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I look between my phone and him. “Is that?”
“Answer it.”
I go over to the counter and sure enough it’s him. “Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, I was just hanging out at home and got the feeling you wanted to talk to me. What’s up?”
I pull the phone from my ear. “Are you serious?”
He covers the phone with his free hand. “I’m on the phone right now. Hang on.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so damn …”
He dips his head toward the phone in my hand.
“Did you want to talk about something?” he asks into the phone like this is a real conversation.
“I can’t …” I pause and look around. Then I go to the far side of my kitchen island and put my back to him before I take a seat on the floor.
“What are you doing?” He leans over the island.
“I can’t do this while looking at you.” I shoo him away and put the phone back to my ear. “Hello?”
“I’m here.”
Butterflies rise in my belly at the reassurance in his voice.
“I did want to talk,” I start. “I did something this weekend.”
“Something or someone?”
I burst out laughing. “You’re not supposed to ask me that.”
“Why not? We’re friends.”
He’s right.
I roll my eyes. “Someone.”
“Was he good?”
I gasp and peer out over the kitchen island but he isn’t there. I glance around my living area. He’s not on the couch.
“Where’d you go?”
“I told you I’m at home, relaxing. I believe I asked you a question. Was he any good?”
I know he hasn’t left my apartment. I would’ve heard the door close. More than that, I can feel his presence here. There’s some rustling noise in the background.
“No, he wasn’t good,” I say.
“The fuck?”
I crack up but quickly sober up to admit the truth. “He was everything I’ve ever wanted.”And been too afraid to ever reach for.
I make myself keep that last admission to myself. The truth is I might still be too frightened to reach for it.
“That’s more like it,” he says. “But what’s with the hesitation in your voice?”
