Page 59 of Rush

Maybe I’m imagining things. But the buzzing only grows louder, more persistent.

Curiosity peaks,fine. I roll back over, reaching for my phone.

It’s 3 a.m., who could be calling me at this hour?

Unknown number.

My heart kicks up, I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but something in meneedsto know. I swipe to answer, pressing it to my ear.

“Hello?”

There’s a pause, heavy with static and breathing.

“Elena…”

His voice is rough, low, I recognize it immediately, blinking against the dark as all the hairs on my body come to life.

“Alex.”

“I miss you,” he slurs. “I—God, I miss you so much.”

Is he drunk?

I shut my eyes, my chest aching, caught somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to throw the phone across the room.

He does miss me, but why does his confirmation hurt so much.

“I saw you…saw you…up there. Singing. Looking so fucking beautiful.”

My throat tightens, hope flickering in my heart.Was he there? Did he come to my show?

A mess of incoherent words tumble out of his mouth. “You wereours, you know?” he trails off muttering in Swedish.

Ours.

“Alex, are you okay?”

“Okay, okay. It’s…okay.” His voice sounds so defeated.

I clench my chest, fighting back the tears that threaten to form.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you…not allowed,” he says helplessly.

His words hit me like a sucker-punch.

I sit up.

“What do you mean, Alex? Not allowed? Who said you couldn’t talk to me?” I ask, desperate for answers, was this the reason he ended things?

Why wasn’t he allowed to speak to me?

“Don’t tell anyone,” Alex hiccups. “You were…magnificent. Online…” he adds, skating right past my question.

Online?

Why would he show up tonight when he didn’t bother to show up for my birthday?

My frustration simmers.