My face was pressed deep into my pillow, and my hands that had been tucked under it were clutching a vibrating phone. I blinked once, then twice into the darkness, inhaled deeply. My body was in the same position it had fallen asleep in, and I felt warm. I was still in the midst of realizing I was awake when I heard crickets outside my open window singing to the moon, eclipsing the faint, dying life of my dreams.
Oh, a phone. My phone.
At that time of night, my brain couldn’t reason that it was an indecent hour, and that I wasn’t obligated to answer. So I did.
I groaned when the light from the screen hit my eyes. Charlie.
I brought the phone to my ear.
“Kat, you awake?”
“Sorry it’s so late.”
“I’m sorry, too.” I murmured.
There was patch of silence. Then a quiet, “Kat?”
“I . . . need to see you.”
“Yeah, I mean, could you?”
I rolled onto my back and gathered my thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Nothing, it’s just this girl.”
“I think I love her.”
“. . .”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you underneath the tree.”
“Alright, see you in a bit.”
And I turned my head back into my pillow, this time to suffocate the tears.