Page 92 of Always Red (Chasing Red 2)

Red had lectured me so much about leaving my clothes on the floor that I felt a little guilty. I briefly thought of getting up and picking them up off the floor.

But the bed felt so good, and there was no way she’d find out. And…

I could still smell her faintly on me. I could close my eyes and imagine her.

Maybe I’d postpone that shower till tomorrow.

She’d probably be asleep by now. She liked to sleep early.

But sometimes she’d forget to silence her phone and my texts would wake her up. She was such a light sleeper.

What was I supposed to do? I missed her. She wouldn’t move in with me yet, but I’d put an end to that soon. As soon as I got home, I’d drag her to see the three houses I’d lined up with the real estate agent.

When my cell rang, I was tempted to let it go to voicemail. But maybe Red was calling. I hit the button without looking at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Caleb.”

A huge smile split my face. It almost hurt.

“Who is this?” I asked seriously.

“It’s me.”

“Who?” I flipped on my back, settling against the pillows as I imagined her lying in her bed with her hair spread nicely on the pillow. She was probably wearing those tiny red shorts, and her legs would be bare and…

“Caleb?”

I cleared my throat. “Are you the girl who left underwear under my pillow? Because…you know, that’s not normal.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Pause. “What girl?”

I almost laughed. Almost.

“Wait a minute,” I teased, still in a very serious tone. “You sound like the girl who’s obsessed with me. The one who climbed through my bedroom window the other night.”

“Wait. That was you trying to climb through my bedroom window!”

When I heard her soft laughter, I closed my eyes and imagined her face: dark eyes shining with humor, red lips stretched into a beautiful smile.

“Yeah, I’m the obsessed girl who climbed through your window—and ripped off your eyebrows,” she finished.

“Huh?”

“Paper Towns. John Green?”

“Who the hell is John Green, and why would he rip off someone’s eyebrows? That’s…cruel.”

“No.” She snickered. “The one who wrote The Fault… Oh, never mind.”

Ah. Had to be one of the million books she read.

“Hi, Red,” I whispered after a moment.

“Hi, Caleb.”

I knew we were both smiling, feeling happy to hear each other’s voice on the phone.

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