An Orphic Love

EIGHT

Author's Note: its late but heyy i updated! and this one is long!

TW: mentions of domestic violence

...

MERCEDES

Call him? At one AM?

A pit starts to grow in my stomach but I don't know why. It's just a question. Not really, it's kind of a demand. Call him. At 1 AM.

He's right, we've talked later. But we haven't even called each other at a regular time. 1 AM is a whole different... thing. 

Why am I spiraling about this? I don't know. Maybe it's because if you had asked me a month ago if I would ever text- or call- a guy I met at a gas station days after breaking up with my dream guy that cheated on me again- I probably would have laughed my ass off and told you that you need to mind your own damn business and text your own random guy in a gas station.

But here we are.

And Dario isn't just some guy I met at a gas station. And then again at a theater. He's quickly becoming an everyday thing in my life. I wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, talk to my friends, and text Dario. I come home, take a shower, read some books, do my homework, research affordable lawyers, and text Dario.

And I really enjoy texting Dario.

Why the hell do I like texting a random guy I met at a gas station?

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at the phone. I can't really explain why I'm so hesitant. I like Dario. I know that whatever he wants to talk on the phone about probably won't be horrifying or triggering in anyway.

I sigh anyway.

What if it is? As cute and funny as he is, he's still a guy.

Just do it. He's not a bad guy.

A lot of people would say the same about someone who turns out to be a serial killer.

Stop being so distrustful.

I'll stop being so distrustful when people stop giving me reasons to be distrustful.

I hit the call button and toss the blanket over my face. Now, the only source of fresh air is from the gap between the blanket and the pillow above my head.

It's a moment before Dario answers, and I hear rustling. Then breathing. Then a whispered fuck. And then a thud. I start to smile. I'm getting the feeling that Dario is a clumsy person.

"Hey!" His voice finally comes through the phone. It's the same as I remember it, still for some reason I feel warm hearing it. "You answered,"

"I did," I smile. "Did you fall?"

"No, I didn't fucking fall," He says quickly, and I can't help but laugh. He definitely fell. "Anyway. How are you this fine night?" Thunder booms, shaking the walls again.

"Eh," I mutter, and adjust my pillow. It's night time and I'm awake. This has been a thing for a while now. Not sleeping. I sleep, just not very much. 1 AM is like the new 10 o'clock. 3 AM is the new Midnight. "Fine. You?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked." Oh? How intriguing. Dario clearly shifts in whatever position he's in, sighing as he does. "Did you hear anything about Charlotte M. Greene's treasure hunt?"

My brows furrow. There's no way I heard him correctly.

"Did you just say Charlotte M. Greene and treasure hunt in the same sentence?"