Page 62 of Never Have I Ever
And now I’m thinking of your lips.
I can’t contain the smile I let out. I love that he thought of me when buying me flowers. I love that he asked the woman what to buy. I love that he’s thinking of kissing me again because that’s all I can think of.
I’m thinking of that night all over again. Loving what and how it happened but hating how it ended. I haven’t seen him since. We don’t really talk outside of the ‘lessons.’ He texts me whenever he wants to see me, and I reply, but other than that, we don’t really communicate. I never text him, and he’s always the first one to reach out.
I don’t want to be the kind of girl who blows up his phone. We see each other a few times a week, sometimes less, which is fine. I guess it’s what Grayson wants, but if it were up to me, I’d be seeing him a lot more.
I pick up the cardboard box, opening it up to reveal two brownies. He got me brownies, too?
I reach for my phone to text him. I never do that, but this deserves at least a text. Maybe I’ll even ask him to come over so I can thank him properly. I tap my phone, and it’s black. I tap it again, but the screen isn’t turning on.
I groan. It must be dead. I had it on the whole time in class. I usually turn it off so it won’t accidentally go off in the middle of the lecture hall, but this time I forgot, and now it was dead.
I head to my bedroom and throw it on the nightstand, grab my charger, and plug it in.
My eyes catch Leila’s dress still folded up and lying on the couch in front of me. Might as well get started on it now if I want it to be finished anytime soon. I lift myself off the bed and grab the dress, heading to the kitchen.
I place it on the table and bring my sewing equipment with me. The sunlight blares into the apartment from the huge windows, making it light up. The brightness of the apartment is what I love most about this place.
As soon as I start to unpin the dress, my stomach rumbles, making me groan. I forgot to eat all day, and I don’t have time to cook, not when I need to finish this dress.
I eye the brownies on the counter and bring one with me. I look back at the cardboard box that's sitting on the counter. I don't know how long I'll be working on this, so I might as well have the other brownie now to tide me over until dinner. I grab both of them and head back to the table. Brownies for lunch aren’t ideal, but they will do until I’m done with the dress. I ravish the brownies, dying to get back to finishing this design.
After about twenty minutes of trying to work on this dress, my skin feels cold. I shiver, feeling chills on the surface of my skin. I rub my arms, trying to warm them up.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mouth feels dry. I need a drink. I get up and fill a cup with water, downing the whole thing.
My head jerks when I hear a tapping noise. What the hell is that? I look out of my window, thinking it’s rain, but it’s pure sunshine out there. The tapping noise won’t stop.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I check the faucet to make sure it’s closed. It is. I head to my bathroom to check the faucet in there. It’s closed.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My heartbeat starts to pick up. I feel it race against my chest. My breathing starts getting heavier and heavier. What the hell is that noise?
Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I need to call someone. I rush to my bedroom, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and cursing when the screen doesn’t turn on. I look behind the nightstand seeing the charger isn’t plugged in.
I can't take it anymore. It won't stop. The noise is everywhere, and it's getting faster, louder, and closer. I drag my body down the wall, sitting in a ball with my knees tucked under my chin. It’s everywhere.
The tapping noise doesn’t stop. It will never stop. I press my hands to my ears, begging it to stop. But it doesn’t.
In the distance, I hear a voice, and I burst out crying.
I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, and I try to crawl away, but the hand grips me tighter. I rip my eyes open and see Grayson crouched down in front of me.
Grayson is here. He’ll save me, everything is going to be okay.
“Rosie, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” he asks in a panicked voice.
“It’s everywhere,” I croak out.
“What is?”
“I don’t know. It won’t stop, Grayson. Make it stop, please.”
He tries to make me look at him, but I can’t. I bury my face in my knees. “Make what stop?”
