Unmasked
Page 14
I stay there, curled against him, until my arm begins to go numb from Ash’s weight. I slip out from underneath him and reach down to scoop my cellphone from the ground, wondering how long we’ve been sleeping here. Then I notice the screen: six missed calls, all from my mom. I’ve had the phone set to silent; I never heard a thing.
My heart skips. It’s not like her to call so late, or so many times. I quickly open the text she’s sent.
Your grandmother had a stroke. CALL ME.
Panic flares. Oh God!
I quickly grab my purse and pull my shoes back on. For a moment, I think about waking Ash and explaining everything, but something about the way he’s laying there, so content, makes me pause. His expression is open, relaxed. A smile plays on the edge of his lips, and I wonder if he’s dreaming of me.
I don’t want to ruin this moment for him just yet. He deserves another few minutes of peace. Instead, I find a paper napkin in my purse and scribble my phone number. I tuck the paper in his shirt pocket, and lean over to gently kiss his lips.
Just for tonight, I promised him. We would forget the real world, and just see what happens.
But tonight is over, and the real world is waiting for me, full of anxious news.
“Call me. Please,” I whisper softly, praying this isn’t the end.
Then I walk away.
My heart skips. It’s not like her to call so late, or so many times. I quickly open the text she’s sent.
Your grandmother had a stroke. CALL ME.
Panic flares. Oh God!
I quickly grab my purse and pull my shoes back on. For a moment, I think about waking Ash and explaining everything, but something about the way he’s laying there, so content, makes me pause. His expression is open, relaxed. A smile plays on the edge of his lips, and I wonder if he’s dreaming of me.
I don’t want to ruin this moment for him just yet. He deserves another few minutes of peace. Instead, I find a paper napkin in my purse and scribble my phone number. I tuck the paper in his shirt pocket, and lean over to gently kiss his lips.
Just for tonight, I promised him. We would forget the real world, and just see what happens.
But tonight is over, and the real world is waiting for me, full of anxious news.
“Call me. Please,” I whisper softly, praying this isn’t the end.
Then I walk away.
