Hot Line | ✓

call #7

"um."

"hey, evan." she coughs.

"look, tee—"

"how was your day?" she says, cutting him off.

"it was okay. about the other day—"

"what about it?" she quickly interjects.

"i'm sorry. i don't know what i was thinking. i thought it might help but—"

"but what?"

"you have a habit of interrupting when you're nervous."

"i am not nervous." she laughs dryly. "why would i be nervous?"

"let's just pretend that never happened. i think we can both agree that it was weird."

"i work for a sex hotline, evan. it wasn't that weird for me."

"well, it was weird for me. i felt dirty and i don't want to do it again."

"whatever you'd like. i'm here to keep my customers satisfied."

"don't say that."

"why not?" she challenges.

"because that makes you sound like a piece of meat. i'm not calling for sex. i don't know what got into my head, okay? i'm sorry. i don't want you to feel like i'm calling to take advantage of you."

she stays silent, processing his words.

"i just want to be your friend, tee."

"i know," she says, letting out a sigh.

"can we just pretend that phone call never happened? can we still be friends?"

"of course," she says, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

"good."

"hey, evan?"

"yeah?"

"one last thing before we pretend that phone call didn't happen."

"okay."

"you have a really cute moan."

the line goes silent before soon being filled by their laughter.