Beside

12 - realization

"Fox, what does love feel like?"

"Faro says the sun loves Earth, so maybe it's like every day is sunny, and even when it rains, it's still...sunny?"

"Oh. Do you love me?"

"Yeah."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart, Jellybean."

ｃｈｒｉｓ

My room still doesn't feel like mine. I think I need a theme, like forest or rainbows or death.

I sit cross-legged on the floor, staring at the bed. My sheets are purple, the deep royal kind, and I've got silver pillowcases. The light filters through the curtains, all soft and dreamy, like everything is wrapped in some gauzy film. It's still a bit early.

There's something off about this space. Something that isn't... me. Yet.

I push up from the carpet, grab the small ceramic frog from my nightstand and walk over to the window overlooking the city. I place it on the ledge. He looks ridiculous there. I like it. He can watch over the room.

Maybe some twinkle lights? Whitney would know where to get those.

The phone rings, jolting me back into reality. I shuffle over and snatch it up from the receiver.

"Did you tell him yet?"

Whitney.

"Did I what?" I blink, turning in a circle.

"Did you tell him it's you?"

The frog croaks on the windowsill as I halt. "Did I...what?"

"Chris! For the love of god!"

I groan, stomping a foot. "No, okay! I'm weak and insane and I'm on fire, Whitney!" I fall back against the bed, the blankets spoofing.

I am absolutely, utterly in flames. My cheeks, my chest, the very tips of my fingers are burning just thinking about that kiss. The way his lips moved, he was pulling pieces of me apart... I'm dying again just thinking about it. I squeeze my eyes shut, setting the back of my hand on my cheek. Tinginlingly warm.

"Whitney, I just—ugh. Can you please come over? I need you."

There's a stretch of silence on the other end of the line.

"Whit? Whitney?" I sit up, eyes wide. "Did you just hang up on me? Whitney?" I pull the phone away from my ear, then the dial tone starts. "WHITNEY! OH MY GOD!"

I dial her number again, my fingers fumbling angrily.

She picks up after two rings.

"You," she says, thoroughly unimpressed.

"You hung up on me!" I shout, hurling a pillow across the room.

"My finger slipped."

"You left me to die in my feelings! You left me on a deserted island to die! In my feelings!"

"Rip off the band-aid and tell him."

I groan, rolling over and burying my face in my duvet. "I'm supposed to go to Skyfall! You said you'd be there!"

She's silent for a moment. Actually, a long, long moment.

"Did you hang up again?"

"No, no, I... I'm sorry. I'll bring nail polish and hair curlers when I come over, but... not tonight. Probably in a few days."