On That Day We | sakook

chapter 32.

Sana's POV

　
　
I was staring at one of the three contact names on my phone. My finger hovered over the screen, ready to press the dial button, but I kept pulling it back.

Momo got me this new phone even though I said I didn't need it. I would have just borrowed hers, but she wouldn't let me. She said I needed my own in case of emergencies.

Now I was in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. My stomach felt weird as I stared at Jungkook's contact number.

Should I call him or not?

My finger kept hovering over the screen, my eyes impatiently staring at it. Minutes bled into what felt like an hour as I debated the call. "Should I?" the question tumbled out in a whisper, barely audible even to myself.

Suddenly, a tremor ran through my hand, the nervous energy coursing through me as my index finger landed right on the dreaded green dial button. 

My eyes widened as the screen flared to life, displaying the dialing interface. Below his name, a digital pulse began throbbing ― "Calling..."

After just a few seconds, he answered. Panic clawed at my throat. I blinked rapidly as I stared at the screen and my hand trembled, nearly dropping the phone. Finally, I snapped out of it and put the phone to my ear.

His voice was deep and almost unrecognizable through the phone. He repeated "hello" a couple of times before I managed to speak, "H-hello..." A strangled sound escaped my lips, barely a whisper.

Shame burned in my cheeks as I softly mumbled, "I-it's Sana."

"Oh, Sana?"

"Yes, it's me..." I trailed off, fidgeting with the fabric of my pants. "I..."

Why couldn't I speak straight? I closed my eyes and held my breath, then continued, "Can we talk? In person..."

There was silence on the other end. 

My throat suddenly felt like sandpaper, and I swallowed for what felt like the hundredth time. My anxiety rising up with each passing millisecond.

Finally, he spoke. "Actually," he started slowly, "I am planning to talk to you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "So... when do you want to meet?"

"Uh, whenever you're free," I stammered back, already fiddling with my nails. "I'm not really that busy, you know..." My voice trailed off, picturing his packed schedule.

"Okay," he said, "how about tomorrow at 10 in the morning?"

"Okay," I agreed, then hesitated. "Uhh, where..."

He cut me off, surprising me again. "I'll pick you up."

Surprise shot through me. I instinctively stood up from the bed, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see me. "No, no, I'll just come to you," I blurted out, waving my hands in the air as if he could see the frantic gesture.

"Sana, it's okay," he said gently, his voice kind and polite. Something about the softness of his tone sent a weird feeling through me, a fluttery twist in my stomach that made me feel nervous.

I stammered out a reply, "O-okay, thank you." My voice came out small, barely above a whisper again.

He ended the call after politely explaining that he was currently working and had to go.
Once the call ended, I realized my palms were cold and sweaty. I placed the phone on the bedside table, wiped my hands on my pants, and let out a heavy sigh of relief.