7 Francesca
I wake up and realize it isn't to the sound of my alarm. For a second, panic flares in my chest before I remember it's Sunday.
I roll onto my back and smile.
Ryan must have tucked me in last night. Plugged my phone in. Turned my alarm off.
The memory of the drifts back.
Ryan and Christian had come over for dinner and then we played cards with Gram. The only person who can beat her at poker is Jamie, but he was working, so she absolutely destroyed the rest of us.
Afterward, we all piled onto the couch and watched some baseball game Ryan was excited about. I don't remember much of it. I must have fallen asleep somewhere around the fifth inning.
What I do remember is waking up for a second being tucked into my bed by Ryan.
When he left for college, I assumed he’d start to disappear. we'd slowly see less and less of him until eventually he became one of those people who only came around on holidays.
Instead, the opposite happened.
If anything, I see him more now than I did when he was in high school.
It's such a strange realization because Ryan never talks about it. Never acts like he’s missing parties, bars, whatever it is the rest of his teammates or classmates are doing.
He just acts like there's nowhere else he'd rather be than watching TV with me and my grandmother on a Saturday night.
My phone starts ringing.
Ever since it broke, answering it has become a surprise. I can't read texts anymore, so every call is basically a mystery.
Granted, it's usually one of four people.
Given the hour, my money is on Christian.
Jamie sleeps like the dead, especially after a night of doing God-knows-what, and Ryan is only awake this early if baseball or school is involved.
Christian, on the other hand, voluntarily wakes up before sunrise and runs several miles.
Like an absolute psychopath.
Running as a hobby sounds ridiculous to me. I complete the state-mandated mile once a year for gym class, but beyond that, I reserve running for very specific circumstances.
Like being chased by a wolf.
I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Are you awake?” Christian’s deep voice asks and I smile as a warm feeling spreads through me at the same time.
“I mean, I am now.”
“Right. Well- can you come over? I have something for you. Or I can come there. You know what, I’ll just be over in a minute. Is the door locked? Never mind, I’ll just use my key.”
The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving me smiling.
I push myself out of bed, pull on a pair of shorts, and head into the living room- unsurprised to find Christian already unlocking the front door and striding in like he owns the place.
Which, technically, he does.
He’s fully dressed, looking all put together in dark jeans and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
And the beard.
God, the beard.
At some point in the last year, Christian grew it, and it’s taken an already handsome guy and made him devastatingly attractive.
He’s always been tall and broad-shouldered, with those dark eyes behind his glasses and that thick brown hair that somehow never seems out of place.
But the beard makes him look older. Like he’s a fully grown man.
And I’m just a teenager with a really inconvenient crush.
When he moved in next door, I was relieved. My mom had just died, and Gary had started drinking- disappearing for days at a time. Everything fell on me overnight. I’d even thought about dropping out of school just to keep up with the house and Gram.
Then Christian showed up.
And suddenly, I could breathe again.
“Morning, Francesca,” he says, already heading into the kitchen and taking a seat at the small table. “I got you a new phone.”
“Wait- what?” I follow him in as he pulls two boxes out of the plastic bag in his hand.
“Yeah. New phones for you and Gram.” He opens one, revealing a shiny new device.
He holds the other box out to me.
I take it, because there’s no point arguing with him about things like this. I hate the way it feels- like charity- but I don’t hate him for it. Not even a little.
I open the box and gasp. “It’s pink!”
He smiles, and it softens something in his face- makes him look younger, less… untouchable.
“It was the same price,” he says with a shrug. “Figured you’d like it.”
I set the phone down and step forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He’s tall- taller than Ryan or Jamie- so I barely have to bend down even though he’s sitting. .
“Thank you, Christian. For everything. I owe you- ”
“Stop.”
The word is firm. Commanding.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. Then, softer, “Now let’s get this set up.”