I stare at the phone in my hand, “Just call him already,” Anna says from her place on my bed. “I can’t believe you haven’t called him yet, it’s been five days. He’s not going to wait forever, you know?”
“Exactly my point.” I slip the top off my empty shampoo bottle that I’m now using as a secret phone safe and put the phone back in its hidey spot. I screw on the lid and put it back in my bathroom cabinet.
“And what stupid point would that be?” she scoffs.
“He’s a player, Anna, what’s the point of starting something up with a heartbreaker who we both know isn’t going to wait for me to be allowed to date.”
“You don’t know he’s a player.”
“What kind of guy kisses a girl in the bathroom of a house tour and then sneaks her in a burner phone?”
“The hot kind.”
“I already know how this will go.”
She rolls her eyes. “And how is that?”
“I’ll fall for him and he will be out partying with every girl in town while I stay at home, for which he will have the perfect excuse because I’m not allowed out. And to be honest, I wouldn’t even blame him. Who wants to see a girl that you can’t even see?”
“Seriously, your brothers need to lighten up. You’re seventeen for fuck’s sake.”
“I know.” I flop onto the bed beside her and we both stare up at the grand ornate ceiling, lost in our own thoughts. Anna and I’ve been best friends since the first grade, she knows me better than anyone. Her parents knew my parents from when they were young so there have never been any issues with me going to her place, I stay there often and she stays at mine. She’s an only child and with my brothers being so much older, I may as well be. We have bedrooms at each other’s places.
She’s allowed to do a lot more than I am and yet, never once, has she made me feel left out.
“You should call him.” She sighs.
“Maybe.”
“I mean, if even just to return his phone. It’s probably worth a lot of money.”
“But if he wanted to talk to me, why hasn’t he called or text me?”
“Because for all he knows, the phone may have been found by Enrico or something. He has no idea what’s going on over here.”
“True. Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that.” We fall silent for a while.
“Are you going to call him?”
“I’ll text him.”
She sits up in excitement. “Do it now.”
Nerves hammer in my chest. “No, later.”
“No, now.”
“Tomorrow night, that way I know he’ll be home.”
“How do you know he’ll be home?”
“Well, it’s Monday night and nobody does much on a Monday night, do they?”
“True.” Anna takes my hand in hers. “What are you going to say?”
Fear overwhelms me, I get the feeling that a lot of girls would message him every day. “God knows.”
*
It’s late on Monday night, I’m home alone, my mother has gone to my grandmother’s with Lorenzo, I want to do it, but I don’t want to do it. Unfortunately, I know that there is no way around this, I close my eyes and hit send.
Hi
A reply bounces straight back.
Can I call you?
My eyes widen. Oh fuck…umm. Shit, shit, shit. I think for a moment.
Nobody is home, I guess this is the perfect time. I type.
Okay
The phone instantly vibrates, and I jump out of bed and begin to pace, oh my God.
What do I do?
Answer it, you idiot. I go to answer it and fumble and drop the phone.
Ahhhh…
“Hello,” I answer, my voice sounds high pitched and nervous, I scrunch my eyes shut.
Act cool.
“Hi.” His voice is deep and raspy and it instantly makes my stomach flutter, how is he so hot? “Took your time,” he says.
Huh?
I open my mouth to say something.
“What the hell, Francesca, I’ve been waiting for seven fucking days for you to call. Talk about making me sweat.”
I smile, surprised by his lecture. “I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
Thinking about you.
“Schoolwork,” I lie. I screw up my face, why did I say that? Now I sound boring.
“Not a good enough excuse.”
I feel my cheeks heat as I blush, just the sound of his voice sends me giddy. “What have you been doing?” I ask.
“Thinking about you.”
What?
I begin to pace back and forth in my bedroom. “What about me?”
“The way you kiss.”
I smile goofily at my reflection in my mirror. Is this really happening?
“What about it?” I try to act casual. “I’m sure you’ve kissed a million girls.”
“None like you.”
Silence hangs on the line between us as I try to think of something to say.
“Have you thought about me?” he asks.
“No.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Maybe,” I snap way too fast.
“Good.”
“Why is that good?” I whisper.
“Because it’s only fair, I think about you all day and I dream about you all night.” My eyes widen. “What do you dream about?” I whisper.
“Kissing you.”
I smile goofily.
“Among other things,” he adds.
“What other things?”
“I don’t think you could handle my thoughts at this stage.”
I bite my bottom lip as nerves dance. “What is this stage?” I ask.
“The getting-to-know-each-other stage.”
I smile shyly and I don’t know what else to say without sounding geeky. “I should get going, it’s late.”
“So soon?”
The line falls silent.
“Can I call you tomorrow night?” he asks.
“Umm.” I shrug, surely that wouldn’t hurt. It is just talking. “If you want.”
“Text me when you get into bed and I’ll call you to say good night.”
“Okay.”
We fall quiet again.
“Good night, sweet Cheska,” he whispers.
I smile an over-the-top smile, he called me by my childhood nickname, everything with him just feels so natural. “Good night, Giuliano.”
“You can dream about me tonight if you want.”
I giggle and he laughs too.
“I’ll think about it.” I smile.
I hang up the phone and twirl in excitement and flop down onto my bed. No need to think about it, I already know I will.
*
The last six weeks have been a whirlwind of flutters and blushing and goose bumps in the dark.
Is it really possible to fall in love with someone over the phone?
I would have thought not, but now…. Maybe.
Giuliano and I text all day and whisper to each other for most of the night, every day now for six weeks.
He’s never not called me, not even on weekends when he’s out. And while he’s out living his best life, he’s explaining things to me as he does them.
A running commentary of his life.
He’s unlike anyone I have ever known, funny, sweet and intelligent and open. So unlike the men in my family.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I think that perhaps it’s because his mother is English, he’s been brought up very differently to me. He doesn’t live the stereotypical Italian lifestyle.