avocado toast & other stories

iii.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach, and his fingertips feel like they're drenched in sweet, sticky syrup as Kai types in her number (her number!) at somewhere between midnight and one in the morning. Just call back tomorrow, he tells himself. She's probably sleeping, dipshit.

But his hand slips, and his thumb presses the green button before he can help it.

Kai stares and stares and stares while thinking he must have the worst goddamn luck in the world if things like these happen to him on the regular. His voice comes out in a quiet, tiny whisper: "Hello?"

There's shuffling on the other side of the line, and he just feels like burrowing into a million blankets and never coming back out to see sunshine. "Who the fuck—"

Genesis's voice is low, a bit raspy, and Kai bites harshly into his lower lip as his eyes squeeze shut almost painfully. "I'm sorry," he breathes, stumbling over his words. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't meant to call you right now—"

Cue a sharp intake of breath. "Kai Jeon."

As a rough shiver runs up the back of his spine, he squeaks (like, he really squeaks) and slaps a palm to his forehead just to see if he's alive. Because there's a beautiful, beautiful girl on the other end of this phone call probably half asleep, and she remembers his name.

She remembers his name.

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, cheeks heating to resemble a fiery comet. "Yes, that's me. Kai Jeon."

"It's late," she comments, tone all-too cool and breezy for a midnight conversation. "So are you going to ask me, pretty boy? I miss my pillow." Genesis yawns and lets out a light laugh as he's stunned into silence.

Kai feels like running five miles and breaking into a sobbing fit simultaneously, and he'd probably do it if it weren't for the unfortunate timing. "Ask—ask you what?"

The girl lets out a slow, controlled breath, and just as Kai opens his mouth to save his horrible attempt at flirting (because what is flirting, really?), she comes to his rescue once again. "Ask me anything you want," she tells him, and he can picture the perfect smile on her lips: a little rough and a little smudged with the barest hint of strawberry rogue, but a glimpse of unrefined beauty. "But asking me out on a date would be my top preference."

Thank the heavens Kai hadn't been drinking anything, or else he would've choked. "That's not—Genesis," he admits, falling around in his head and getting lost in his maze of thoughts. "God, you're not real. This isn't happening."

On the other end, Genesis clicks her tongue and mutters something too low for his ears to pick up, asking, "Well? I'm still waiting."

Kai feels too hot and too cold all at once, and it's like the stars align or something because he grins as his back slides over the kitchen wall and he sits down on the hardwood floor. Just ask her, he chants. Just ask her, just ask her, just ask her. "Genesis Vaughn," he nearly whispers, fingertips curling in on themselves. "I think you're beautiful. Would you like—like to go on a date? With me?"

He feels like falling.

"Yeah," she murmurs gently. "Yeah, I really would."

And he's still falling, but Kai manages to land on his feet for once. Maybe it won't be so terrifying after all.

***

Genesis has always believed that when the trees shed their golden, auburn leaves to hold the weight of snow, it's a sign that she should let go of something as well. It's not really a superstition as much as it is a paranoid thought, but she likes to believe that if the trees are preparing for a harsh winter, then so should she.