Angie's POV
I was woken up by the sunlight peering through the sheer curtains of my bedroom, as well as the faint ringing of my telephone that sat on the coffee table in the living room of my apartment. The air was cold and hit me like a ton of bricks once I crawled out of my covers, most likely due to the fact that I can't afford heat while living in this building.
I eyed my answering machine as I walked to make some coffee, not bothering to see what the two missed calls were about. I didn't want to find out if it was Jane, on my case about why I left and who I left with. She didn't need to know. Not after last night. Had she given him my number too? That'd be the icing on top of the fucked up cake.
I let the time pass by, sitting on my old velvet sofa, sipping my coffee that had gone cold, letting my eyes drift closed every now and then. I looked to the front of me, setting my eyes on the magenta hues of the numbers on the clock that sat above the television. 7:25 in the morning. I ran my hand through my hair only to be met with the chemically scented, overly matted curls trapping my fingers. I started to feel a sense of agony until I remembered last night chronologically. Him.
I rushed to the coffee table, noticing the red light blinking. 3 new voicemails.
"Angie! Answer your phone! What happened last night? Chad accidentally walked in on me and my friend, said you were some type of heinous bitch and that you ran away with some curly-headed fuck. Who is this curly-headed fuck!"
Speak of the she-devil and it shall appear. I rolled my eyes, not the voice I wanted to hear. I didn't even bother to sit through her second voicemail, I only wondered why she had been up right now. I still had this feeling that I was obligated to call her back. To tell her everything. I don't want to. And I'm still fucking upset with her. I don't have much to say. I'd rather keep the news of this beautiful "curly-headed fuck" to myself.
I decided not to let my thoughts get the best of me and clicked the button on the machine until I heard the familiar voice.
"Hey Angie. Uh, it's Chris. I know it's early, but I don't know. I didn't sleep. I couldn't, actually. To tell you the truth, I couldn't stop thinking about last night. I just. It was great. You know? I don't know what I'm getting at. I think you're cool. Or, well, I know you're cool. You're so...so fucking cool. I'll shut up. Call me when you get the chance, yea? Somethin' I wanna ask. Alright."
I smiled to myself, feeling my face heat up. His voice danced around my mind, words in repetition. And right away, I picked up the phone, ready to dial. Would it be too weird? Too soon? It was early. Would he be asleep? Away from the phone, maybe?
Fuck it.
Seconds felt like hours. The ringing on the other end made my eardrum vibrate. I held the phone between my cheek and shoulder, nervously picking at my nails.
"Hello?"
And with that, my heart could have been bouncing all over the walls. Keep it simple, cool, as if all of the blood didn't rush to my face the second I heard his voice.
"Hey, Chris? It's me, Angie. I missed your call this morning. I was just, sleeping. I guess."
"Hey you. You guess? I figured. Did you get my message?"
I could tell he was smiling.
"Yea, yea I did."
Twirling the cord to my telephone, blushing. And he wasn't even here. Something about his voice. The way he spoke. It was enough to make me melt, tongue-tied.
"Good. Well, you want to come see us play Saturday night? You know, me and the guys. We have this thing at the Central Tavern. You can stop by, if you wanna of course. I could come scoop you up too if you're up for it. No douche bags aloud either."
I laughed, but came to a halt when I heard a knock at the door.
"I could be there. Hey, I think Jane's stopped by. Can I call you back?"
Another knock.
"Totally. Don't keep me waiting too long."
I put the phone down and rushed to the door.
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"You wanna tell me who this guy is or are you going to keep him as your little clandestine lover?"
Jane walked in, brushing past me and slinging her purse off of her shoulder, placing it down. With her hand on her hips, she stood before me. Almost felt like home again, with my mother preparing to scold me about being out past my curfew.
I couldn't kick her out like my brain was telling me to. And of course, I had to come clean about Chris. Even though it wasn't anything like she had thought it was. However, I didn't want to come off as coy.
"He's just a friend. I met him last night. He got me away from that loser you set me up with. Which I am quite pissed about, by the way."
She looked at me dumbfounded, leaning on my dining table, tapping her freshly manicured nails against it.
"And what exactly are you upset at again?"
She didn't know. Which meant I had to inform her. Thus leading to an entire argument, something I didn't need at the moment. The kind where you are red in the face, arms flailing through the air as an attempt to get your point across. Last night was the piece of straw that broke the camel's back. Letting her know her fault, what she did wrong, was something that she let her pride get in the way of.
"He tried to fuck me over, Jane. He grabbed me. Do you know what that could have led to? And you weren't there. He was drunk. And you knew that."
"I just wanted to set you up with someone for once. Someone I knew was good for you. To give you a fun time. Is that so wrong? He's a nice guy, Angie. You're just being a prude. Not only that, but you run off with some Romeo and don't let me in on it? What the fuck is up with that?"
"Fuck you Jane. Your version of nice is obviously far off from mine. It's none of your business who I was with last night. None of your concern. I'm tired of feeling forced to let you in on everything. To let you dictate my life, to decide what's good for me, what I do or don't do. To make me feel guilty for not following suit. You're my best friend, Jane. You're not me."
Silence. A long moment of it, at that. Her shoes clapped against the hardwood floor as she walked to the door, gripping the doorknob as she turned to me. Her face sunken with bitterness.
"You could have told me how you felt."
Slam.
I sat on the couch in defeat. I felt like shit for having said all of it to her, I did. But if it didn't come out now, it was bound to come out later. I was right. I felt right. But something about it made me feel wrong. Odd freedom, which was more uncomfortable than bottling it all up. Something I would have to get used to, now knowing it was better for me.
I dialed Chris' number again. He picks up, not letting the phone ring for even a mere second.
"Saturday night, right?"
There wasn't anything to keep hidden.
