Sophie:Yes. Hi.
I watch the message send. Then nothing. But then…
Unknown Number:Are you alright? I feel bad after… this morning.
I hesitate, fingers curling tightly around my phone. My chest aches at the memory of his voice, the way he’d looked at me like I was a mistake. The way he’d pushed me away.
I should lie. Tell him I’m fine, that I don’t care. That he didn’t hurt me. But I don’t.
Sophie:I could be better…
He reads it immediately, thank you read receipts. But he doesn’t reply.
I stare at the screen, at those cursed little dots appearing and disappearing over and over again. Tormenting me.
Finally, a response.
Unknown Number:So could I.
Unknown Number:I’m outside… up the street.
My breath catches in my throat. No way.
I scramble upright, heart racing as I glance towards the window. It’s dark outside. The time on my phone reads 11:04 pm. I slept the entire rest of the day away.
But none of that matters.
I throw back my blankets and rush to my dresser, grabbing the first thing I find. Sweatpants and a hoodie it is. There’s no time to think, no time to hesitate.
Because if I do, he might be gone by the time I get outside. There’s no chance I’m wasting this opportunity.
I creep down the stairs, barely even breathing. Carefully dodging the creaky steps I know by heart, I make as little noise as possible. The house is silent, everyone likely already in bed. Luck is on my side tonight.
The moment I’m out the front door, I’m running. I find him where I knew he’d be. Parked in the same spot where he’d dropped me off weeks ago, the night I’d spent at his house. The night everything changed, that everything was set in motion. Had I known then that we’d be here now…
He’s waiting in his black hatchback, his face visible from the orange glow of the streetlight. I reach for the passenger door, but before I can pull the handle, it pops open from the inside. An invitation.
I slide into the leather seat, slamming the door shut against the cold. He doesn’t speak right away, just reaches over and turns on my heated seat.
He’s so damn thoughtful, even the smallest things. It kills me.
“Hi, Soph.”
His voice is low and hoarse.
“Hi,” I whisper back. Now that I’m here, with him, I’m not sure what to say. My mind whirls with a thousand things, but suddenly, I’m terrified to speak. Afraid that if I do, I’ll break the spell and send him running for the hills.
He clears his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. “I shouldn’t be here.”
I stiffen.
“But…” he exhales roughly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I was sitting at home and all I could do was think of you. Of Saturday night, and this morning… the way I spoke to you. And the guilt, fuck. The guilt is killing me.”
I swallow, hands fisted in my lap. “Guilt?”
He exhales sharply. “Because I lied.”
My breath catches in my throat.
