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“That’s true. We should fix that.”
“What are you doing today?”
I hear something drop in the background, a loud, metallic clatter.
“Shit. I’m trying to get my house cleaned before my mom comes over, but putting dishes away with one hand is harder than it looks. Hold on, one sec.” I hear him put his phone down, and pick up whatever he dropped. “You’re on speaker, it’s just me and Freddy.”
I’m confused for all of two seconds before I remember that’s the name of the lucky pup.
“Good morning, Freddy.”
“He perked up at hearing his name, that’s probably the best you’ll get out of him right now.”
“I’ll take it. What are you and Amelia up to?”
He groans. “What she’s always up to: decorating. And it’s one hundred percent against my will, but she won’t take no for an answer now that I’m 'going to be dating again soon.'” He pauses. “Her words, not mine,” he clarifies.
I like that he clarifies. I don’t want to think any harder on why that is.
“You don’t want your house to look nice?” I ask, not acknowledging the rest.
“It already looks nice. The problem is that my mother and I have different definitions.”
I chuckle. “I’ve got to see this, I’m so curious.”
He takes me very literally, because only a few seconds pass before a video call request comes through. I don’t have a drop of makeup on my face, my hair is knotted and sticking up in weird places. There’s no way I can answer him like this.
“Oh! Hold on!” I hang up on him completely as I jump off my bed and run over to my vanity. I rush, feeling a little bad. I settle for simply brushing through my hair and blending out some concealer under my eyes. It’s not as great as I’d like to look, but it’s an improvement.
I then go to the kitchen and start a cup of coffee to appear slightly more functional. I know it shouldn’t matter, but I’m still working on myself. There will be a day when I care less about what people think of me, today just isn’t it.
I call him back three minutes after hanging up on him. Not too bad, I think.
He’s laughing when his beautiful face appears on my screen. “What was that about?”
“I was…” I blank, not finding any good excuse.
Where’s my ability to think on the spot when I need it?
“Were you still in bed?”
I roll my eyes. “Technically.”
“Hey, I’m not one to judge.” He sets his phone leaning against something and puts his hands up in surrender. “I got up an hour ago, but I would’ve stayed there longer if I could’ve.” He proves that further by letting out a yawn.
I point my cup of coffee to the wall behind him. “Let’s see it then.”
He picks his phone up once again and flips the camera. Miles is very thorough in his tour, showing me every room and every wall. I’m actually quite impressed, and a little sad that Amelia is about to change it before I get to see it in person. His living room is perfectly color coordinated with tans and reds, but the winning piece is a massive wall of posters.
Across from his couch with its burgundy throw pillows, is a wallcoveredwith red posters. There are all different shades, sizes and kinds. Some are of old bands, or video games, or movies. They fill the entire wall, in a big, red mosaic.
I make him keep the camera on it for a couple minutes, pointing out the ones I recognize. It’s beautiful and I need one.
“Don’t let her touch that wall,” I say as he guides me back to the kitchen where we started our call. Now,that’sa room that could use some work. I don’t spot a single thing adorning the walls or counter tops.
“Not a chance,” he assures. “She already knows it’s not going anywhere.”
I hear the sound of his phone vibrating with a message, and he lets out a loud exhale. “I’ve got roughly ten minutes until the chaos begins.”
