Harrison
I know it’s late, but…
Harrison
Just checking in on you.
Harrison
Please tell me you’re not asleep yet.
I rub my eyes, pulling myself into a sitting position. The clock reads twelve-thirty-four, and my heart starts racing because something in his message sounds urgent. Several worst-case scenarios run through my head as I hastily text him back.
Me
Yeah, I’m awake.
Silence stretches for a moment while I watch the three dots dance on my screen.
Harrison
Thank Christ. Open the door.
Open the door?
What door?
Where is he?
What’s going on?
Me
What? What are you talking about?
Harrison
Open your door, Harp. I just need a minute.
“Shit.” A rush of adrenaline courses through me as I stumble off the couch. I don’t even bother to look in a mirror, my hair most likely a wild mess, the imprint of the pillow I was laying on undoubtedly embedded into my cheek. I look like a troll in my sleep shorts and tank top, but Harrison needs me.
Something’s wrong.
My mind races with possibilities.
He’s here?
Why is he here?
He shouldn’t be.
He has an early morning.
He should be in bed…
Did he miss his flight?
Did something happen?
