Jo
"YOU'VE REACHED ANDREW Pryce. I'm probably busy right now so please leave a message."
I tuck my legs under my thighs and sit upright. "Can you at least pick up mum's calls if you can't even pick mine? I know that you're not a child but sometimes she's worried sick about you."
I swallow and glare at my blanket like it's his face I'm looking at. My voice is filled with too much emotion so I clear my throat before I speak again. "The least you can do after squandering her money is to be fucking humane."
I hang up after that and lower my phone to the bed. I'm in one of those moods where I have a ridiculous writer's block and wear my dad's old sweatshirt to bed, just to try and remember what he smelled like before he left. I'm in one of those moods where I really desire to talk to someone about literally anything and at a point in my life, after dad left, that used to be my older brother. Before we became strangers to each other.
And even after that, even when he wouldn't pick up my calls since he left for college two years ago, I would say everything I wanted to say in his voicemail. Hoping that he'd get back to me or even send me a text. But nothing happened.
Today, when I called him, it wasn't to rant or vent. It was because I'd noticed the larger eye bags mum carried about and the constant zoning out when we were having conversation while washing the dishes and she's only ever like that when she's worrying about either of her children.
Hana is the second person I can rant to but she hasn't called me or sent me a text since her mum told me I was a distraction. I haven't called her too or texted but it has been purposeful, with the impression that she'd notice and call me herself since I do the calling most of the time. But she doesn't. And I don't want to be selfish enough to think she's forgotten she has a friend almost five thousand miles away who is constantly eager to talk to her. Instead, I give her the benefit of doubt and make up excuses for her. She's busy, she's studying and she has to be the best. I shouldn't be a stumbling block to her goals.
I grab my journal again and take up a pen. The blank page stares back at me and my pen tightens in my grip. I can't think of anything. I flip it shut and stare at the wall in front of my desk that is filled with different sheets of my writing. When I write and don't show grandma, I plaster them on the wall and look at them whenever I'm less busy. There are papers upon papers, some plastered over the other and some newer than the rest. A paper succumbs to gravity from its loose hold on the wall and gently glides to the table.
I turn to my phone and scroll through social media. It doesn't interest me. I look around and search for King but he's downstairs with my grandmother in her room. I check my blood glucose level since I have nothing to do. It's 1 a.m and I can't sleep. I'm alone. And today, I'm not happy that I'm alone.
I lay on the bed and try to close my eyes, but it doesn't invite sleep. The silence is loud in my room and my mind immediately becomes swarmed with an army of different thoughts. I toss and turn on the bed to block them away but they attack me with full force. I grab my phone and hesitate to dial the number I want to dial.
I can't call Hana and I can't call my brother. I can't call Amanda or Cass because we aren't as close as that. I can't call Eloise or Otis because they're my co-workers. It's not like I'm so close to Flynn either but no matter how hard I try to deny it, he's the closest thing to a friend I have right now.
I give in to the second thoughts and place my phone back on the bed but that's a mistake because once I close my eyes, I start to count. And when I count, I remember a park and a throng of unfamiliar people around me and a sense of panic. I grab my phone again before I start to cry and dial Flynn's number.
Heat rolls over my skin like silk when it rings and he doesn't pick up immediately. It's suddenly too hot in here. I climb off the bed and open the windows and curse under my breath when the call ends. He doesn't pick up. Maybe he's asleep. It is midnight after all.
I walk around the room for some seconds and flinch when the piercing ringtone of my phone blares into the night. Hurrying over, I climb into bed and hesitate before sliding my finger over the answer button.
"Hello? Pryce?" His voice is deeper than usual, raspy and runs down to my toes. I think I must have woken him up. I feel selfish already.
I fiddle with the lint that sticks out of my bedsheets. "Did I wake you up?"
"Not really. I just dozed off in my car."
"You're out?"
"I am."
"Where? A party?"
"No."
"A strip club?"
