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𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 // 𝔀𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓼
"Hello?"
She had let the phone ring a little too long. I didn't think she was going to pick up even though she had just texted me.
"Hi," I smiled through the phone, "what are you doing still up?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she stated, very matter of fact.
There was a pause, but before I could speak, she gave me an answer.
"I was thinking about ..." she started to trail off into a mumble.
"You were thinking about ..." I wanted her to finish her sentence. I could feel frustration build because I was hopeful. But for what? That she was thinking about me?
"Just about what to write," she said quietly, another long pause before she spoke again.
"I haven't been able to write anything for a while. I can't force it, but I hate not being able to write anything. You know?"
I laid in bed, listening to her. Is that what she was doing earlier? If so, did I bother her? I shut my eyes and rubbed my forehead. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot...
"You still there?" She whispered, as if she was trying to be careful as to how loud she spoke, not like before when she did it out of uneasiness.
"Yeah.." I breathed, "Yeah, sorry. Why do you feel the need to though?"
She was quiet again.
Suddenly, she changed the subject, "why did you end up calling me?"
It was obvious she wasn't going to answer my question. I wasn't going to push it right now.
"I wanted to talk to you." I wanted to hear your voice.
She sighed, "well I'm sorry this isn't the best conversation," and let out a small laugh, almost like another sigh.
"I don't mind," I said before I asked her what I wanted to earlier, "would you possibly want to meet up tomorrow.. for coffee maybe?"
It was quiet again. And I heard her hum a little on the other end. She was cute, in an endearing kind of way.
"You're not going to run away from me again, are you?" She said shyly. You could tell by her tone, she was trying to make a joke.
"Low blow," I groaned, "I promise. I want-" I paused for a second before finishing, "to see you."
I don't know why it felt different. Why I wanted to know more about her. She didn't say much, but I saw what she wrote. Those pages with her lyrics. She could seriously write, and she spilled every ounce of herself into her songs. And her voice. Despite how quiet she might have been, it's what drew me to her in the first place. It all seemed familiar.
