Page 38 of Mr. Match

I’m awake when his phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans on the floor.

I’m awake when he turns on the TV to watch a cable news update about his friend, Nolan, in California.

I’m awake when he whispers, “I’ll go get him,” into the phone, and then ends the call.

I watch him through nearly closed eyelids as he dresses. Then kiss him back when his lips press to mine in goodbye.

“Stay here, Kat. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

But as soon as he leaves I get up and find my clothes downstairs. Because it’s starting now. This really is the beginning.

When I get home I go right to the drawer with the disposable phone in it. My fingers press the keys on the keypad, typing out the message I had memorized weeks ago.

I set the phone down on the coffee table and wait. Staring at it as my heart races with uncertainty.

It takes seven minutes and twenty-one seconds for it to ring.

I tab the call button and press it to my ear. “Yes,” I say.

“Good job,” he says. “I will assume you were busy working and forgive you for not answering my earlier calls. But if you don’t pick up next time you know what will happen. Phase two starts now.”

As soon as the disposable phone call ends, my real phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hello?” I ask, after tabbing the accept button.

“Hey,” Lily says. “I was just walking over to the Fort Collins Theater for coffee and saw your lights were on. Do you wanna meet me down there?”

I hesitate.

“Unless you’re busy?” she adds.

We don’t usually meet up this early in the day. It’s barely six AM. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I have an early class, remember? That stupid photography one that I took to get my art requirement over with.”

“How dare you,” I huff.

“Well, any class that is two hours long and starts at seven in the morning can kiss my ass.”

“Lily,” I say, chastising her language.

“Sorry. But I’m a grown-up now. You might as well get used to the fact that I’m not as innocent as you think. I say fuck too.”

I tsk my tongue at her. “And studio classes are the best.”

“Maybe for an art fart like you,” she laughs. “But I’m pre-med, sis. I have no use for a two-hour photography class. They tell us we’ll be well-rounded. But all I really need to know about photography is that my phone has filters on it that makes me look good. Do you want to come for coffee or not?”

“Yes,” I say. “Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be right down. Get me a latte and a muffin.”

I end the call and go look at myself in the mirror. I don’t have time for a shower, but I splash some water on my face and pull my hair back into a ponytail before changing out of yesterday’s clothes.

I arrive at the FoCo Theater seven minutes later, looking around wildly for any of Oliver’s relatives. But now that I have actually made contact, I’m not as nervous as I was about being in here.

“Katya!” Lily calls from a corner table. The place is already packed with students and Lily is sitting with a whole group of them.

“Hey,” I say cautiously when I approach the table. I don’t want to have coffee with her friends. “I see you don’t really need my company this morning.”

“Oh, just sit, you antisocial freak.” Lily hands me my latte. The warm cup feels good on my chilled fingertips. “This is Lauren, Kelly, Michelle, and Angie. They’re all part of the Antimony Association.”

I narrow my eyes before I can stop my reaction. “Hmm,” I say, recovering. “I’ve never heard of that society. What do you girls do in your little club?”