Let Me Adore You (N.H.)

27

My phone rang the day after Christmas. It barely rang and when it did, it was my mother calling to check up on me. But the moment the display lit up, she was sitting downstairs in front of the TV with my father. I had been painting and listening to some music, my thoughts drifting away the whole day. Every day got longer and longer, every conversation close to eternity. When was this week going to be over?

Apparently now.

"Yes?" I slowly spoke, unsure about who will be at the end of the line, even though I already knew. Standing up, I quietly closed the door of my old room, shutting the outside out. It already invaded my life at university, it shouldn't intervene with my most private sphere too.

"Hello." His serious voice reminded me of a home I thought I had here, the way he called my name let me experience homesickness.

"Hey. Is...everything okay?" I had to make a pause, thinking about every single word. He shortly cleared his throat which sounded like a little laugh. Maybe he thought I was worried.

"Why so scared? I Only called to discuss an important thing with you. Are you alone?"

"Yes, yes I'm in my bedroom painting." I nodded, being aware he couldn't see it.

"Perfect. I wasn't sure if someone else was listening." He said more softly now, slower. I was surprised at this way of thinking, I could've been sitting next to my parents and him calling me pet names wouldn't have raised suspicion but hell itself.

"That's very attentive of you, I have to admit."

"I know angel. How was your Christmas?" Normally, I would've said "lovely", not mentioning I missed him. However he asked to see if I did, so that he could assure himself I longed for him and only him.

"Mostly good but I can't wait to come back. Killing time is exhausting me." My fingers moved absentmindedly over the cover of a book he lend me some weeks ago that was next to me on the desk.

"Hmm I couldn't agree more. Constantly reading bad work other students did drains me more than I anticipated." I imagined him sitting in his leather chair, opposite of the sofa I preferred to sit on, a beer in his hand and the phone in his other. The picture in my mind was so clear, I could swear I smelled the liquid and his scent.

"You aren't referring to my work, are you? Because then I would like to revise my last statement."

"Ah angel." He draw it out, a smile evident in his sentence.

"You know what I think about your writing. Don't make yourself look bad." I pressed the phone closer to my ear, grabbing a brush and dipping it in the glass of dirty water, then into the blue paint.

"I know I know, I just wanted to hear it again."

"You do? Well, in that case I will say nothing more."

"Unfair but okay Mister." I said annoyed.

"Why did you call me?" I changed the topic, concentrated on a few details in my painting.

"I want to sort things out before you come back." My blood turned into ice, colder than the wind outside.

"Sort things out how?" He was going to cancel next week, I was sure. He realised I was just some needy, attention-seeking girl, with nothing to offer. That I was only a burden for him.

Right?

And I actually didn't feel bad. He was right after all, like everyone else. My mother herself had told me two days ago, that I should finally find someone to "endure" me. Or else I was going to die lonely, like my great aunts did.