One in a Million

Aalia, my dear. <3

I miss you so much more! Titanic was on last night and I thought of you and Dyl. This would be way more fun with you two losers here. I don’t know how I got stuck with such a dysfunctional family. I mean, honestly. My dad tried to give me the sex talk this morning at breakfast. In. Front. Of. Everyone. First of all, it was completely unnecessary and the most embarrassing experience of my life. Second, I got really red. Like, bright tomato Bella Swan kind of red. I’m not like you – my skin is so effing pale, not even the Cali sun will tan it. You are so lucky you’re just naturally gorgeous, you hoe. I’m so jealous and deep down, so is Dylan. But anyway, third of all…I’m fucking nineteen! The sex talk is beyond my time. Jesus.

Okay, on to more important things. LA is beautiful. The guys are beautiful. The sea is beautiful. The sky is beautiful. Let’s ditch the new apartment and move out here. PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE.

Ugh, my mom’s kicking me off her computer. Guess it’s time for Condoms 101. Love you, baby girl.

-Caroline.

PS: My number is 212-866-0934! CALL ME NOW. I’m horny and I need your sexy voice. Just keeeeeding. ;)

Aalia laughed at Caroline’s newest email and whipped out her phone from within her shorts to save the phone number. She didn’t have time to call or write back at that second, but she made a mental note in her mind to do it later. She had so much unpacking to do, she didn’t know where to start. She thought of how pathetic her life sounded – the biggest thing she was worried about was where her jar of Nutella was. She sighed deeply, not up for feeling sorry for herself anymore. It was life. She had to deal.

“My trainer wanted your number,” Dylan said as she threw herself on Aalia’s bed. Aalia sat on the floor against the dresser, poking around in a box.

She scoffed loudly. “What?”

“He thought you were hot.”

“Yeah, because running on a treadmill with sweat dripping down my face is so attractive.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Did you give it to him?”

“I thought about it,” Dylan began as Aalia narrowed her eyes at her, “But then I figured it was too soon. Since Aiden, I mean.”

Aalia’s heart sank at the sound of his name. It was once the most beautiful name to her, but suddenly it became an omen. It had only been a few weeks since they had broken up. The pain was still fresh in her wounds – what he’d done to her had been beyond words. She tried to shrug it off before the water works surfaced.

“Thanks, Dyl,” she said, looking down and pretending to examine something in the box.
“He’s a piece of worthless shit, Aalia,” Dylan spat out, “He never deserved you.”

All Aalia could do was nod, eager to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about it. She doubted she could even form the words to describe it.

“So, what color should we paint Caroline’s room?” she asked Dylan in a small voice, looking up to show her eyes. Dylan knew what was going through her mind.

She stared back at Aalia apologetically. “I’d go for turquoise. She likes that.”

Aalia nodded. “I think so, too.”

-------------------------------------------

Aalia and Dylan spent the entire day unpacking and sorting out the furniture until the apartment was a complete pig sty. With empty boxes and dozens of shoes sprawled over every surface, the two of them could barely walk. Once 11 o’clock finally rolled around, Dylan decided it was time for her to head home.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said as she grabbed her keys, “And text me Caroline’s number when you get a minute.

“Will do.” Aalia pulled her into a hug and walked her to the car.

“Hey, Al…”

“Yeah?”

“Look, I’m sorry for bringing him up earlier. My offer to beat him up senseless still stands.”

Aalia chuckled at her best friend. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dylan nodded, muttered a small “love you”, and drove away, leaving Aalia alone for the rest of the night.

She walked back into the apartment and dodged a few boxes and heels to get to the kitchen where the newly discovered Nutella jar sat happily on the counter. She smiled and pulled out the loaf of bread, slathering on two heaping spoonfuls onto a slice of bread and enclosing it into a sandwich. She sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor and took a big bite as she pulled out her cell phone from her pocket. Eager to hear Caroline’s cheerful voice, she didn’t bother looking through her contacts to find the number. Instead, she trusted her memory and dialed the ten digits into her iPhone.

Setting the sandwich down on a napkin, she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” A man’s voice answered the voice. The voices in the background were loud and Aalia could barely make out anything.

“Um, hi. Is Caroline there?” she spoke into the receiver, thinking he was one of Caroline’s many one night stands.

“Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?”

She was taken aback by his furious, almost frightened tone.

“Aalia. Aalia Hart. I’m calling for Caroline Carter. Who is this?”

The man hesitated. “Just…don’t ever call this number again.”

And the line went dead.

Aalia stared at the phone, completely confused.