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“Fuck. I woke you up.”
I should have realized as soon as I heard his groggy tone. The rustling was sheets. It’s ten here, which means it’s the middle of the night where he is.
“Not even sure I’d fallen asleep yet.”
Will is lying. I’m certain. He flew all night to see his brother and was fast asleep. He’s not sure if Tripp will be okay, and he’s trying to make me feel better.
“I’m so sorry. I just…you didn’t come over last night or play in the game, and you weren’t answering my texts. I got worried. Sorry, again. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Let me know how Tripp is doing. You know, when you have the chance. I’m sure there’s a lot going on…”
He clears his throat again, and I think he’s going to ask about the game yesterday. Whether Kluvberg won without him.
Instead, he tells me, “I’m sorry, Sophia. I should have texted you before heading to bed. I didn’t think…I didn’t mean to worry you. Everything happened so fast, and then it was the middle of the night for me, and I didn’t think through that it wasn’t still the middle of the night for you.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. As long as he’s fine.
“If you didn’t show up when we had plans and weren’t replying to my messages, I would have called 110.”
The smile appears automatically. I don’t realize I’m smiling until my cheeks stretch. “You sound like a local.”
“Yeah, well, I had a good tour guide.”
There’s a beat of silence. But it’s not awkward. It’s more like we’re both weighing what else to say.
Will speaks first. “I’m not used to having someone to text.”
My heart clenches painfully. There’s a fluttering feeling in my chest too.
I’ve learned more than where Will is during this conversation. I’ve discovered the size of my feelings for him, and it’s not tiny.
“I’m not used to…texting,” I tell him.
The sentence is clunky. It doesn’t make perfect sense, and maybe I can blame it on English technically being my second language. But I know exactly what I’m trying to say. I just don’t know how to say it or whether this is the right time to.
These feelings are far more foreign than any language. I’m not used to caring, is what I mean. I’ve always flipped through guys easily with no lingering attachment.
And it’s as terrifying as physically falling, realizing just how far I’ve traveled from indifferent.
I’m more scared to tell Will I’m in love with him than I was about having sex for the first time. That was only new to me. From what Will is saying, I think this is new to him too.
Will doesn’t laugh or tease. Without seeing his face, I know that means he understood what I was really saying. That there haven’t been other guys I was worried about and reached out to. That there are big feelings.
“Thanks for calling,” he says softly. “I’ll, uh, when I know more, I’ll let you know, okay?”
He sounds as uncertain as I feel, which is both comforting and concerning.
“Okay.”
“Bye, Sophia.”
“Bye, Will.”
I hang up, then stare into space for a while until I have to get up and head to the Neues Kluvberg offices.
THIRTY-TWO
WILL
My fingers tap anxiously against the plastic arm of the chair as I study the painting on the wall. It’s a meaningless mess of shapes, no matter how long I stare at it. Or at least, I think it is. Maybe Sophia would see something different if she were here.
