I open it to a random page. Oscar Wilde is advocating self-love.
Been there, done me.
The next few quotes fail to inspire me.
Then Aristotle appears with this gem: “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”
I look around for the fruit.
Nothing.
All I see is a lonely, hopeless future—
My phone buzzes.
Excitement soars from the toes to the top of my head. My sweet fruit is here!
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Testing if this is really you. –Caspian Stone
My heart thunders as I stare at the message. He signed it with his whole name. Who does that? I’m unwell. I save the number and breathe.
ANTONIO
it’s really me
ANTONIO
(antonio di scotti)
ANTONIO
from cove bay
I launch myself onto my bed, bury my face in the pillow, and let out a sound that should not be humanly possible. My phone buzzes.
CASPIAN
Are you trying to imply that including my whole name was redundant?
I laugh.
ANTONIO
just wanted to make sure you don’t confuse me with another antonio from another town
CASPIAN
No risk of that happening. There’s only one Antonio in my life.
I stop breathing. He keeps going.
CASPIAN
Anyway, I’m happy for the confirmation. Getting your number felt almost too good to be true. Like a hallucination. :)
I make another inhuman noise. If he always texts like this, I won’t live for long. My heart can’t take it. And that old-fashioned smiley? Too adorable.
