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I didn’t get home till about three in the morning. I hate to say it, but I checked my phone the whole night. Even now, lying in bed at three thirty in the morning, I’m staring at my phone.
I know he said he’d call and, no, I didn’t expect him to do that in the ass crack of dawn but something about his promise has me standing at attention. Waiting and hoping. Like a lovestruck fool, really.
Tonight, I stayed at my apartment. I’d usually stay at my mom’s on the weeknights just in case she needed me, but I opted for my own comfy bed instead. I roll over to turn on my TV knowing I won’t be able to sleep until after I take Emsley to school, needing to make sure I’m on time to my mom’s house and knowing I can come home and sleep for a few hours afterwards.
I scroll mindlessly through the channels trying to find something to watch. But my choice in show is taken from me as my phone starts to ring next to my head and I drop the remote out of fright.
I reach for my phone, the screen lighting up as it rings, but as soon as I go to answer it, it stops. I stare at the missed call…Nolan.
Almost as quickly as the phone call ended, a text comes through.
My bad. I meant to only text you and I accidentally pressed call instead.
I texted him back, trying to seem not bothered but also wanting to give him shit.
I know you said you’d call, but I didn’t think you meant this early in the morning. Eager much?
I watch the text indicator wave up and down, up and down. And then disappear. I look up at the show I had landed on,Jerry Springer. I remember when my dad would watch this show. Not willingly, of course. My mom used to make him watch it with her and he’d yell at how stupid everyone was and how scripted the whole show had been. Getting a small snippet of the argument taking place currently, I’d have to agree with my dad.
Boy, do I miss him.
I cozied myself in my bed, trying not to close my eyes and thank goodness I get another text to distract myself.
Did I wake you?
No. I just got home. I plan to stay awake till I have to take Emsley to school.
I responded, sitting up to be in a better position to text.
You just got home?
The bar closes at two. What about you? Why are you awake?
The text response bubble bounces up and down before his response comes through.
I usually wake up this early to start my day. But honestly, I couldn’t keep myself asleep.
How come?
Because I can’t stop thinking about you.
I drop my phone, the device sliding down my comforter and hitting the floor with a thud.What?My face heats up with rushes of desire utter confusion all at the same time. Did he mean to send that to me? Did I read that right?
I lean over to pick my phone back up off the floor and reread his message.
Yep. I read that right.
Because I can’t stop thinking about you.
It’s a little forward. A little too honest. But I have to admit that it feels really nice. Warmth crawls over me, creating a buzz I’m excited to feel.
Before I can think of a response, because really, I don’t even know what to say, another message pops up on the screen.
I was serious about wanting to take you out. Are you up for a date?
Something inside of me surges, like a wave clashing against my ribcage, trapped, but trying to find a way out. The feeling is all too intense laced with vehemence and something unknown.
I think I’ll have to check my schedule. Pretty busy these days.
