I pulled out my phone. No notifications from his
contact, which was pinned to the top of my
chat list. If I didn’t reach out, he wouldn’t either.
By 9:30, I’d finished my show and was the only
one left in the dorm. Sarah had gotten some
foundation on the sleeve of my plum dress. I
10:24
<
knelt down, carefully trying to dab it off. No luck. What was the point anyway? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my phone rang. An unknown number, but I recognized it
instantly. I didn’t save his number, telling myself I didn’t care that much. But I knew it by heart.
“Hello?” I picked at a loose thread on the hanger, trying to distract myself. He chuckled, like he could hear the forced casualness in my
voice. “Wanna go out?” he asked, his voice
playful, teasing, the way it always was. So he
did remember.
“It’s 9:30,” I said.
“So?”
“Is it always last minute with me? Ethan, that’s
kind of rude.” I tried to joke. “Did someone else bail on you?” I kept my tone light, but I couldn’t help but wait for his reaction. But there was nothing. Silence. I thought the call had dropped,
<
and I was about to switch to data when I
realized he’d hung up.
Back in our chat, beneath my long string of
green text bubbles, were his two short replies:
Ethan: “…”
Ethan: “Whatever. Not forcing you.”
