Grey
post-it notes
I was a mess after Grey gave me her phone number. I shielded my hand in an odd sort of position all the way back to my dorm room, for fear the pen would smudge and I’d lose the numbers written there.
I wrote the number out three times, on three separate post-it notes. I stuck one on the wall beside my bed, one on my desk and one on the back of the door. Just in case. I sat on the floor in the middle of the room and looked around at them, my cell phone in hand. I entered her number into my phone. Deleted it. Entered it again. Deleted it once more.
My roommate, Rory, found me there a few hours later. I remember the confused look on his face, and then the way he laughed when I explained to him what had happened. He took my phone from me and entered the number, pressing the call button before I could get it back.
He tossed it back at me with a grin, before sitting down on his bed across the room to watch me. My thumb hovered over the End button, but the voice coming through the tiny speakers stopped me. I brought the phone to my ear.
“Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Nate,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice and smiled, too, despite my nervousness.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I know you, Nate,” she replied easily. My heart skipped a beat. I ran a hand through my messy, brown hair and laughed lightly. I didn’t know what to say next. I hadn’t been planning to call her. That was all Rory.
“I’m free this weekend,” Grey prompted, like she knew.
“Me too,” I said. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
She lived off-campus, she told me, in a tiny apartment with her younger brother. She gave me the address and I fumbled for yet another post-it note to scrawl the details on. We said our goodbyes. She hung up first.
I stared at my phone afterwards. Rory’s obnoxiously loud laugh broke me out of my trance. “You’ve got it bad,” he said. I looked at him, confused. He just smiled and said:
“Who’s the girl?”
I wrote the number out three times, on three separate post-it notes. I stuck one on the wall beside my bed, one on my desk and one on the back of the door. Just in case. I sat on the floor in the middle of the room and looked around at them, my cell phone in hand. I entered her number into my phone. Deleted it. Entered it again. Deleted it once more.
My roommate, Rory, found me there a few hours later. I remember the confused look on his face, and then the way he laughed when I explained to him what had happened. He took my phone from me and entered the number, pressing the call button before I could get it back.
He tossed it back at me with a grin, before sitting down on his bed across the room to watch me. My thumb hovered over the End button, but the voice coming through the tiny speakers stopped me. I brought the phone to my ear.
“Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Nate,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice and smiled, too, despite my nervousness.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I know you, Nate,” she replied easily. My heart skipped a beat. I ran a hand through my messy, brown hair and laughed lightly. I didn’t know what to say next. I hadn’t been planning to call her. That was all Rory.
“I’m free this weekend,” Grey prompted, like she knew.
“Me too,” I said. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
She lived off-campus, she told me, in a tiny apartment with her younger brother. She gave me the address and I fumbled for yet another post-it note to scrawl the details on. We said our goodbyes. She hung up first.
I stared at my phone afterwards. Rory’s obnoxiously loud laugh broke me out of my trance. “You’ve got it bad,” he said. I looked at him, confused. He just smiled and said:
“Who’s the girl?”
