Long-Distance Calls

4

• Thanks to the lovely flusteredcheeks for the alternative cover! •

The next morning my eyes opened due to a shouting voice. It was only when I effectively woke up, when I allowed the power of reason to take over the subconscious that still possessed me in spite of my opened eyes, that I realized that the voice was my mother's and she was calling my name.

"What is it?!" I shouted. My loud voice paralyzed my own brain.

"It's one o'clock!" she shouted back as I felt the emptiness of my stomach, "You planning to get up today!?"

I rubbed my eye with my wrist. "Jesus, it's freaking summer! Who cares what time it is!"

But I actually kind of did. I mean, I hated putting the alarm clock, because I would always wake up feeling bad when that monstrosity rang, (not to mention that I would feel like the main character in the first chapter of a Wattpad fanfiction), so I would tell myself I'll wake up reasonably soon alright, but I almost never did.

And it's not like I enjoyed staying in bed the whole morning. During summer, when I managed to get up at, like, ten or eleven, I would read a book. And morning was always the best time for my reading, I don't know why, but every morning I would read some hundred pages just like that. I guess morning was the best moment for my head.

How unfortunate though, that this theory only applied to summer and waking up after ten, and not to school days and waking up at seven. Sorry about your damn luck, Peter.

So, anyway, every time I woke up after twelve, I would hate myself. Because I would feel tired, morning-less, hated by my mother and, beside all that, I would miss my breakfast.

And, indeed, that morning I had no breakfast, because my mom was already cooking for lunch.

I turned on the laptop and checked Facebook real quick. There was one notification and one message.

The first one I clicked on was the notification. "Frank Spears accepted your friend request".

Well, that was nice, but what about the Tiger girl? She was the sender of the message:

"Oh, hey you! Send me the request on my other profile. It's called 'Evelyn Trips', thanks"

At first, I didn't understand why she would tell me such thing, but then I searched that name and found her other profile. There was no photo of her in this one, only wrestling related pictures and some Harry Potter.

Well, alright, I thought, She probably doesn't trust me... 'cause she doesn't know me. So she's asking me to send her a friend request on the secondary profile.

At the time, I thought that was kind of a bitch move, but I realize that's actually smart (they don't warn us against cyber-stalking for nothing), so I sent her another friend request.

That day, after lunch, I decided to hang out with my maternal cousin Tyler.

He lived in New York, he went to NYU, and sometimes he would come back to Queens to spend time with his parents.

We met on the 69th, near Forest Hills' Jewish Center. He looked even more ripped than usual.

To me, ever since I was a child, he had always been the alpha male. The one I looked up to. My role model. His big, strong muscles, that he would let me touch from time to time, were as hard as stone, his jet black hair matched perfectly with his handsome five o'clock shadow and made his forest green eyes really stand out.