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I turn the phone around to show them, and Priya actually claps.
“See?” she beams. “Was that so hard?”
Yes, I thought I might puke. But I bite back the response and continue looking at those three words on my screen. I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to have sent a text in my life, even if it felt overwhelmingly terrifying. I chug the rest of my water and text him back.
Me:
I’ll call you shortly and we can make a plan.
Marcus:
Alright.
As soon as I get home, I toss my keys into the bowl by the door and drop onto the couch, my phone already dialing as I open my laptop. Marcus picks up on the third ring.
“Hey,” his gravelly voice fills the line, and I know it’s two hours later for him.
“Hey, are you in bed?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t sleeping,” he confirms.
“Well, I’m excited to see you again this month,” I say eagerly. But hell, I just invited myself to visit him in Chicago, so I don’t think playing it cool is in the cards for me anymore.
“Me too.”
“I was planning to be at my parents’ house by Christmas Eve, so maybe I could come to Chicago on the 23rd? Or the 22nd, if you wanted more time together?” I put my phone on speaker and set it next to me as I scroll through flight options on my laptop, nervously awaiting his answer. Butterflies are taking flight in my chest as I do.
“The 22nd,” he decides, which catches me off guard in the best way. “Definitely the 22nd.”
“Yeah?” I confirm as I adjust my search to the 22nd.
“Mhm. I’ll take whatever extra time I can get.” He pauses, as if he surprised himself by how easily that came out. Maybe he is as into me as I am him. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can grab a rideshare.”
“I want to.” He pushes it like it’s not a big deal. “You’re coming to see me, and I plan to take advantage of every minute you’re here.”
His words make me feel mushy, and I can’t help but smile. “Okay. I’ll send my flight info once I have it.”
“Good.” There’s a beat of silence between us, and I hear him shifting against what I assume are his sheets. “How was your night? You went out for happy hour with your friends, right?”
“Yeah, it was fun,” I say, leaving out the part where they encouraged me to invite myself to Chicago. I don’t know how Marcus would react to other people knowing about us, so I keep that nugget to myself.
“Good, I’m glad.” A yawn slips through on his end. “Sorry. Long day.”
“Go to sleep, Marcus.”
“I will. Text me your flight info whenever you book it.”
“I will. Night.”
“Night, Evan.”
The line goes quiet, and I look at the calendar. Nineteen days. Not bad, as far as waiting goes. Better than three hundred and sixty-something, at least.
After a few minutes of comparing the flight options, I book and send Marcus the flight details as requested. Something about seeing it confirmed makes the whole thing feel more real between us, even though I’m not naïve to the fact we still live thousands of miles apart. I can’t believe after moving so far from home, the one person who’s captured my attention so completely is from the same place I grew up.
By the time I call my mom the next morning, coffee in hand at my kitchen counter, I’ve decided I’m going to tell her my plans without trying to make a big deal out of it.
