This isn't weird.

Breaking Up

It rang.

Ben held his breath. This was insane. She had posted one picture. Even if the tag had been in reference to him, why would he assume that it was an invitation and not just a subtle fuck you?

It rang again.

She would think he was a psycho. One picture, and in less than two minutes, he was blowing up her phone.

It rang.

Tess had initially lied about Millie's desire for no contact, sure, but as the months passed, it very well might have become a reality. All this time, she had believed that he truly wanted nothing to do with her. By now, that sense of abandonment had surely evolved into resentment, if not outright contempt.

It rang again.

If that was the case, this was the dumbest, most reckless move he could possibly make. Calling her up in the middle of the night, while she was clearly out with friends, probably drunk—if she needed convincing that he wasn't the callous asshole she'd spent the last six months believing him to be, this wasn't exactly an auspicious situation for it.

It rang.

From her perspective, he must have had some serious nerve to reach out to her like this. She was probably furious. She might just block his number outright.

It rang again.

Or maybe, right now she and her dreamy cowboy friend were cracking up at how pathetic he was to be so desperate for her attention. It was one photo—

The ringing stopped. He heard static on the line, and faint, distant background noise—music, maybe, a bit of droning chatter, the crack of a cue striking a billiard ball.

And then, his favorite voice in the entire world.

"Ben?" Millie whispered. "Is it really you?" He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. His tongue was paralyzed. "Benny? Hello? Are you there?"

Benny. That didn't sound contemptuous. Again, he tried to speak; again, his tongue failed him. He was beginning to panic. If he didn't say something soon, she might dismiss it as a pocket dial. She might not answer the next time.

"Ben," she tried again. "Get it together and talk to me, you stupid idiot." The irony in her voice was cut with a note of earnest pleading that made his heart ache, then leap, then ache all over again. "...Please?"

"I'm here!" he cried with a sudden, convulsive gasp, as if he'd been holding his breath. Maybe he had been holding his breath. He was certainly feeling a little light headed. "Sorry, I... forgot how to talk."

Millie either laughed or sobbed—he wasn't quite sure, though it was definitely followed by a sniffle. "Let's practice, then," she said.

"Yes. Yes! Holy shit, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you." It wasn't the most eloquent start to the conversation, but the sound of her voice had him reeling too hard to be charming. "Can you hear me okay?" he asked. "You're a little staticky."

"Sorry, I barely got any service out here. But I can hear you pretty okay, I think."

"Cool. Um. Good." He took a deep breath and attempted to get straight to the point. "I, um—I saw your picture."

There was a brief pause as she waited for him to follow up, but he floundered, his unasked question hanging heavy in the air. Millie decided to fill the silence with a coy inquiry of her own. "Did you like it?" she asked.

Of course I like it—it has your gorgeous smile, he might have said, if his brain was functioning at a high enough level to attempt basic flirtation. Instead, Ben responded, "Um. Uh. Pretty." He cringed at his own awkwardness. A powerful urge to bang his head against the steering wheel was narrowly foiled by the fear of dropping his phone. He cleared his throat and forced out the burning question. "Were you, um, trying to get my attention?"