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“Give me that.” She snatches the phone from my hand before I can react. “How much vodka are you putting in these? Might be time to lock the phones away.”
“I wasn’t putting that much.” But one glance at the half empty liquor bottle discredits me. I don’t feel that drunk. A bit tipsy perhaps. Two minutes and a slow blink away from an unintentional nap on the floor, sure. But not drunk.
In the end, Angela’s the one who crashes on the floor while I take the couch. The fact that neither of us makes it to the bed should tell us something about the effect the alcohol has on us. When I open my eyes, I can’t tell if any time has passed. The lights are still on. Angela is fast asleep on the floor, her back rising and falling gently with her breaths. Her phone is sitting on the coffee table while mine is tucked in the right back pocket of her jeans. She never made it to the lock case.
I’m just going to check the time, I tell myself as I lean off the couch, pinching the sides of my phone with my thumb and pointer finger, ensuring I’m not touching her before carefully sliding it free. She doesn’t stir.
Except, I don’t even register the time before I find myself opening the message app. I yawn into my hand as I type out a quick message, hoping I’m not too late. That he hasn’t already decided he wants nothing to do with me anymore. I can’t let this mistake grow any bigger than I’ve already allowed it to. He needs to know how I feel, and I need to know if he can forgive me. This can’t wait. I won’t be able to sleep properly with this weight on my chest.
As soon as I hit send, with nothing weighing me down anymore, my eyes blink closed and I fall back asleep.
My tolerance must not be what it used to be, because when I wake up in the morning my head is pounding. Angela must have turned off the lights in the middle of the night. The living room is dark except for the light coming through the window. She’s still fast asleep on the floor, arms wrapped around her shoulders like she’s cold. I step over her to get to my room and return with a blanket.
“Mmf.” Angela turns over, blinking awake, as I drop the blanket over her. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked yet.”
I grab my phone from the couch when last night returns to me: me sneaking my phone from her back pocket, pulling up the message app—
“Oh no.”
“What happened?” Angela asks, still half asleep until she looks into my face, at whatever frozen expression must be painted on it. “Marcela, what happened?”
“I texted Theo last night.” The memory rushes forword until it’s all I can think about. God, I don’t even know what time it was when I sent him that text. What must he be thinking? I have no way of knowing from my empty lock screen, clear of notifications.
Her wrinkled brow straightens as she spots the phone in my hand. “You little sneak thief.”
“You never made it to the lock case. If there’s anyone to blame here, it’s you.”
“I didn’t send your ex-rebound a drunk text in the middle of the night, now did I?” She crosses her arms and pins me with a look.
“I wasn’t that drunk.” Even so, I deserve every bit of the stern disappointment in her face. “Just… sleepy.”
“What time did you send it?”
My thumb hovers over the message app, nerves overwrought. Why the hell did I think sending that message last night was a good idea? I should’ve waited for a more reasonable hour at least. I should’ve asked him to talk in person about how I feel, not whatever hastily thought-out text I ended up sending last night.
Angela rises to her knees for a better look at my screen. I’m almost afraid to let her see whatever catastrophe I may have sent Theo, but for the first time in a while, I don’t want to be alone to deal with whatever fallout will come of this. After finally tapping the message icon, it opens immediately to our text chain. The message was sent at approximately 2:48 a.m.
I changed my mind. I can’t walk away from you for good. Please tell me you still feel the same.
I want to give us a second chance.
Oh god.
Of course I meant every word, but that doesn’t mean he had to hear it through text. There’s still no resolution between us, or the people we’ve both attempted to come between. But maybe—if he’s willing to forgive me, that is—it’ll be worth the risk to try. The thought comforts me more than it makes me anxious, which has to be a momentous step forward.
I want Theo. Maybe I even want him to know how I feel.
Just as I’m beginning to think maybe this is a good thing, I chance a glance at Angela. Except when I do, the blood has drained from her face and I find horror in her widened eyes. She looks back at me, shaking her head furiously. My brows furrow in a silent question until I turn back to the screen. That’s when I notice what she must have seen first. Because it’s not Theo’s name at the top of my screen.
It’s Ben’s.
“Fuck.” I let out a breath, chest heaving. “Holy fuck! What am I gonna—” I let out a loud gasp as the status below the message changes to read. Then I let out an ear-piercing screech. Angela flinches before making a grab for the phone and tossing it across the room. It lands with a crash somewhere in the hallway.
“Okay, okay, let’s calm down and think.” Angela reaches for my shoulders in a hard grip. “This is bad, yes, but we can fix it.”
“How?” I burst, panic flooding my veins. “How can we possibly fix—”
