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Since I texted him a week ago, we’ve been talking every single day. Or night for him. They almost feel like little dates, except for the fact we’re on different continents. But I love being the last voice Grant hears at night. Makes me feel special.
Especially since he keeps coming back.
“I can keep talking,” Grant continues adamantly.
“Grant, you’ve got an early flight. Just rest.”
He grumbles something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, I just…” He sighs. “Once I’m back in LA there’s no reason to talk on the phone anymore.”
My lips curl to the side. “You like talking to me?”
“Jee, is it obvious?”
I giggle and take a sip of my cold brew. “I like talking to you too, Grant.”
“God, how old are we?”
“Wemight have very different answers for that.”
“Don’t remind me.”
While our age difference is part of the reason I tried to stay away, it’s also one of the things I like about talking with him. He’s mature and grounded. Meanwhile, I’m young and feel like I have my head in the clouds.
I definitely do when it comes to him. “There won’t be a reason to talk on the phone anymore because you’ll be back in LA, and you can see me in person.”
Grant goes quiet. Shit, have I said the wrong thing?
“Only…if you want.” My stomach flips. At first, I think it’s from nerves, but then I feel a wave of nausea hit me all of a sudden.
“I want to, Harley. You know I do. But–”
I press my hand to my mouth.
“You know it’s complicated.”
“Y-yeah,” I force a response through the feeling. “Totally complicated.”
Grant takes a breath. “Let’s both think about it.”
I nod, though he can’t see me.
“Alright?”
“Yes! Yeah, sorry I’m–” What’s wrong with me? “I have to go, I’ll–” Maybe I won’t talk to him later. “Bye.”
“B–”
I hang up before he can even respond, bounding through the sliding glass door of my apartment to the kitchen sink. I brace myself against the stainless steel and hurl my guts into the sink. I haven’t had much to eat today, so the acidic coffee burns my throat. “Fuck…” I curse, spitting out what’s left of the vomit coating my mouth.
The smell is putrid and all I can do is thank god I only had coffee or I’d need a garbage disposal as I wash the upchuck down the drain.
I need to eat something. A piece of toast. Some buttered pasta. Chicken soup. Something neutral to settle my stomach.
Hopefully, that’ll fix everything.
