Okay then.
I stare at our messages.
This doesn't have to mean anything at all. We're not looking to get anything out this situation, right? I texted a number that was given to me, it wasn't who I thought it was. And for some reason we've both kept up the ruse of responding to each other. But now, I'm lost on how to respond from here. Maybe that means it's time to give this up.
My phone rings in my hand from my alarm; it's time for my client meeting.
I'm thankful for the reminder and honestly for the distraction. I drop my phone onto the coffee table and head back to my computer. Maybe I'll respond, maybe I won't. But for now, it'll have to wait.
7
Weslyn
I'm two warm beers, one disgustingly strong margarita, and four shots of tequila into this party I came to. I told myself I wasn't going to get this wasted at the house party, but after my boss made my four-hour shift an eight-hour shift—after he promised not to do just that—I think I've earned this. I also feel some type of way about not hearing from Kyran strangely enough, wondering if my comment about college was the line in the sand. It's fine is so, but something disappoints me about that thought, so I let my night be run by the vibes of my over-thinking mind and the vibes are telling me to drink more alcohol.
I'm going for my second shitty cocktail; some concoction of tequila and orange juice . . . I think. Things are starting to feel extremely fuzzy, but I don't think about it too much as the music bumps against the speakers, creating a wave of frequency to vibrate over me due to the bass. Everyone is laughing, dancing, playing games, or making out and I'm just here. Vibing, I guess. It's what I like about these parties. I don't feel like so much of an outsider even though I don't know anyone here personally and no one bothersme.
Though, after drinking so much so quick, I feel the urge to pee, so I take my red solo cup and weave through the crowd to the bathroom. Of course, there's a line. I join the back of it and throw my head back in a slightly tipsy gesture, thinking about how I should really slow down my drinking and . . . Kyran.
Why hasn't he texted me back? Is it because I'm in school? What if he's older than me?
But we're not trying to date. So why would any of that even matter? Or maybe his wife caught him and they've been fighting about me all day. I groan at that idea, knowing it could be a very real scenario.
All my drunken thoughts go through my head as I pull my phone out of my back pocket before slamming the rest of whatever booze was in my cup and I open the text thread. It's been about ten hours since I've heard from him last, and honestly, I shouldn't care. But I really wish I knew why he didn't respond.
The line scoots up and when I take a step forward, I accidentally bump into the girl in front of me causing my phone to crash to the floor.
Shit. Luckily the person I bumped doesn't seem too bothered by my drunken mishap. I reach down for my phone, picking it up and assessing it for damage before attempting to place it back in my back pocket but something stops me.
I hear a faded voice coming from my hand and I look down at my phone to see that a phone call is in progress and Kyran's name is displayed on the screen.
Shit, when did that happen?
I frantically end the call, not wanting to check if he was actually on the phone or not, and I continue to wait in line for the bathroom like nothing happened.
8
Kyran
I wasn't expecting a call from Weslyn to come through, and I don't know what possessed me to answer it, but I was curious. Way too curious to where my heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest as I hit the answer button. And when the call connected, I did not expect to hear the loud bass of music drowning out the background and part of me felt a bit worried for some reason.
I haven't texted her back because I don't know what to say. And even now after all the hours that have passed, still nothing comes to my head. But I have been thinking about texting her all day. I've wanted to. I just don't want to force it and I don't even know if she cares.
I was sitting on the couch, beer in hand, while watching a movie when her call came through and I had to double take to make sure I wasn't imagining things, likely manifesting them because all I've been able to think about is our very small conversation.
Now, I stare at the phone, call ended, and something nags at me to finally text her back.
10:25pm
You called? Are you okay? I heard loud music…
I ask, wanting to leave an open-ended question hoping it will force her to respond.
Her text bubble indicates a response is on its way.
10:27pm
Accidental
