That night, Cash called me.
I was lying on my bed, doing some math revision, when my phone sprang to life beside me. I flinched as that familiar, insistent ringing filled my room.
Flinched as I read the name on my screen.
Cash.
Let it go to voicemail, I told myself. Let it go to voicemail.
"Alyx?" A drunken murmur emanated from my phone as my voicemail played. "Alyx, are you there?"
Oh my god.
Cash was leaving me a message. Drunk.
"Just pick up." His voice was pleading. "I'm begging you, just pick up."
And god, did I want to. My fingers itched to hit that button. To answer that call. But I remained frozen, gaping down at my screen.
"I read your book," Cash continued. His words were so slurred I could hardly comprehend them, each syllable blending together. "I read the whole thing."
My heart picked up. I stared and stared at that phone, weighing my options, caught by indecision.
"Please, pick up-"
His voice cut off suddenly with a beep, leaving me to the silence of my bedroom.
A silence that, in the wake of that message, suddenly seemed hollow and cold.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
YOU ARE READING
You, Me, and All The Spaces In-between
Teen FictionAlyx Miller is a smart, quiet high school student with a raging attraction to Cash Smith: the wildly popular quarter back with model boy hair. When his English class anonymously swap their favourite books with each other for an assignment, Alyx disc...
