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I ran my finger over his number. I hadn’t known his last name before. It was a good-sounding name, like fresh air or snow on a mountain. I itched to take a picture of the note, like that would somehow make it more real.
I closed my eyes and brought the paper to my lips once. That would undoubtedly be the closest I ever got to kissing Daniel McPeak.
Chapter Six
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“Peter? Is somethingwrong?” Adam’s voice was gravelly with sleep. His mother had woken him up to take my call.
“No. Yeah. I mean, yeah, there’s something wrong.”
It’d been two days since the events at Tilt-a-Whirl. During that time, I’d done a lot of soul-searching and taken a ton of pictures to channel my anxieties. I’d spent time with my parents and gone to my job. I’d also jerked off a few times, conflicted about the face I pictured when I came.
It’d been a very long two days.
I’d also nearly called Daniel more times than I could count. A zing of excitement hit me every time I looked at his name and number pinned on my bulletin board. It rested just beneath the fuzzy picture of him that I’d taken ages ago.
The only thing that stopped me from unpinning the number, taking it down to the kitchen, and pressing in the digits was a vague fear that I didn’t know why I’d be calling. To thank him for his advice? To hear his voice? To see if it was possible he was still attracted to me?
In the end, I’d resisted the urge and focused on planning what to say to Adam.
Shivering, I whispered, “No, things aren’t okay here at all.”
“What’s going on?” Adam’s breath quickened with anxiety. “Are you hurt?”
It was two a.m. and Mom and Dad were fast asleep, but I kept my voice low. “It’s not like that. It’s—”
“Is Leslie okay?”
I went silent, the question hitting me like a kick in the gut, though I should have seen it coming. “As far as I know.” I tangled my fingers in my hair, pulling. “I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“Hold on, okay?”
I heard doors banging around as he sought some privacy, and then he whispered, his voice tinged with nervousness, “So, what’s wrong? Found someone new already?”
I blocked out the memory of Daniel’s hand in mine during the phone call with Jeremy. “No.”
“Okay, good.” Adam laughed, relief flooding over the line. “You scared me, Eater. Calling me so early in the morning. I thought someonediedor something.”
“I’m sorry. Is it too early?” I rubbed at my eyes under my glasses. “Is your dad still there?”
“No, he’s gone. He left a while ago. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed you so much. Can you send me something that smells like you? Like some dirty socks or something?”
I snorted, fiddling with the phone cord. I’d pulled over a kitchen stool to sit on so I didn’t have to sit on the floor.
“You think I’m kidding?” Adam asked, laughing.
“Yes. You hate my stinky socks.”
There was an awkward delay over the international line, less than a second, but it still made me feel like I was tripping over his words.
“I love your stinky socks. And your stinky underwear. And your stinky armpits. And—”
I couldn’t wait another minute. I blurted out, “I went to Tilt-a-Whirl, accidentally got high, and then some guys gave me blow jobs.”
The overseas delay stretched on much too long.
Finally, I whispered, “Adam? You still there?”
