Page 38 of Injustice and Absolution

“Oh god...” I cover my face, trying to hide from the crushing embarrassment and judgment of my empty room.

Itisempty, right?

Slowly, I remove my hands from my face and look around, praying I didn’t convince Drew to stay overnight. Thankfully, no one is here.

Quickly, I lift my covers and notice I’m no longer dressed but in my robe. That’s when I remember Drew had me change so I wouldn’t go to bed in my beer-soaked clothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I roll over onto my side and spot a bottle of water on my nightstand. I don’t remember putting it there, but my cotton mouth turns into an arid desert at the sight of it.

When I reach for the bottle, I see a few more things littering the furniture’s surface.

Two round, orange tablets and a note.

Forgetting all about the water, I grab the note and delight in the flutter of butterflies flitting through my stomach as soon as I read it.

Drew - 717-555-2108

Call me in the event you still

want to kiss me in the morning.

With the paper in my hands, I lay back on my pillow, wrestling with feelings of both irritation and thrill.

I’m surprised at myself, but I find I definitely still want to kiss him.

But then there’s Royce...

What about Royce?

I’m still not over him...

He’s not interested. He told you to find someone else.

I’m nothing if not a people pleaser.

No, fuck Royce. Don’t do this for him.

Rip off the Band-Aid.

Say goodbye to any future you mistakenly imagined you could have with him, and give yourself a chance to be truly happy.

For once.

I think it’s safe to assume my subconscious isoverRoyce. Before I can talk myself out of it, I unplug my phone from its charger—also something I’m certain Drew did—and pull up my messaging app.

I type in his number, but then I freeze. What the hell do I say? “It’s Delilah. I still want to kiss you?”

Hello is usually a good start.

Another point for my subconscious.

I shake my head, hoping to clear my own stupidity from it in the process, then type out a message.

Hello

I continue staring at the phone, hoping a response comes through. While I wait, I save his name and number to my contacts. After two minutes, I realize he probably has no idea who sent the message since he doesn’t have my phone number yet.

As I begin typing another message to let him know who I am, his response pops up.

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