“Its like this,” I say, my mouth all poised to run down some quick game I haven’t used in awhile.
“Oh, shut up,” he says, laughing at me. “You’re about to say some bullshit.” I smile. And then I giggle. Before I know it I am holding the phone all out rolling laughing on the floor. This guy…
“No, really,” I try to start again.
“No, really, La. You’re full of shit.”
I laugh again. I’m stuck. I don’t know what to say.
“You done?” he asks.
“Yeah, actually. I think I am.” We talk for hours, the requisite 1 or 2 hour conversations getting stretched into 6, 7, 8 hour conversations without a pause. The sun starts creeping through my windows and I imagine it’s doing the same where he is. My phone battery is screaming at me in protest from overuse. He cuts in.
“It’s like this…” We both pause. Then we both fall out laughing. After we compose ourselves, he tries again.
“I think I like you,” he says. “Well, if I’m honest about it, I always liked you. And with all the bullshit that went down I was afraid I’d never get to talk to you like this. So, I’m glad I got the chance to. So, yeah. That’s all.” I smile at the words. He’s awkward. And for the first time in a long time, I’ve got butterflies. Serious butterflies.
“Look,” I say and he cuts me off.
“Sounds like bullshit.” I laugh because he’s right.
“I think I like you too,” I say in the tiny voice that means I’m nervous, skeptical of treading this path. He says nothing for a moment and just when I think I’ll suffocate under the weight of the silence he says, “That damn near killed you didn’t it?” We burst out laughing again. He’s so cute. So damn charming. I’m picturing his face in my head. Can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.
At the end of our laughter he says to me, “I can’t wait to see you.” I smile because he sounds sincere, excited, like a little boy who knows Christmas is right around the corner.
“Alright,” he says, recovering nicely from that sappy moment. “You done with the bullshit?”
“Yeah,” I reply, smiling despite myself, “I really think I am.”