Cass instantly passed out, and I listened to his heavy breathing for a couple of minutes before I reached for my phone. I swiped and tapped and then waited.
He picked up after two rings. “Hello?”
“Hi,” I said.
“Oh, hey…”
“Did I wake you up?” I asked—his voice sounded off. I wouldn’t have called him if I thought he’d be asleep. It was just past 1:00 a.m., and Luke told me that his bedtime was around 2:00 on Saturday nights.
“I just fuck around on my computer,” he’d explained. “One minute, I’ll be on YouTube watching a Jimmy Kimmel interview with Matt Damon, and then a half hour later, I’ll be on Wikipedia reading about the history of vampires.” I’d since dubbed his nocturnal activities “Saturday-Night Spirals,” and now woke up to random facts on Sunday mornings.
Abraham Lincoln was a fan of imported oysters,he’d messaged me last week.
“No.” He released a deep breath. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“You okay, though?”
There was a second or two of silence, but then I heard him clear his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice low. “I’m just not great at talking on the phone. My sisters never even let me order the pizza.”
I grinned. “But you’re not ordering pizza. You’re talking to me.”
Another moment of quiet, before: “I guess that’s true.”
“How was your day?” I asked, rolling onto my back. Cass didn’t react when I accidentally kicked his side. He slept like the dead.
“It was obviously a Saturday,” Luke replied. “I went to class, and then took a nap…”
I smiled. Luke never went to lunch on Wednesdays or Saturdays, both half days. Instead, he went back to his room to get some shut-eye before cross-country in the afternoon.
“…and I had this nightmare where a ham was chasing me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, come again? Ahamwas chasing you?”
“Yeah, it’s this recurring thing from when I was a kid.”
“Are we talking a honey-glazed ham? Or…”
“A slice of deli meat, with Mickey Mouse hands and feet.”
I shook my head. “You are soweird.”
“What do you think it means?”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that.”
“You aren’t the leading expert in dream interpretation?”
“If only.”
He didn’t respond, probably smirking.
“Okay, moving on.” I grabbed one of my pillows and hugged it. “What happened post-siesta?”
“I had a very nutritional lunch from Tuck: a chocolate muffin. And then I stopped by the mail room—”
“For your Halloween care package?” I interrupted. So far this year, Luke’s mom had sent him two care packages, and apparently she hinted that the next several were going to befestive.
“No, not the care package,” he said. “We’retwodays into October. Calm down.”
