6. Chapter 6 #3
In the shadow of my fangirling, Summoner was quiet. But my heart skipped a beat when I noticed the red and pink rings around his clenched knuckles. Wind gone from my sails, I shrank back into my seat.
“…Thank you for the kind words, Poppy. What I’m trying to say is that ‘Millennial Fashion: What We Love to Miss’ might have no meaning to you, but it might have made someone else’s day. And if it doesn’t, you’re young…How old are you?”
“33.”
“Ah, 33. You’re… you’re young. There’s time.” His voice was quiet, almost hoarse.
“Thank you.”
I closed the lid on my food and drank the rest of my boba tea. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced over at Summoner, he closed the lid of his now-empty food container and sighed.
“…It’s getting kinda late, Poppy. Shall we call it a night?”
My heart sank, but I couldn’t protest. The air was now sullen and heavy. It was best I head home. I nodded. Summoner led me to the front door, where I awkwardly fought to put on my shoes.
Why can’t I do anything smoothly?
I looked up from my internal grumbling and tying my shoes to see Summoner had vanished.
I didn’t like him staring at me with those eyes of his while I flailed around, but I still wanted to tell him goodnight.
My negative ass had really ruined things.
Made things too serious. I zipped up my coat and turned to the door, unsure what to do.
Should I really leave without saying anything?
“Wait!” Summoner’s voice rang out as he lazily jogged down the hall.
His cheeks were pink, but not from running. I didn’t question it.
“Thank you for tonight, Poppy.”
I shrugged. “No, thank you. I enjoy your company, and the free tea and food are just a bonus.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve started a tab. I’m keeping track.” He grinned.
“Jerk.”
“Of course…”
Summoner reached forward and grabbed my hand. My lips pressed into a hard line. The contact was unexpected. So unexpected. Summoner’s hand was large. It swallowed mine. The tender touch of his fingertips across my skin strangled me. I couldn’t breathe. Air laid stagnant and sour in my lungs.
His hands…
Calloused and rough. Worn from years of playing the guitar.
Acoustic, electric, bass. Years of coaxing such loving notes from instruments had molded his hands.
I’d read an old interview where he talked about how he started playing guitar in his attic bedroom as a kid.
These rough ridges had history, and they were now touching me.
His warmth spread to my skin, seeping in through my pores, and setting me on fire.
“Thank you, Poppy.” His voice was as ragged as his hands.
I nodded, and the moment was gone. He let go of me.
Dazed, I stumbled out the front door and somehow made it to the elevator.
The dinging of the descending floors helped tether me to reality.
My chest burned as my body remembered how amazing breathing was.
I blinked. There was something in my hand.
I opened my loose fist to find a crumpled piece of paper.
I unfolded it and it read: Please let me know when you make it home.
His phone number…He gave me his phone number.
I held the piece of paper to my chest. I was an annoying pain in the ass, apparently, but an annoying pain in the ass he gave his number to! A grin filled my face. The glimpse I caught of myself in the elevator’s mirrors was shameful, but it couldn’t be helped.
I floated home. My fingers and toes tingled from the cold by the time I walked in my apartment.
I kicked off my boots, tossed my coat on the floor, and I dragged my ass to my bedroom in search of my pajamas.
Once I changed, I grabbed my phone and the paper from the pocket of my jeans.
I carefully unfolded the paper and stared at Summoner’s handwriting.
The letters were blocky and neat, much like him.
I placed the paper on my desk/vanity/nightstand on top of the bootleg vinyl that led me to him in the first place.
My apartment was dark except for my small desk lamp. I pulled back my covers and flopped into bed. I had far too many pillows, but it was one of the few decadent things I allowed myself. I saw a cute little throw pillow with a silly saying or a ribbon, and I had to have it.
I stared at the ceiling as the weight of my phone in my hand became too much to ignore.
During my walk home, I saved his number.
I punched in the numbers with glee. I had too much excited energy then, but now it had become nerves jostling around in my stomach.
I glanced at the time and groaned. My hands had started to tremble.
I needed to rip the band aid off. I pressed the call button.
One ring
Two rings
Three rings
“…Hello?”
My whole body straightened and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hi. Hello! Hi!” I breathed.
He chuckled, “Poppy.”
The smile was evident in his voice. When he said my name, amusement colored his voice. I had never noticed before the rainbow of scribbles around my name when he spoke. I loved it. It was like him singing without any melody.
“I, uh, so, I made it home.”
“Good. I was hoping. Though if you were in some spot of trouble, we’d figure a way to get you out.”
“Are you telling me if I was kidnapped, you’d come storming in guns blazing?”
“Eh, don’t get ahead of yourself, young lady. I’d hire someone. I’m not gonna be putting Liam Neeson out of a job quite yet.”
My cheek bunched up against the phone as I smiled like an idiot. There was a bit of rustling on his end of the call.
I swallowed. “Are you in bed?”
“Yes, I am. Are you Poppy?”
“Yeah.”
My face went hot. I had never thought of Summoner’s bed before, but now the thought filled my head.
Did he sleep on a firm or soft mattress?
Was he a man that liked a high thread count sheet?
What did his pajamas look like?
Did he even sleep in pajamas?
Silence filled the air between us. But it wasn’t empty. It was meaningful silence, as if such a thing existed. A silence that hugged me tight.
“…Goodnight, Poppy.”
The sound of his smile in my ear made my body tingly.
“Goodnight, Summoner.”
I held the phone to my ear until he ended the call. This was surreal. But I liked it. My body sank under the covers and melted into a happy puddle once known as Poppy.