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"Simon. It's Simon."
My first reaction was who?
My second reaction was holy shit, it's Simon. His voice had wavered when he repeated his name, like he had just realised what a bad idea calling me at 1:30am was. I felt my body relax, only to tense up again when it remembered I was on the phone to Simon. I needed a moment. I had been so panicked that he might have found me, I'd worked myself up into a knot. I took a few seconds to breath. A few seconds too long, apparently.
“Emma? Are you there?” He sounded so nervous. Hearing his nerves settled mine slightly. We could be a bundle of nerves together!
"Oh, Simon, nice to hear from you at (I checked my watch) 1:37am." I quipped, taking great amusement in his uncomfortable silence. I pulled myself back onto the couch, feeling dizzy. I wasn’t sure if the cause was the near panic attack, or the fact that I was talking to Simon. Wonderful, sexy Simon. Or possibly a combination of both.
"Yes, well I realise how very stalkerish it is of me to call so late. In fact I have no idea why I called other than I wanted to hear your voice." He sounded embarrassed. More than embarrassed, he sounded horrified. “God, I sound like a raging lunatic.” He did sound like a lunatic. You'd think this sort of behaviour would have an agoraphobic hiding under the bed, but no, I was lapping it up. Any attention this man gave me simply wasn't enough, yet at the same time it was scaring the shit out of me. How was that even possible?
"Well, you've heard it now." I joked. My attempt at trying to lighten the mood failed. Yep. I was definitely not a comic. “My voice, that is.” I added hastily. I was sounding like more of a lunatic than he was.
Maybe he should be the one hiding under the bed. “I like that you called.” I added softly.
I wasn't sure if that was true or not. I was excited that he rang me, but all my defences were screaming at me that this guy was insane. Who calls someone they barely know in the middle of the night?
This was worse than the drunk dials I'd listened to on Cass's voice mail. Though some of them were pretty bad.
“I- what you said, about talking. You're right. Sometimes it does help.”
“What’s going on? I probably can't help, but getting it out of your head sometimes makes it easier.” I reasoned. He sighed.
“Just issues with my sister. She is severely disabled, which takes so much out of my mother, looking after her. Yesterday was the anniversary of my father’s death.” He added.
I breathed out quickly. How selfish was I, thinking I was the only one with problems. It was so easy to forget there are other people out there with issues too. Maybe self-absorbed was the perfect way to describe me.
"Honestly Emma, I have no idea what I am doing here. For the record, I have never done this, started anything with a student. Ever. Friendship
or otherwise." He clarified. His voice sounded so genuine, so embarrassed. “I think it was just the stress of the day, and then I felt so bad about snapping at you. And now I am calling you in the middle of the night.”
Where did he see me fitting in? Was I the friendship, or the otherwise?
"I'm your professor, so I think it would be wise to keep this as friendship." He suddenly announced. He sounded surprised. Why did he sound surprised? And what the hell did that mean? The moment of confusion passed and I realised I'd said what I had thought aloud.
Shit, shit, shit.
Must be the vodka. I cursed the vodka.
Evil, evil vodka.
“So, where to from here?" I asked. “I love your emails. They make my day. Well, they made my day yesterday." I said shyly. How boring was I when my highlight was a few inappropriate emails from my professor?
Gosh that was sad. Maybe I should book myself a meeting with Dr Phil.
“I don't know, Emma. I mean, I will stop emailing you as your professor. Just as a friend. Then the lines won't be blurred.” He placed an emphasis on friend. My heart dropped slightly. All my daydreams of us living happily ever after vanished. He may as well have put my heart in a blender and turned it on high.
Luckily rational Emma jumped back into control before I could confess my love for him. I hadn't even met the guy. He was my teacher. And he was nearly twice my age. All I needed to do was repeat the reasons why falling for Simon was such a bad idea and things would be fine.
"Right, well I've clearly lost my mind. I better go before I say something I will regret.”
"Simon?" I said quickly, before he hung up. “Did my voice meet your expectations?" I squeezed my eyes shut, half waiting for his response, and half wanting to hit myself over the head with a brick for asking such a stupid question. How embarrassing if he said no.
"It surpassed them.” He whispered huskily.” Night Emma.”
As I hung up the phone I sighed. Romantic Emma hadn't gotten the memo that we were just friends, or at least she didn't care. I swayed my way into the bedroom, giddy from a combination of over indulging in vodka and my late night call.
So this wasn't just in my head. He wouldn't be calling me at 1:30 in the morning if there wasn't something there for him too. My mind swept back into a series of happy daydreams.
