Flirty Texts and Casual Interest
1333 Words
Salome was elbow-deep in laundry when her phone buzzed for the third time that morning.
She'd gotten Kai down for his mid-morning nap after a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, and she was trying to tackle the mountain of clothes that had accumulated over the past week. Single motherhood meant laundry was never truly finished—it was just a rotating cycle of clean, dirty, and "I'll deal with it later."
She wiped her hands on her jeans and checked her phone.
Malachi: You mentioned Kai likes dinosaurs. There's a new exhibit at the natural history museum. Thought you might want to know.
Salome's stomach dropped.
She stared at the message, her mind racing. She had mentioned Kai in passing at the club. She'd been careful about that—deliberately careful.
She'd never told Malachi about Kai's dinosaur obsession. She'd never told him anything about her son.
So how did he know?
Her fingers hovered over the phone, a chill running down her spine. The rational part of her brain tried to catch up. Maybe she had mentioned it? Maybe she was misremembering? But no—she was certain. She'd kept that part of her life locked away, separate, untouchable.
Which meant he'd found out some other way.
Which meant he'd been looking.
The thought should have terrified her. It did terrify her, a little. But underneath the fear was something else—a flutter of something that felt dangerously close to flattery. He'd cared enough to find out. He'd paid attention. He'd remembered something she'd never told him.
It was invasive. It was wrong. It was also... kind of romantic, wasn't it?
She pushed the uncomfortable feeling down and typed back.
Salome: That's sweet. We'll have to check it out sometime.
Malachi: This weekend?
She laughed. He wasn't wasting time.
Salome: Slow down, King. We haven't even been on a real date yet.
Malachi: Then let's fix that. Monday. Coffee. Just you and me.
Salome's heart did a little flip. She told herself it was just coffee. Just a casual thing. But her fingers were already typing before her brain could catch up.
Salome: Okay. Monday. But I'm picking the place.
Malachi: Deal.
She set the phone down and went back to folding laundry, but she couldn't stop smiling.
By noon, another message came through.
Malachi: How's your day going?
Salome: Exciting. I'm doing laundry and Kai just discovered he can throw food off his high chair. Living the dream.
Malachi: Sounds chaotic.
Salome: That's one word for it. What about you? Busy day?
Malachi: Always. But I keep thinking about you.
Heat crept up her neck. She bit her lip, trying not to grin like an i***t.
Salome: You're smooth. I'll give you that.
Malachi: I'm honest. There's a difference.
Salome: Is there?
Malachi: Yeah. Smooth is calculated. Honest is just... the truth.
She stared at that message for a long moment. There was something disarming about the way he said things—direct, without pretense. It made her want to believe him, even though she knew better than to trust men who moved this fast.
Salome: Well, I appreciate the honesty.
Malachi: Good. Because I'm going to keep being honest with you.
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she set the phone down and finished folding the laundry, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest.
Around three o'clock, another buzz.
Malachi: You okay? Haven't heard from you in a while.
Salome laughed out loud. It had been three hours. Three hours, and he was checking in like she'd disappeared.
Salome: I'm fine. Just dealing with a toddler meltdown. Kai didn't want to nap.
Malachi: Is he okay?
The question caught her off guard. Most men didn't ask about Kai. Most men didn't care. But Malachi was asking—genuinely asking—if her son was okay.
Salome: Yeah, he's fine. Just tired and cranky. He's down now though.
Malachi: And you? Are you okay?
She paused. That was a different question. Not just about logistics or surface-level stuff. He was asking about her.
Salome: I'm tired. But that's nothing new.
Malachi: You work?
Salome: Freelance graphic design. Mostly from home so I can be with Kai. It's flexible but the pay is inconsistent.
She didn't know why she was telling him this. It felt like oversharing, like giving him information he could use against her. But there was something about the way he asked that made her want to answer honestly.
Malachi: You're talented. I could tell from the way you move, the way you see things.
Salome: You can tell I'm a graphic designer from the way I dance?
Malachi: I can tell you're someone who notices details. Someone who's thoughtful. That translates to everything you do.
She felt her cheeks warm. This was dangerous. This was the kind of thing that made women fall for men they shouldn't fall for.
Salome: You're doing it again.
Malachi: What?
Salome: Being smooth.
Malachi: Being honest.
She smiled and didn't respond, instead getting up to check on Kai, who was still sleeping peacefully in his crib.
By evening, after she'd fed Kai dinner and gotten him ready for bed, her phone buzzed again.
Malachi: What are you doing tonight?
Salome: Putting Kai to bed. Then probably collapsing on the couch.
Malachi: Rough day?
Salome: Just a long one. Single parenting is a lot.
Malachi: You're doing it alone?
There was something in that question—a note of concern, maybe even anger. But it was quickly followed by:
Malachi: You shouldn't have to.
Salome: Well, I do. It's fine. I'm used to it.
Malachi: That doesn't make it fine.
She stared at that message for a long time. He was right. It wasn't fine. It was exhausting and lonely and sometimes she felt like she was drowning. But she'd gotten good at pretending it was fine.
Salome: It's just how things are.
Malachi: Not anymore.
The possessiveness in those three words should have scared her. Instead, it made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time: seen. Like someone actually understood how hard this was.
Salome: We'll talk about it Monday. Over coffee.
Malachi: 9 AM. I'll pick the place.
Salome: I thought I was picking the place?
Malachi: You can pick the next one. This one's mine.
She should have pushed back. She should have insisted on her independence, on not letting him take control. But instead, she found herself typing:
Salome: Okay. 9 AM.
Malachi: Wear something comfortable. We might take a walk after.
Salome: Are you planning our whole date?
Malachi: I'm planning to spend as much time with you as you'll let me.
Her breath caught. There was something about the way he said things—like he meant every word. Like she mattered.
Salome: You're going to be trouble, aren't you?
Malachi: Probably. But you already knew that.
She did know that. She'd known it from the moment she saw him at the club. But knowing something and accepting it were two different things.
Salome: Get some sleep, Malachi.
Malachi: You too. And Salome?
Salome: Yeah?
Malachi: I'm looking forward to Monday.
She read that message three times before responding.
Salome: Me too.
She set the phone down and leaned back against her couch, staring at the ceiling. This was a mistake. Getting involved with someone like Malachi King was a mistake. He was dangerous and powerful and clearly used to getting what he wanted.
But as she lay there in the quiet of her apartment, with Kai sleeping peacefully down the hall, she couldn't bring herself to care about the danger.
For the first time in years, someone was paying attention to her. Not just to what she could do for them, but to her. To how she was feeling, what she needed, what she wanted.
And God help her, she wanted to see where this went.
Even if it was a mistake.
Especially if it was a mistake.
- Writer
