Page 67 of A Secret and a Lie
“Hey.” I clear my throat. “I’m glad you called. This is honestly the best part of my week. Actually, that’s not true; this is the highlight of my month.”
Dear God, I haven’t been this nervous to talk to a man since I was fifteen, but I’m too excited to finally be talking to him to see how pathetic or stupid that might be. I want him to like me as much as I like him.
“Must be having a rough month, then,” he says with a chortle that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I could win the lottery tomorrow, and this phone call would still be better.”
My nerves abate as this conversation becomes more comfortable, like we’ve talked a million times before now. I’ve wanted to suggest talking on the phone for months, but I was afraid to burst the bubble of happiness I’ve been living in as we exchanged messages.
“You know, my best friend, Drake, was sure you were going to turn out to be an old man.”
The connection is spotty, cutting in and out a bit, but I’m able to piece together his statement, and I laugh. “Given that we met online, I don’t know if I should be glad you have such a practical friend or concerned that my own best friend, Corinne, never suggested that you were anything but utterly sexy.” I capture my bottom lip between my teeth, and smile as I add, “You are sexy…aren’t you?”
He laughs again, and I imagine what his smile might look like. “I haven’t received any direct complaints.”
The connection isn’t great, and I can only make out every few words he says, but I’m too thrilled to be speaking to him to care. “What do you look like?”
“Oh, you know, standard guy. Brown hair, tanned skin, big-ass muscles.”
I giggle, picturing him exactly as he stated and smile. Somehow, I think he might be selling himself short. “What about you?”
“Black hair, pale skin, legs for days.”
The phone line crackles again, and I squint as I decipher what he’s saying. “Funny, I imagined you as a blonde, but either way, I can finally tell Drake that he was wrong when he told me you’d have a beer gut and three kids.”
I hum, leaning back in my desk chair in my bedroom, gazing through the grimy window. “Are you one of those guys who only dates blondes or something?”
“Definitely not. It makes no difference to me. I bet you’re beautiful, no matter your hair color.” My heart flutters and I’d do anything to be in the same room right now. He speaks again, but the statement cuts out entirely.
“I’m glad I haven’t disappointed you,” I chime, replying to the part I heard.
“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”
A grin overtakes my face as my stomach clenches. If we were together, would he tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear as he saidthat or brush his lips over my cheek bone? Either way, something about his proclamation makes me think that he’d be looking at me like I was the center of his universe.
As he speaks into the phone again, only tiny pockets of sound swim down the invisible line.
“Hello?”
He sighs, followed by a faint rustling, and I wonder if he’s moving. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m on a satellite phone and the reception is bad.”
“It’s got to be hard to never be able to really hear the people you’re talking to when you get to call home.” I can’t imagine never being able to talk to Corinne or Marcus when I wanted to.
“I don’t call home much, but I’m hoping I have more reasons to now.”
“Oh, I’m definitely hoping we get to do this again.” I smile, tucking my feet beneath me as I shift in my chair.
Just then, the echo of 3 Doors Down’s “Here Without You” filters through the phone. It’s loud, and my lip curls as I groan into the speaker. “I’ve hated that song since 2002.”
He chuckles, the sound of the music growing fainter as though he’s walking further from the source. “Sorry, I was near the gym, and it gets noisy. You do realize that song is only a few years old, though, not thirty.”
I giggle, shaking my head at his light teasing. It’s only then that I realize that I haven’t stopped smiling the entire time we’ve been on the phone. Have I ever beenthisinto a man before? “Yeah, I know, but I’ve never liked it. It’s sad.”
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance at the screen to find Leo’s name flashing at me like a soundless siren. I want to send him to voicemail, but the last time I did that, I ended up with a bruised kidney. I want to think it’d be worth enduring Leo’s brutality to stay on the phone, but if he kills me over this, I’d die without ever being able to meet him in person. I want that, dream about it, and I need to stay alive to make that happen.
Reluctantly, I tell him, “Hey, I’ve got to go, I’m getting a call that I can’t miss. Can we do this again…please?”
There’s an air of desperation that clouds my last word and I swallow hard. I want to apologize, explain why I’m ending this conversation to talk to someone else, but I don’t. I wouldn’t know how to put that into words.
