But also, it would be rude to ignore his call. I don’t want to be rude.
My finger hovers over the green button, debating, before I quickly tap to answer right before he gets sent to voicemail.
“Uh, hello?”
“Hey there, firecracker.” Fletcher’s hushed voice floats across the line.
“Is there a reason you’re calling me?”
“Well, I can’t have you falling asleep on me.”
I honestly have no clue how to respond so I sit there speechless, staring at my laptop screen where the movie I had been watching is paused.
“It’s your turn, firecracker.”
“What?”
“Your turn to ask me a question, duh.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fletcher roll his eyes, but I can almost certainly hear the gesture in his voice now.
I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fine. What’s your favorite movie?”
“We already covered that at dinner, silly goose.” He scoffs.
“Actually,” I say, drawing out the word, “we didn’t. You never did answer.” I smirk, even though I know he can’t see it.
“Oh… you’re right. How rude of me. Well, that’s easy.For Love of the Game.”
“Let me guess, a baseball movie?”
“You’d be correct.” I can hear the smile in his face. “And we’ve already covered that your favorite is a sports movie too. We’re meant to be.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think that’s what it means.”
“Hater,” he accuses. “Okay, my turn. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
“Oh god, that’s a hard question.” I take a moment to think about it. I’m about to give him my immediate answer, but I also don’t.
“Don’t think too hard. Give me the first thing that comes to mind,” he encourages.
“Ugh, I can’t do that,” I whine.
“Why not?”
“Because the first thing that came to mind is—” I sit up abruptly and hold the phone closer to whisper, as if she’ll hear what I’m about to say from across the country. “Before I say this, I need you to swear on your life that you willnevertell my mother I said this.”
“Oh, firecracker, you think I’m going to meet your mother at some point? I’m so honored. I knew you liked me!”
“Fletcher?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the fuck up.” The dicklaughs. “I’m serious,” I hiss. “My mother is never allowed to hear about this.”
“Fine, fine. I swear, firecracker. Now what is it?”
I let out a sigh. “Tacos. It’s tacos. I’ve become obsessed with them since I moved out to California.”
“What’s so bad about tacos? Tacos are great.”
