COSMOS | Complete

CHAPTER 17: A & A

ASHER

His name blinks up on my screen, and at first, I'm certain that my phone is malfunctioning.

With a closer look, however, I realize that the name Aaron Blakely is clearly written across the device, and every pixel is fine. A normal call. With Aaron, nothing is normal.

I think about what Chloe would say, watching me pick up a call from Aaron Blakely. I'm beginning to suspect that she could care less, though guilt gnaws at me all the same.

I let Aaron's call die in my arms, hands frozen completely to my sides. What reason is there for him to call? No relation. No project. For all I know, this is a dare, and Aaron has a garage full of booze.

When I don't pick up, he calls again. And again. After four times, my fingers are beginning to twitch. This must be important – Aaron would never waste more than a few rings on anyone, including Chris.

On his fifth call, I snatch up the phone, and shakily press accept. My motions are a blur, the actions not registering with my mind. Before I know it, I have the receiver pressed to my ear, waiting for some perverted question and the faint blast of party music.

Except, there is none. Instead, I am met with silence.

I mash the phone to my ear, searching for any slight snigger or rush of breath. Nothing, nothing.

After a few moments of silence, Aaron clears his throat, prompting: "Asher? You there?"

As if my limbs have turned to ice, I grip the device to my head, not uttering a word.

"Huh." I hear the rustle of sheets in the background. "Is this someone else? Did Asher try to program some fake number into my phone?"

Silence passes. I think Aaron's about to hang up.

The thought of him ending the call, empty handed, leaves my stomach in knots. After all that he is done for me, I can suffer through one conversation, right? I don't know what he needs, I don't know why he called. It is not my right to turn him away.

I read Aaron well, living a life with one face that I recognize. His voice is sincere. This is not a prank.

"Hi," I blurt out suddenly. It sounds as if I've coughed up the word and it's a little compact pack of letters with no meaning, thrown through the receiver.

Aaron lets out a surprised laugh. "Asher? Is that you?"

"Yeah." I roll my eyes, embarrassed that it took me so long to respond. "Listen, if it's some trick to get booze, just text me beforehand." Then, under my breath: "I'd have to comply, considering all that you've done for me."

His voice is muffled and blurred, as if his lips are lazily brushing together to form the words on his mouth. "No, no," he says. "I know this is weird as hell, it feels the same way on my side ..."

I snort. "'Weird' doesn't cut it."

That earns a laugh from him, but it's short and clipped, as if he doesn't know what he's laughing about. Aaron pauses, thinking over his words. "You say the truth," he says, drawing out the words slowly. It sounds as if he is coming to some conclusion.

"Most of the time," I respond. When it comes to Aaron, many of my opinions are biased by personal events – he knows that.

Aaron's next words catch me by complete surprise: "Can I talk to you?"

My jaw hits the floor. Talk? Civilized, polite conversation? I'm not sure if he is capable of such a feat; though, the same applies to me. Conversing with Aaron without taking a jab seems close to impossible.