Two days. I had to wait two days to see him, to see if he kept his word. His note was hidden in my drawer, and the number underneath. He said I could call him any time between 6 and 10 in the evening, any night, and that he'd always answer if he could. Now it was 7:38, and I wiggled my thumbs over my phone screen, willing myself for the 30th time to just type in the damn number, but I couldn't. Not him. Not now. I tossed my phone on my bed and groaned, burying my face in the pillow.
I missed him. It hadn't even been 24 hours since I'd last seen him, and I missed him like fucking hell. I replayed the moments over and over in my head – specifically, when he kissed me. Or when I kissed him. I couldn't remember who started it; I just knew that I'd done it. I finally fucking kissed him. Sure, it was less than I wanted (needed, at this point), but it made me feel warmth that nothing else had ever made me feel. Don't misunderstand me, I still wasn't head over heels for the guy, but I did know what he meant when he said he had a certain fondness for me.
My phone buzzed and I grabbed it, heart racing, and then frowned. It wasn't him, just some telemarketer. I looked up at my bedroom ceiling, wondering how I was going to last this whole weekend without him.
My friends were kinda mad at me because I didn't try to find them at the party, and even more mad because they heard I was making out with someone, and I wouldn't tell them who. I can't say I blamed them, but at the same time, I couldn't exactly tell them the truth about Gerard and I. Gerard and I. I said his name again softly, under my breath, and grinned. It was beautiful and unusual, and I couldn't imagine him having any other name.
Somewhere, at the back of my mind, him telling me that he wasn't my lover or my boyfriend nagged at me, but I dismissed it – it's not like he really meant much of what he said at those times. Did he?
I grinned – I think I had my excuse to call him.
Even with my excuse, it still took me 15 minutes and 6 tries to actually call him and stay on the phone. He answered on the third ring, and used his 'teacher voice'.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Way? It's –"
"You're the only student who has my number, so yeah, I know who this is." He said, but he sounded amused. I smiled.
"I have a question."
"I'm guessing it's not a homework question."
He sighed.
"We had homework?"
"Jesus Christ." He laughed.
"Anyway. I was wondering about a couple things."
"Ask away."
"At the dance, you said that you weren't my-"
"I remember."
"Did you mean it?"
"Well, yes."
"Oh."
"I'm not though."
"I just thought..."
"No, I didn't mean it like that."
"It's fine."
"Frank."
"It's really fine."
"Don't-"
"The other thing."
"Okay, fine. What's the other thing?"
"Does your threat still stand?"
There was silence for some time on the other end, and I grinned, forgetting, for the moment, the bitter rejection I'd just received.
