Of Mochas and Macchiatos

Part 5

What are you supposed to do when a boy gives you his number?

It's a shame I never had any close friends from back home who were boys. It's situations like these that make you rethink your childhood choices. I don't regret my close friendship with Kiki exactly... it's just- all those years, all that time, poured into our friendship- into one friendship- only for it to end so abruptly. With the eternal promise that we would  n e v e r ever be friends again. It seems such a waste.

Noah's differently obviously. I me, firstly he's non-binary but currently prefers he pronounces. And anyway, it's usually he who turns to me for advice when he receives a date's number (I don't exactly get asked out very often). And he's not exactly here now anyways. In his last email to me, he'd declared that he wanted to stay in Brussels forever. And then he'd quickly cut his message short with the announcement that he was going to be late to the opera. I contemplate sending Noah a reply to his email- a shouty all capitals message screaming that RAFE ARCHER GAVE ME HIS NUMBER !!! but that sounds a little bit dramatic- even by Noah's standards. Anyway, it's probably, like, two in the morning where ever Noah is.

It's quite a dilemma. Finally I decide to do it. Ring Rafe. I press call.

The phone rings. And rings. And rings.

No answer. Seriously, it's 11:30am on a Saturday morning (yes, I did wait a few days to pluck up the courage to do this).

Why won't he answer?

Eventually, the automated voice comes on signalling that Rafe is most definitely not there. In the back of my mind, I vaguely ponder the idea of a whole roomful of women, each with the same phlegmatic, detached voice, all in different languages and dialects, parroting a set phrase into a microphone to be sent out of the mobile phones of people all over the world. Somehow, this thought unnerves me and I shiver, cutting off that android tone.

I debate sending a voice message for a few seconds. But people don't send voice messages any more, do they? Not unless they're utterly ancient. Finally, I decide to send a text. A text is normal and appropriate and not weird, right? Ugh, I am so awkward.

»Hey Rafe, it's Eva. I've compiled a list of books regarding Avery that we should check out. None of them are at the bookshop and I thought maybe we should check out the libraries on campus before I order them in? Let me know what you think.

What kind of person says "regarding"? Or "compiled", for that matter? It's too late to change anyway. There's the familiar chime from my phone, signalling that my message has been sent and I absently stare at the screen as it goes dark and it switches off with a click.

After a few minutes, my phone chirps again. Really? Is Rafe one of those guys who'll intentionally ignore a call and yet happily text for hours?

« Hey Evangeline, you free today, at two??

» It's Evie!
»Yes. Shall we meet at the Neptune Fountain?

« Whatever you say Angel, see you then

Nice chat, Rafe. He didn't even acknowledge my question...? Are we going to go to the library or not? My finger hesitates over my screen but I don't know what to say and I don't want to come off as ~clingy or whatever.

I sigh and lean back against the wall. Legs outstretched before me as I stare into space. My phone chimes once again as a reminder for some game pops up on the screen and I swipe the notification away, barely glancing at it. I toss my phone along the floor, watching as it slides against the hardwood planks until it hits the far wall with a soft thunk. Dust motes stir through the air around it and I shut my eyes.