Emma: Hey.
Emma: It’s Emma, btw. Emma Fox. The crazy girl who cornered you in Westcroft University’s music room. You gave me your number. I’m not stalking you or anything. Just wanted to say hey.
Ten Minutes Later
Emma: I actually wanted to say more than “hey.” Thank you so much for inviting me to your concert! That was really nice of you, and I’d love to see you play again.
Five Minutes Later
Emma: Hey… Emma, again. Sorry for the late texts. These aren’t booty calls or anything, if that’s why you aren’t responding. I would die if you thought that. I just have a really important midterm in Music Theory tomorrow, and I’m kinda freaking out, and everyone I would normally freak out with is away, so I guess I thought I’d finally text you. Not that you’re a last resort or anything.
Twelve Minutes Later
Emma: And I’m sorry for bringing up booty calls. I was hoping that’d be reassuring, but it was just weird—wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure what to say after you added that little note about not pushing me away in your invitation, but I don’t want you to think I’m coming on to you.
Two Minutes Later
Emma: Not that you aren’t handsome enough to come on to. You’re very attractive, and you probably have girls texting you like this all the time. But I’m not trying to sniff around or anything.
Fourteen Minutes Later
Emma: I mean, I have a boyfriend who buys me waffles. Okay? I just want to make that clear.
Seventeen Minutes Later
Emma: Waffles.
I scrolled through the messages, cringing as my caffeine high faded.
Maybe I’d overdone it a tiny bit?
It wasn’t exactly surprising that Oliver wasn’t responding at two in the morning, but his lack of answering had goaded me into sending more messages until it was too late to salvage anything. I officially regretted adding his number to my phone.
But one thing was certain: my heart still pitter-pattered when I thought of him, and that was concerning since it wasn’t the coffee causing it. Guilt quickly followed, and I wondered what the heck was wrong with me.
Was it normal to have celebrity crushes even when you were in a loving and totally faithful relationship? Maybe there was nothingwrongwith this.
I could love my boyfriend and still admire a piano god.
Most girls probably didn’t text their celebrity crushes, though.
I heaved a sigh and chucked my phone under the blankets before focusing back on Noah’s flash cards.
When the pressure grew to be too much and I’d used up the last of my caffeine reserves, I fell asleep surrounded by flash cards and discarded coffee cups.
My laptop sat on the desk playingArabesqueon loop.
* * *
I awoke to my phone bursting into a flurry of vibrations the next morning. At first, I ignored it—being too tired to even open my eyes. But whoever was calling was persistent, because after a moment of rest, the vibrations would just begin again. When it burst to life after the fourth ignored call, I groaned and fumbled around under the covers for my phone.
“Yeah?” I grunted into it, then cursed myself for not checking if it was my mother before answering.
“Emma, where the hell are you?” Noah asked. There was an urgency in his voice I didn’t recognize.
“Noah?” I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you just wake up? Class is starting. I just left to come see if you were still in your dorm.”
