Page 24 of Collide

The clock says 3:14 a.m. My room is blue with streetlight. I lie there, listening to the sound of my own breathing, until my phone buzzes softly on the nightstand. A message. For a second, my brain refuses to believe it.

CAL: Hey. It’s Cal. From the rink.

I stare at the screen. My pulse jumps.

Then another message appears.

CAL: Sorry if this is weird. Just wanted to say your photos were incredible. You’ve got a good eye.

I type, then erase. Type again. My fingers shake.

Thanks. You played well.

Too short. Delete.

Thanks. You were fun to photograph.

Too flirty. Delete.

ROSE: Thanks. That means a lot.

Simple. Safe.

I hit send before I can overthink it. The typing bubble flashes, then disappears. Flashes again.

CAL: Didn’t think you’d answer.

ROSE: Why wouldn’t I?

CAL: Dunno. You seemed… out of my league.

I laugh gently into the dark.

ROSE: I think that’s the first time anyone’s said that to a photographer covered in coffee stains.

There’s a pause.

CAL: You underestimate yourself.

I stare at the words until they blur.

He sends one more.

CAL: Anyway. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just couldn’t sleep.

My fingers hover. I could leave it there. I should leave it there. Instead, I type.

ROSE: Yeah. Me neither.

Then nothing. Just silence and the faint sound of rain starting against the window. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like silence. It feels like a beginning.

Morning comes pale and slow. My phone’s still beside me, screen dark, no new messages. I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, and try to decide if I imagined the whole thing. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I want it to be. But as I scroll through the photos one last time before sending them to theHerald, my eyes find his face again; focused, unguarded, and human, and something in me shifts.

Maybe it’s not about the accident anymore. Maybe it’s about what comes after. And maybe I’m ready to find out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CALLUM