One in a Million

One week later.

“You know, it’s almost four in the morning.”

Aalia smiled at his humorous tone. He was right; they had been talking for nearly ten hours that night.

“I know,” she yawned, “I have nothing to do when I get up tomorrow.”

She heard him laugh.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“You’re so anti-social,” he teased, “Why don’t you get outside and meet people instead of living under your rock?”

She laughed at him. “Excuse me? Well, I’m sorry I can’t be a busy bee who attends constant concerts and meets all these supposedly important people all the time. I’m not that lively.”

“You’re boring,” he said. She could practically see him smirking at her.

“Yeah? Well your…voice is funny,” she exclaimed with a poor comeback.

“My voice is funny? Is that so?”

“Yes. That is so.”

“I can make a list of people who would disagree with that,” he said, much too proud of himself, “Oh, wait. I can’t actually. It’d be too long and I’m not one to waste paper. Saving the planet is important, you know.”

She rolled her eyes at his witty comments. In seven short days, their relationship had grown. He would call her every night, exactly as the sun would begin to set. She found it odd how the pattern of his calls has emerged. Her routine molded around it. Every evening, she’d get a tall glass of lemonade and sit out on the balcony, admiring the sunset, and as if on cue, her phone would ring with him waiting for her on the other end. She figured he’d planned it that way. Nothing was ever that coincidental.

In the midst of their lengthy conversations, she had lost track of exactly how many questions she had left in the game. Every question would spark a new discussion, lasting as long as two hours at a time. It seemed they always had something to say to one another. Their conversations looped themselves, never ending until one of them finally fell asleep.

“When are you going to tell me your name?” Aalia asked as she mixed her cold lemonade with her straw.

He chuckled, but she saw nothing funny. “I told you. When we finish the game.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t even know how many questions I have left to ask. I lost track three days ago.”

“I haven’t lost track yet,” he murmured, “I have five and you have seven.”

She was surprisingly taken aback. “You’re just making up numbers.”

“No, I’ve been writing them down.”

She was even more taken aback.

“Why?” she wondered, “And how is it that you have less than me?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just more curious about you, so I ask more questions.”

Aalia nodded, recalling his past questions and how in-depth they had always been. While she mainly asked simple questions about his favorite colors and hobbies, he had asked about her insight on religion, pop culture, and many other classy, intelligent subjects that actually caused her to think for many minutes before answering. She could tell he was different. Not only was he immensely mature, but he was also funny, generous, and extremely kindhearted. She listened intently for hours on different charities he supported and his hopes and goals for the future.

“Can I ask my next question?” he asked.

“You just did.”

He laughed too loudly, then abruptly stopped, creating silence. “No. You’re not funny.”

“Hey! Jerk,” Aalia exclaimed, “Fine, ask your stupid question.”

He chuckled lightly before continuing. “How many kids do you want to have and what would you name them?”

“That should count as two questions,” she said cheekily, “Damn, I don’t know. I guess I want to have at least three, two girls and a boy.”

“What would you name them?” he repeated.

“For the girls, I’d name them Zara and Mila,” she said with a smile.

“Those sound really exotic. I’m not really surprised.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause your name is pretty exotic too,” he said, “Where are you from?”

“I was born in Colorado and my mom is from Michigan, but my dad is Persian. So I look Persian and have a Persian name. Except for my last name. 'Hart' isn't very exotic. My mom wanted to keep her maiden name when she got married, for some reason,” she laughed.

“That’s really awesome,” he complimented her.

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“What about for the boy?

“For the boy, I guess if I had to choose a Persian-like name to keep the trend going, I’d go with Zakria, or Zack for short. But I’ve always liked Adam. I don’t know why. Or Nicholas.”

She heard him laugh and thought she’d missed some sort of joke.

“You like the name Nicholas?” he asked indifferently.

“Um, yeah?” she said slowly. “Why? You don’t?”

“It’s pretty cool. I know a guy named Nicholas… Anyway,” he said, still laughing, “Did that count as two questions?”

“It should count as three since you asked where I’m from, too,” she snickered, “But I’ll be nice and let you go.” She was still trying to figure out what exactly he thought was so funny.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“Thanks, you’re too kind.”

Aalia rolled her eyes.

“Alright, I have a question now,” she said after taking a sip of her drink.

“Ask away,” he replied.

She sifted through her already answered questions to find one she hadn’t asked yet. She’d already found out that he lived in California, his favorite color was blue, his favorite sport was baseball, his favorite instrument was the drums, and he had a dog and three brothers. She decided she’d go more into depth with her questions.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she began, already worried it could lead to trouble, “What happened with your last girlfriend?”

He contemplated her question for a few seconds before answering.

“We just realized we had differences that were too great,” he said quietly, “She was really outgoing and I’m just kind of reserved, I guess. I found out in the end that she was using me.”

“I’m really sorry.” She regretted asking the question, even more after because she knew he’d want to know the same about her.

“It’s fine,” he sighed, “At least I got a few songs out of it.”

She nodded, remembering his favorite hobby was songwriting.

“What about you?” he asked. Her heart sank, expecting those exact words to come out of his mouth, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your last boyfriend?”

She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to speak. It would be the first time she would say it out loud. She leaned back against her chair and propped her bare feet up, hugging her knees to her chest.

“We were together for about three years,” she said, “We were voted ‘Most Likely to Become High School Sweethearts’ in the yearbook.” She laughed humorlessly. “But a few months ago, I found out he was cheating on me.”

She heard a small, sharp intake of breath from the Mystery Boy.

“It was really upsetting,” she continued, “I really loved him. It only got worse when I found out he got the girl pregnant…”

Her voice drowned out and she closed her eyes to regain her strength. Patiently, he waited on the other line.

“Anyway, we broke up, obviously. I changed my number and deleted my Facebook so he’d leave me alone, and so far I’ve been okay.”

She waited for some sort of reaction, but there was silence.

“So that’s the long story short,” she said finally.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with certainty in his voice, “I really, truly am.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, “It was a learning experience. I just have to be more careful from now on.”

“Relationships are just hard,” he sighed deeply.

“Yeah,” she said, taking another sip of lemonade, “Tell me about it.”