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I don't even need to try and guess who it could be.
I know without looking that what woke me up it's a deluge of texts from Carson.
I don't have people in my life that would call and text so much. I mean, my brother would if he was worried about something, but he's upstairs. And I can safely rule out Penny because she's supposed to be spending the night with Simon, celebrating one of his many academic achievements —that kid is scary smart.
Against my better judgment, I slip my phone out of my pocket and directly unlock it with my finger. The facial recognition never works well on this model if there's little light around, and right now, there is none in the room, with the exception of the bit that’s coming from the digital frame playing the slideshow.
Sure enough, I have a bunch of texts from Carson, and my heart starts to do its funny dance.
Carson, 10.31 PM:
Goodnight, Mia.
Carson, 10.32 PM:
Mia, R U asleep already?
Carson, 10.32 PM:
I'm thinking about U. I need 2 C U.
Carson, 10.34 PM:
Okay, U R definitely sleeping. U would never leave me hanging, I know that.
Carson, 10.34 PM:
Shit, I hope I didn't just wake U up with all these texts…
Carson, 10.34 PM:
If I did, go back to sleep, baby! Sweet dreams.
Aww, cute. Dammit!
What little left there still was of my heart that was holding the fort and playing hard-to-get bursts into a pink shower of confetti in my chest.
Now why did he have to go and play this dirty?
So damn endearing, that bastard!
Also, kinda obsessive, maybe. And that's bad, right?!
I already have an obsessively-protective brother.
Do I reallyalsoneed an obsessively-protective boyfriend to join forces with him and drive me insane even more?
Not that he's my boyfriend, anyway. Or that he really wants to be.
He may be sending me cute texts and stuffies, and he may be saying that he wants to see me and get to know me, but if there's something he wants, it's just to take me for a spin and then move on to his next conquest.
That's what cocky guys like him do. That's what rock stars do.
My fingers itch to answer his texts, tell him everything and anything, tell him that I miss him, too, as crazy as it is and that I want to see him just as much, but I make myself resist the urge.
I turn to look at the slideshow again, and my eyes meet those of my mother as she smiles in a sunny shot. She's standing in the middle between Jared and our dad on a beach in Florida.
I remember taking that picture myself. That's why I'm not in it.
