Amanda

We Did It

The door swings open, and Kendrick steps in, engrossed in his phone.

I watch as he approaches me, then takes a seat next to me on the bed.

"Uhm..."

He raises his head, and a smile forms on his lips.

"You must be feeling well now, right?" He asks.

"Uhm, yeah, I am."

"Good, so..."

My brows furrow in confusion as he hands me his phone.

I glance down at it, then back up at him.

"Uhm, what should I do with it?"

"Your phone number, let me have it."

My heart skips a bit, and my eyes widen as I exclaim, "My phone number?"

"Hmm," his twists bounces and swings in different directions as he nods.

"Uhm, but..."

"Don't keep me waiting."

His gaze suddenly turns intense, piercing into my mind and soul.

I tentatively reach for his phone and raise it up closer to me.

This must be an iPhone with an extremely thick and dark screen.

Wow!

I begin dialing in my number with my sweaty and trembling fingers.

"Here," I say, handing him back his phone with a nervous smile.

He takes his phone from me, his eyes fixed on the screen as he taps away.

I lean back against the bed headboard, folding my arms and taking a deep breath to calm my nerves.

My gaze drifts to the door, and I can't help but wonder if he's genuinely interested in me or just being friendly.

I hope he's not like my high school crush, who ended up preferring my friend - the pretty and popular head girl with a physique that turned heads.

What if he does like me, but another brave girl comes along and takes him away, leaving me all alone, just like I've been since high school?

The emotions swirl in my mind, sending pangs to my heart.

I wish I wasn't so awkward back then; maybe I wouldn't feel so much pain now.

But, as my sister always says, "we move."

Suddenly, my mom's image pops into my head, and my eyes snap open.

I turn to Kendrick, who's still engrossed in his phone.

"Uhm, Ken—"

"Ikem," he corrects, not looking up.

"Uhm, Ikem."

He still doesn't look up, but responds, "Yeah?"

"Can I call my mom using your phone?"

"Sure," he says, finally looking up with a smile.

I nod, smiling back, "Thanks."

He hands me his phone, and I take it with gentle hands.

I dial my mom's number from memory and wait for her to answer.

My heart skips a beat when she responds with a worried, "Hello?"

I can tell she's been worried sick about me.

"H-hello, Mom."

"Hello, Amanda? Is that you?" I can hear the sound of vehicles and people in the background; she must be in a public place.