Page 24 of This I Promise You
“Okay,” I assure him. “Bye, best friend.”
I end the call, and look at the girl who told me to call him. She’s so nice.
“He can’t. He’s with his boyfriend. Yeah. He’s got a boyfriend,” I tell her. “I want a boyfriend. I really want a boyfriend. There’s this guy—”
“That’s wonderful, but maybe you should call that girl he was talking about,” she says.
“Were you listening to my call?” I make a big O with my lips. “So rude.”
“You really need to call your friend,” she urges.
“Ugh!” I grunt and find the contact for Huxley after stumbling through the alphabet. It rings and rings and rings. “Come on. Answer or this girl isn’t going to leave me alone.”
The ringing stops and a voice comes on the other end. She sounds hoarse, but I yell into the phone anyway.
“Hey, Huxley. It’s me again!”
Paul
I Wish You Were Sober
My eyes snap open at the sound of my phone buzzing on my nightstand. Who in the actual fuck would be calling me this late at night? I check the clock. It’s two a.m.!
I dig my fists into my eyes to wake myself up.
I answer and immediately my ears are assaulted with the bass of a song I can’t make out. Now I’m pissed. “Who the fuck is this?”
“It’s me!”
Ummmm. Huxley? “Who’s me?”
“Me. Like, me. Duh,” they practically sing. “It’sme.”
Is this a prank call? No. Their voice sounds familiar even though they’re very clearly shit-faced. And they know Huxley. It better not be who I think it is. “Right. Who the fuck isme?!”
“E.A.S.T.O.N. Duh.”
Shit. It is. And did he actually just spell his name? I try not to laugh. “Easton.”
“Ding, ding, ding!”
“How the hell did you get my number and…are you drunk? Is Huxley with you?” I run my hands down my face in frustration.
“Yooooou’reHuxley! Oh hey, Huxley?” There’s a pause and I think he’s talking to someone else. His voice comes back through my phone. “Can you give me a ride home? You left and I can’t find you and I might be alittletipsy.”
Shit. I knew it. “Where are you?”
“Frat party. They’re the WORST! Sending my location nooooow.”
What the flying fuck is going on? My phone pings as I get an iMessage saying he shared his location. I’m honestly impressed since he sounds completely shit-faced. Wait… How’d he get my number? What is going on?!
“Don’t you dare move. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay. See ya. Bye. Love you. Think I’ll have another drink.” But the last part sounds like he’s talking to someone else again. Is he with someone else?
And he hangs up. Shit. Love you?Love you?!Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit. He’s drunk. I pull on a pair of running shorts and my oversizedLAKERSshirt, tennis shoes, grab my keys and my wallet, and drag myself to the door.
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