I don’t get sleep again the night after, and I wake up early in the morning with a strong urge to go somewhere. I need to keep moving, or I know for a fact I can’t feel good. It will be a lost cause. So I get up and go down into the kitchen. No one is awake, so I can’t leave the house, but to get some blood flowing, I make some Nutella raspberry crêpes and top them with powdered sugar.
After eating three of the crêpes myself, I lay the rest out on the table and think about what else I can do to get myself out of here today. I could walk around town again, but it’s rainy. I could read upstairs in my writing room . . . But I need something more than that at the present moment. Even writing can’t steal me far away enough; my focus is wavering, so I won’t be able to absorb myself completely.
That’s when I remember Daniel’s number, on the bookmark inside the book on my nightstand up in my room. I could call him, maybe see if we can hang out. But is it too soon? Will he think I’m clingy? Will he even answer me if I call him, or will he let it go to voice mail and call me back hours later, after it gets too late to do anything. After considering for a while, I decide to wait until ten to call. After all, he gave me his number in the first place. He didn’t have to. And I never asked. So I don’t see why he would even need to give me a fake number.
He must have enjoyed my company.
My parents come down and eat the crêpes, and we watch TV together for a little in the living room, until eleven, when I walk upstairs, grabbing a phone on the way to my bedroom. My fingers waver over the numbers. I’m still not sure I want to call him. But then again, when will I ever see him again if he doesn’t answer? I literally have nothing to lose, not even a virtual friend on Facebook. Nothing. I dial the numbers and call him.
The phone rings for a solid minute before I finally get an answer. Sighing in relief, I’m honestly just glad I didn’t get to the point where he didn’t answer and called me back later and my mom or dad answered. Considering we just met, I realize how awkward that could me. Maybe I should ask if I can get a new cell phone again. Tell my parents I’m ready and that I want it back. But they’ll ask me why I want it so soon. They’ll think I’m healing well, think I’m already whole, when I’m not. That moving here was a perfect idea. Which, I mean . . . I guess it was. But I am certainly not whole, certainly not ready to just . . . move on.
“Hey. Who’s this?”
It’s definitely Daniel’s voice. I almost drop the phone in relief, and admittedly, a little shock. He sounds different over the phone though, a little huskier.
“Do you forget who you give your number out to that easily?” I ask, without answering. “Jeez, how many girls fall into that sappy spinning-around-and-buying-books trap? You must have all the girls hanging off your arm.”
“Oh yes,” he says. “Last night, I slept with Emalyee. Oh wait . . . That’s just my cat. My bad . . .”
Daniel bursts into a fit of laughter, and I join in.
“So, Aspen . . .” he says. “Why did you finally decide to call? I mean it’s already been over 24 hours. Was I not entrancing enough for you, or do you already have a Prince Charming?”
“Well, I’m kind of looking for a replacement,” I say. “And I guess you fit the job description.”
He laughs again, and I chuckle as well.
“But really,” I say, growing serious.
“Why do you do that?” he asks.
“Do what?” I ask, not aware I’m actually . . . You know . . . Doing anything mildly strange.
YOU ARE READING
365 Cups of Coffee
Novela JuvenilWhen she moves to Granite Falls, New Hampshire, Aspen Laurent knows she is running away. After witnessing a mass murder at her high school just months prior, she is harboring not only a terribly vivid memory of the bloodshed, but a secret as well, o...
