The Girl in Seat 23 {l.r.h.}

seven.

The next morning I had to wake up before dawn to be able to call Luke without my father drilling me like a criminal in court. I gripped the side of the chipped black phone with one hand and held the number I'd been given in the other hand.

I placed my finger in the 5 spot of the oddly shaped rotary phone. Geez, it was like a workout in every phone call.

5.  Whirrrrl.

8.  Whirrrrl.

4.   Whirrrrl.

3 .  Whirrrrl.

9.   Whirrrrl.

4.   Whirrrrl.

4.   Whirrrrl.

His deep voice came groggily through the phone. "Hello?"

"Well, would you look at that? So it's not a fake number. Right on, Hemmings."

"Who is this?"

I rolled my eyes. "Give your number to a lot of girls?" It was silent. "Ouch, tough crowd. It's Rosalie."

"Who?"

"Rosalie Francino." I could hear a bed creak from him sitting up.

"You're that girl from the concert. The girl in seat 23."

"Wow, you are excellent with names."

"You never told me your name last night. Or your number. Can I finally have that?"

"Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"It means maybe."

"It means no," he said with a frown trailing in his voice. "If it's not yes, it's no." I smiled slightly. "So about that date..."

"What date?"

"The one I'm taking you on tomorrow night. Café Spazzo's at 7. Wear something cute."

"No I'm dressing ugly. Just for you."

"Aw, you shouldn't have."

"Bye dork."

********
IT'S LIT ~Laura :)