The phone vibrates and when I lift it up, it’s Sarah.
Fucking hell.
There it goes again.
She’s going to call me, I know it. Rolling my eyes, I wait for it, and like clockwork, as I snap my fingers, my phone starts ringing.
There’s a quick pulse in my chest when I think, for just a split second, that it could be Gabby calling, but of course it’s not.
“Hello?” I say tiredly.
“You’re ready to pull that stick out of your ass?” Sarah says over the phone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really you don’t know what I’m talking about? The way you were so nasty today youmusthave a stick up your ass. I want to give you some space so I figured it was enough time that you should’ve let the shit fall out by now or reabsorb whatever it is you have hanging there.”
A bubble of laughter escapes me.
“You sure have a way with words,” I muse.
“I have a way with my mouth too. Something you seemed to have forgotten.”
“I remember,” I huff playfully as my fingers type away before closing my laptop and trying to quell the anxiety that I feel.
“Do you wanna come over?”
The hesitation honestly baffles me because it’s not like I’m even considering going over there. OK maybe a little bit, because honestly, I need a distraction, or maybe that’s just what I’m trying to tell myself because that’s what I’m used to. But my heart isn’t in it. My body still remembers that I get the tiniest bit of relief from coming inside of Sarah.
But that’s not what I want.
And I can’t talk to Sarah about what’s bothering me.
“I’m tired Sarah and I told you this between us… we need to chill.”
“You’re not married though. And you’re not marrying me either duh. You’re the one making everything weird Lincoln. Is Gabrielle there right now?”
I honestly don’t want to answer that question.
“Sorry I got to go Sarah.”
I hang up the phone before Sarah can even protest.
I look at the time on my screen: 2:47 a.m.
Where the hell is Gabby?
Texting her again, I pause and then opt to call her instead.
The phone just rings. No answer.
“What the fuck,” I whisper under my breath, dialing the number again and pacing around my living room.
“Pick up. Pick up,” I whisper, pacing faster.
Nothing.
“What the fuck is going on?” I hiss through my teeth.