He laughs, low and hot. "You called me at one in the morning to interrogate me?"
"Right," I clear my throat. "Uh, I just wanted to know if you'd gone through the email like I told you to." Crap, that's the lamest thing I've ever said to him.
He doesn't respond for a minute and then his voice comes in slowly. "You called me at midnight to find out if I'd gone through your email?"
"Yes?" I say but it sounds like I'm asking.
"Would you hang up if I said yes?"
"Probably."
"No, I haven't."
I swallow. "Why not?"
"Because I want to keep talking to you."
I sit up on the bed and bring my knees up to my chest. God, it's too hot in here. My cheeks are hot, my neck is hot, the room is hot. I briefly drop my phone and force the sweatshirt out of my body before placing the phone back to my ear. I'm still hot.
"Why aren't you at home like every other responsible kid?"
"I thought you already knew how irresponsible I am."
"You've tried to kill me twice in your car," I look up at the glow in the dark stars and the fairy lights around my room. "That's enough proof."
"Are you okay?"
"Define okay."
"Okay's okay."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not okay and that's too many okays."
The corners of my mouth turn up against my will. "Can you keep up?"
He sounds like he's smiling. "Depends."
I don't say anything further and then he speaks up instead.
"I'm at the lake. You know, the one the town was named after? That lake."
I wrap my other arm around my knees and place my chin on it. I'm all kinds of curious. "Why?"
"This is going to sound stupid," he pauses and then he continues. "But I don't know why. To feel something, I guess but I feel worse than I did before I came."
I'm quiet for a minute because he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it anymore so I glance at my bedside clock and a thought pops in my mind.
"How many black Tees do you have?"
"I don't know. A ton? Why'd you ask?"
"It's your uniform and supposedly your favorite color. It's only normal that I'm curious."
He sighs. "It used to be my favorite color."
"What's your favorite color now?"
"Red."
I arch a brow. "Red?"
"Red."
"Huh," I'm genuinely surprised. "That's unexpected. I thought you only communicate in dark colors."
"I only started liking red very recently."
"How recently?"
"Since Halloween."
"Change of taste, I assume?"
"Probably," his tone changes. "What's yours?"
"It changes seasonally. For now, it's Burnt Orange."
"Last time, it was what?"
"Blood Orange."
"God," he laughs. "In other words, your favorite color is Orange."
I roll my lips together before responding. "It's not. It really changes. Besides, Orange has different shades."
"Fine. Tell me something else and for the love of God, don't teach me Biology. You woke me up, you have to keep me entertained."
"I thought you said I didn't."
"It's not unusual for a caveman to lie."
I'm immediately transported to two days ago when he had his arms around my waist and told me this same thing. I shake the image away and focus on something else. Something new and somewhat exciting.
"Daniel asked me out to coffee tomorrow." There. I said it.
He waits a beat before responding. "Are you excited?"
I stretch my legs and slide under the covers, finally feeling a little fatigued. "Why wouldn't I be? Plus, I finally get to show someone my work."
"I've seen your work."
"You snooped around."
"He shouldn't kiss you on the first date." He says abruptly.
I can't help it. My cheeks are red. "It's not a date."
"Sure, it's not. Are you going study the Bible with him?"
"Iâno. He actually asked me to bring some of my work with me."
He sounds unconvinced. "Still a date, Pryce."
I frown. "Why the hell do you sound pissed?"
"I'm not pissed. I just think it's a bit too early for a date. He barely even remembers your name."
"He's not good with names and it's not a date, dad." I reiterate and yawn. "And even if it is, that's a good thing. He's cute."
He sighs and then I hear the engine of his car roar to life. "You should go to bed now."
"I'm already on my bed."
"You should get some sleep then, smartass."
I pause and then I ask, "Are you headed back home?"
"I am."
I close my eyes. "Goodnight Tris."
"I told youâ"
He sounds pained but I hang up before he can say anything else and then I bring the covers up to my head and turn off the lamp.