The apartment stills. As it does, my chest loosens like my body’s been waiting for it. I head to my room, dump my bag by the bed, and for the first time all day, I let myself open the forum.
Two notifications. Both from her.
My mouth pulls into a grin before I can stop it, and I hate how immediate the reaction is. Like my mood is a switch she can flip without even trying.
I open the messages.
LittleTooMuch: Did you sleep at all?
LittleTooMuch: Dumb question. Your situation is about as helpless as mine.
I type back fast, like I’m relaxed. Like I haven’t been waiting to talk to her again since six a.m., a few hours after finally saying goodnight.
NumberEleven: same old, same old last night, unfortunately. you?
Her dots appear immediately.
LittleTooMuch: Ugh same. I even tried chamomile tea. It wasn’t worth the experiment.
A small chuckle escapes me against my will.
NumberEleven: tea is kinda gross.
LittleTooMuch: THANK YOU. Finally, someone says it.
NumberEleven: that’s me. always the one to say what everyone else is thinking.
LittleTooMuch: Any big plans tonight?
I pause, thumbs hovering.
The answer is no.
And I’m not getting into why the idea of yelling over music in a house packed with drunk freshmen feels like a personal hell or that I’d honestly rather talk to her than do literally anything else.
So I don’t.
NumberEleven: nah. roommate tried to guilt me into it. but i resisted.
LittleTooMuch: Strong-willed and knows what he wants. I respect that.
A moment passes before another message appears.
LittleTooMuch: Unless you just stayed in to talk to me…
My chest does something stupid, and even though no one can see me, the tips of my ears heat up.
Blushing over a message. Real smooth, Bennett.
NumberEleven: don’t flatter yourself.
LittleTooMuch: Too late. I’m fully flattered.
NumberEleven: good. you should be.
LittleTooMuch: You ever think about how weird this is?
My stomach dips. Does she not want to talk to me anymore? Is this not the part of her day she looks forward to like I do?
