“Okay, then. You should go talk to them. Night!” I bristled.
“Wait!” Slight urgency laced his tone. “What’s your name? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Why do you want to know?” I retorted as I rubbed my forehead.
“Well, how else can I save you in my phone?” he asked matter-of-factly.
Baby 6?I snorted.
“You won’t need to, because after this call, we won’t need to interact anymore.” I paused. Did I just hear…amoan?
“Oh, I promise you that we will,” he said in a low growl, and my cheeks grew heated.
A shuffle to the left distracted me.
“Zeus!”
The sneaky thing was always trying to get inside my school bag.
“That’s a disappointing name,” he said.
“My name’s not Zeus!”
“Weeell, Not Zeus, I’m still waiting.”
I hesitated. He was a complete stranger. I really shouldn’t tell him.
“The sun is almost rising!” he singsonged.
I plunged deeper under my blanket. “Yvaine.”
A sharp intake of air whooshed from the speaker.
“Yvaine,” he parroted. My stomach churned at my name being rolled out like that.
“And what’s yours?” I fiddled with the hem of my pajamas.
I really wanted to place a name to this voice. It had a dangerous ring, almost solemn. Not that I would ever tell him, obviously.
“Ah, I can’t tell you that. You know what they say…total stranger danger,” he said in an amused drawl, almost distracting me—until I realized what he said.
“Fine. I didn’t want to know anyway!”
“But how will you save me on your phone, bunny?”
“Do Not Answer. Or The Rudest.”
His next laugh stole my breath away. Did he find everything amusing, or just me? I wasn’t that funny.
“Bunny, honestly,” he chided, “not very innovative. You seem smarter than that.”
There was a challenging ring there.
“Okay.” I paused, racking my brain, demanding the perfect nickname. “Rudolph.”
Lame, I thought as soon as I said it. Since when did I get like this? And why did I even care?
A genuine, deep laugh expanded from the speaker and vibrated through my ears. “Rudolph sounds about right, Yvaine the Yva.”
