Restless

Chapter 1

She was the first person I called when I returned home after my first official encounter with Reagan. We spoke for over an hour as I recalled Reagan's blushing cheeks, husky voice soft skin and incredible smile. I could tell Karma was smiling even through the phone because of the way she was giggling. She was happy for me. Happy I met someone. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she is pleased, but I'm worried it is fake. Karma is so good at faking thing; even she convinces herself they are true. Is she glad I found someone I might like? Or is she just relieved that I've finally moved on?

Reagan flooded my mind for the remainder of the night. I really struggled to sleep. Eventually I started to drift into a soft sleep, when I was harshly awoken by the faint buzzing of my mobile, which I must have kicked to the floor. Eyes heavy with sleep, I peered over to see who dared to disrupt me from my much desired sleep.

Reagan.

Sleepily, I reached over and accepted the call. I lifted the phone to my ear and was startled by her overly enthusiastic greeting. Shrimp girl. I guess that is the name I am stuck with for the time being. As much as I was smitten to hear her sultry voice, I couldn't help but be the slightest bit annoyed at her youthful ambling about tonight's encounter at an underground neon themed dance party. After five minutes of listening to her, I got used to the melodic tones in her sexy voice and it became comforting. I dreaded the moment when she stopped speaking,

'You do realise the time?' I questioned, as soon as I managed to get a word in edgeways.

'Yeah, sorry' she giggled, 'did I wake you?'

'Not really, I couldn't stop thinking about something' that sounded way less obvious in my head. Was it too soon to hint that I felt a connection?

'I'll be over in ten.'

Before I could stop her, the call was already hung up. For a minute, I just lay aimlessly, staring into the blank, nothingness of my ceiling.

The longest ten minutes of my life. Despite the fact we only officially met that night, I hoped that this feeling of butterflies was mutual and that I wasn't going to end up on my face in the mud again. As I lay there, I remember the look of relief when I took up the offer of keeping her company on the DJ platform. I recall her cute laugh when she pretended she couldn't hear me, and despite my utter humiliation, that was the most comfortable I had felt in a long time. She offered me the headphones, and slid a hand around my back to draw me closer to the setup. Whispering in my ear, she guided my hands to the right places, showing me effortlessly how to make music. I wasn't focusing on the music though. I remember how close her body was to mine, and how she innocently rubbed against me as her body responded to the music. She smelt soft and sophisticated, like roses and musk. Mmmm. Remembering her scent, I got to my feet and pulled an old tee over my lace bra, followed by a pair of grey, cotton shorts. Somehow, greeting Reagan in my underwear doesn't seem appropriate. Not yet anyway.