking hot. I want you so bad."

My hands shook as I replied back, the messages getting more and more intimate. I was nervous and terrified, but at the same time, I got this rebellious thrill from the whole thing. It was fun, in a way. Andy would tell me how hard he was, and I'd get this little kick out of it. It was nice to know I had that effect on Andy.

When it reached one in the morning on a school night, I texted Andy, "I'm so tired. Gonna fall asleep tbh."

"K sweet dreams, babe. I'll talk to you tomorrow," Andy replied. And not only did he call me "babe," he also added a kissy face emoji. It was so stupid. It was just an emoji. However, the little yellow symbol sent my heart soaring. My exhaustion faded and I was lying in bed with this huge silly grin spread across my lips. I let out a girly giggle, feeling so impossibly in like with Andy. I'd never felt like this with any other guy. It was like every time Andy looked at me or talked to me or anything, my heart was ready to burst out of my chest. He made me stupid, but he also made me feel so perfect.  He was like a drug that I was hopelessly addicted to. 

Three nights passed in this fashion. Things grew so comfortable. Suddenly, Andy and I were throwing around "babe" and "cutie" like they were nothing. It was so nice that I'd nearly forgotten about Andy possibly having a girlfriend. It was a pretty big thing to overlook, but that's the effect Andy had on me. I still didn't really know if he even had one, or who she was. I'd thought about googling it, but every time I attempted it, fear and apprehension had me closing the browser window. Maybe it was best not to know. I could just keep living in this blissful drama-free place.