I ran into the flat, placing the picnic basket promptly down but finding no moment spare for doing away with my shoes or wet clothes. Instead I pushed on, opening my bedroom door and heading straight for my dresser. My nose and hair were still dripping from the down pour but I flicked them away, hands shaking and heart pounding. I threw aside the cheap cosmetics and forgotten school letters I was supposed to have given Mum and Ross.
I was sure he'd left it here.
I wanted him to have left it here.
A small square of paper caught my eye, numbers scrawled in a wonderful familiar hand. I paused, halfway through a pile of old magazines. Cautiously I reached for the scrap, turning it as though it might shatter between my quaking fingers.
"Bingo." I scrunched it in my fist and left the mess I'd made of my room in search of the phone.
Once there, handset before me, I wondered if what I was doing was such a good idea.
Mum would kill me for the price of such a phone call, let alone anything else..
The piece of paper in my hand was burning, a betrayal waiting to happen. Was I really that angry at Kieran?
Yes, yes I was. If Kieran was going to play dirty then who was I to hesitate?
I deserve this.
Do you though Evans? Do you deserve to hurt Tom for the sake of one, stupid indigo eyed boy?
I picked up the phone, measuring the distance between me and the front door. I guessed there was enough cord to stretch out onto the landing to give me the privacy I desired.
Mum knew too much already.
The cord shadowed me as I pulled it towards the door, the coils undoing themselves. I wedged open the door and slipped through. The stairwell was deserted, allowing me to sink to my knees and cradle the phone in my lap.
In one hand I held the receiver, the other the creased bit of paper I'd held so tightly the numbers were beginning to smudge. I had to do this, I had to remind myself how to feel something. And maybe, just perhaps, I could say all the things to Tom that would have read cowardly in a letter.
I studied the numbers on the garish panel and then the ones on the paper. My thumb brushed across the numbers before I finally began entering digit by digit. I lifted the phone to my ear and felt my heart skip with every echoing ringing. I bit at the flesh surrounding my thumb nail, a sudden rush of nerves flooding my stomach.
On the thirteenth ring someone picked up.
"Hello, is um Tom there?" I choked, sweat breaking across my brow. Maybe I had the wrong number or perhaps he'd be out with friends.
Maybe all of his letters were a lie and Tom had a life, a good life without me in it.
"Speaking, who's this?"
Oh how wonderful it was to hear his voice.
"Hi Tom it's – er, Chris, eh Christine." Peeved by my own awkwardness I knocked my head against the door. What was wrong with me? I was unable to even compose a sentence, so overwhelmed with relief to hear him.
"Christine!" He breathed my name as though it was his air, his everything. "I'm so glad you called. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me," Tom said. His voice was so warming and friendly despite everything. It was the only thing I needed to fill the emptiness Kieran had left. He was a world away and yet I could picture him as though he was within reach of my fingertips.
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YOU ARE READING
We Who Are Jaded
Paranormal"Do you really know Indigo, Evans?" Christine is falling in love with the boy who rescued her from a suicide she doesn't remember attempting. But falling in love has it's consequences - especially when it's with an indigo eyed Lord of...