Take Me Home | ✔

Chapter Two

 • dedicated to zaazuh for being an amazing supporter of this book !

and to Patrick Scott Ritter: if you're reading this, stop right now. Thank you. 

[ two ] - wake-up calls        

              ↠  friday - precisely a week before graduation    

           I woke up to a rapid beeping inside my left ear. 

          Scowling, I opened my eyes groggily and blinked at the ceiling. The phone was ringing, quite loudly. Groaning, I saw the green digital numbers blare brightly on the clock: it was five a.m. 

           The phone was still ringing, so with a clammy hand, I picked it up.  

          "Hello?" I replied gruffly. 

           No one answered.  

           "Hello?" I tried again.

          "Baby, I'm sorry." 

          I should've known it would be Austin calling at this ungodly time. I just didn't think he would actually do it; not after what he did to me last night. 

          "Austin, it's too early for this sh--" 

          "No, baby, hear me out, please." 

          Before I could sense what I was about to do, I hung up, slamming down the phone into the reciever. I was fresh out of tears, and a new bout of bags were appearing on my face for how much I had pitifully cried over him last night. 

    No more, I thought. 

       Suddenly, two seconds later, the phone rang again. It rang again and again, and I gave in to the temptation. I picked it up without saying anything. 

     "Baby?" Austin asked. I steeled myself; his sleepy voice seemed so familiar, so inviting. It was tempting. "Can I at least explain?" 

       "There's nothing to explain. You were tongue-wrestling with Patricia last night in the pool, in front of everybody. You were shoving your tongue into her throat."  

       "I know, but Vienna... I just... I don't feel the same way anymore." 

       "And that's my fault?" I scoffed, before promptly hanging up. 

      Austin Roberts kept calling, and calling, for a total of sixteen times. There was no mute button on the phone; I'd already checked. His persistence was admirable, but my heart couldn't be fixed together that easily. And what was worse? I kept convicing myself that Austin wasn't the type to do that. I kept seeing the thirteen year old Austin instead of the one standing before me. The one who cheated on me. 

       For the nineteenth time the phone rang, I was beyond done. The incessant beeping had been imprinted in my ears that it echoed annoyingly, driving me insane. Why didn't he get the hint? 

       Sitting up, I picked up the entire phone receiver, and threw it on the ground with a loud clang. The phone flew away from the receiver, lying haphazardly on the carpet. But thankfully, the beeping noises stopped. 

          I sighed, my eyes closing with relief. Maybe now I can finally get some sleep. 

       And that was exactly what I got. If I only I knew then I would regret ever smashing the poor phone receiver onto the ground, I probably wouldn't be here in this situation.