When Stars Align

The Phone Call

After a long day at work, Oliver walked slowly and tiredly into his apartment, falling onto the walls then springing back up again in shock. His apartment was a work in progress; there was a chip in the paint here and there and the floors were creaky under his feet. One thing in his apartment was complete; he had a perfectly displayed bookcase, filled to the brim with science books of any kind. He poured himself a drink, plucked one of his hundreds of books from the dark timbered shelves, and found himself a seat. With a deep sigh, he sunk into the chair, his eyelids were heavy, and every now and then, just for a moment, he closed his eyes, the sensation of her touch running rapidly through his body as he thought back through the day.

His cheeks dimpled and the corners of his eyes wrinkled, just at the thought of her. His head fell to his shoulder, and as he opened his eyes he saw his telephone on his desk. He jumped from the chair and ran to his bag. He searched for a while, unable to find the crumpled up piece of paper she had given him earlier in the morning. Confused and to a certain degree, worried, he tipped his bag upside down, and watched all of its contents fall directly to the floor. Keys, copious amounts of paper, a coffee cup, and a glasses case. No sign of a number. In a flash, the papers were everywhere, there were coffee remnants on the floor, and the keys had found their way across the apartment. He opened his glasses case, hopeful to find the piece of her she had left with him after their lengthy chat on the train. To no avail. Infuriated, he checked the pockets on his navy blue trousers, and yet again found everything but what he was searching for. He looked up, scratching his head, scrunching his nose in confusion. His hand fell slowly from his dark hair as he stared at the coat he had slung lightly on the chair by the phone. With a spring in his step, he ran to check the pockets of his heavy winter coat.

He felt the piece of paper lightly brush his fingertips, and immediately removed it from the deep pocket. He flattened the piece of paper and dialled the number within thirty seconds. Hardly able to stand still, he held the phone gently to his ear, waiting impatiently to hear her voice. "Hello?" she answered. Her voice was angelic, like music to his ears. It took him a while to answer her, he got so lost in her tone. His voice became husky, "Hi Sabrina, it's Oliver," he began to quiver uncontrollably.

"Oh, hi!" She said excitedly.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the diner tomorrow night?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone before she responded.

"No, thank you," she whispered.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Before he could respond, she began to laugh. It was a fruity, fun laugh. She kindly apologised and explained she was only joking. He let out a long sigh of relief; both because she was joking and because the hardest part was over. They made plans over the phone, he jotted down her address and planned to pick her up. The giggling continued as their conversation wound down. "Goodnight, Sabrina," he softly spoke, pressing the phone closely to his ear.

"Goodnight, Oliver. Sweet dreams," she responded politely before hanging up the phone.

Simultaneously, he put down the phone and picked up the piece of small notebook he just scribbled in. His handwriting wasn't neat, however was legible. He glanced at it, and smiled with his eyes. He hit it against the palm of his hand before tossing it onto the desk. He walked over to his book and his drink. He put the book away, and then picked up the glass. He gently swirled the contents of the drink before sculling. He let out a sigh, placed the glass back on the table gently and made his way into his room. The smile didn't leave his face, awaiting the moment he got to see her once more, not knowing if he could resist the urge to kiss her any longer.