Page 8 of That's Not a Thing

“Try again?” he asked. “But slow it down so I can get it right. You’re slightly distracting in your pajamas, you know, or lack thereof.” He looked me up and down again, and I could feel his eyes sweeping over me as surely as a smooth touch, exploring my every line and curve.

I swallowed hard and repeated the number for him. I waited for him to type it in, then asked, “Can I get back in bed now?” As much as I enjoyed the repartee, I was at too great a disadvantage in my present state. If he wanted to continue this conversation, it would have to happen after I’d had a chance to brush my hair and put on a push-up bra. Maybe even a cute sweater on top of it, if I was lucky.

“Sure. I’ll call you.” He raised a hand in farewell, his eyes flashing with something akin to victory as he looked down at his phone and turned to walk away.

As soon as I climbed back into my single bed and pulled up the covers, my phone started vibrating. I lifted it from the nightstand and saw a number I didn’t recognize. My first thought was that something might have happened with my mother.

“Hello?” It came out as a demand as I answered the phone.

“So, what’s your schedule later?”

I recognized that voice.

“Wesley?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you calling me?” I laughed out loud. “You just left my room.”

“Right,” he answered, his voice sounding even deeper over the phone. “And I said I would call you.”

“I didn’t know you meant you were calling me right this second! Didn’t I say I was going back to sleep?”

“No. You said you were going back to bed. Big difference. You could be doing any number of things in bed. I could list some of them for you, if you’d like. Even talk you through a few of them.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn’t help grinning back into the phone.

“How about if I just go back to sleep and you call me another time? Maybe when you’re feeling a little more PG-13.” I was too giddy from his attention to be tired anymore, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

“Nah, I’m good to talk now. I’m not really a patient person.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that. Okay, then, what’s doing?” I pulled my plaid comforter more tightly around me and burrowed into my pillow, holding the phone against my other ear.

“I have class until seven. Can I take you out for enormous pizza afterward?”

“Koronet?” I tried to remember if I had mentioned to him how much I loved the gargantuan slices at that place. “Wait, I can’t. I’m on duty at Community Kitchen until nine.”

“I thought they always close up by seven. Now, you know it’s not right to open your door for me in your skivvies and then make up excuses to avoid spending time with me. Cruel, really, is what it is.” I could hear the confidence in his tone, like he knew I wasn’t deliberately putting him off, and I wondered if should make this a little more difficult for him. But the fact was, this conversation felt so effortless that I didn’t want to behave like anyone other than myself.

“No, we do stop serving at seven.” I thought of the sign posted at the side door of the church, listing the soup kitchen’s hours in bold print, but I gave him a hard time anyway. “Pretty sketchy that you’ve been keeping tabs on my hours, don’t you think?”

“Just doing my due diligence,” he parried, and I stifled a grin.

“I stick around after closing to clean up and prepare sandwiches for the next day. But I need to do some work tonight. You know, seeing as how I completely blew off my classes today, thanks to my RA, who’s apparently a crappy influence. Never mind the tastiness of his cookies.” We were both silent for a beat, and then I had a thought. “You could come with me to the library, if you want ...”

I figured he’d probably shoot down that idea, but I couldn’t let this guy completely derail me, no matter how much I admired the definition of his jaw. Even though I was only in my first year of college, I already knew I would be applying to law school in a few years, and I was committed to making grades that would create opportunities for me.

“Okay, sure,” he said. “I could do that. Meet me outside Butler at nine thirty.”

“Really?” I caught myself and tried to cover my surprise. “You got it, Cookie Monster. See you there.”

After ending the call, I rested my head back on the pillow and noticed I was still smiling to myself. Not even a minute passed before the phone, which I was still holding in my hand, started vibrating again.

“Are you kidding me? I’m seriously trying to go back to sleep!” I answered, laughing.

“Meredith?”

“Oh, shit, Mom.” I sat up in bed, the covers falling away from me. “Sorry! I thought you were someone else.”

“Why are you sleeping in the middle of the afternoon?” she asked, and I could hear the concern lacing her watered-down voice. The depth of endurance required for the aggressive chemo she was undergoing left her with energy for little else. She had only another few weeks before the treatments would be finished, but from where I sat, it seemed like the chemo was more of a danger to her than the breast cancer.