Chapter 16 - Spencer
Chapter Sixteen - Spencer
“Hello?”
Silence. Then heavy breathing.
“Hello?”
A slurred, quiet hesitant voice comes over the phone. “Um, Spencer?”
I sit up straighter. “Yes? Who is this?” Secretly, I’m hoping it’s Andie, but I’m not certain at this point.
“It’s . . . it’s Andie? From tonight? Well, I guess last night . . . at the club?” She’s rambling now, with her words tumbling out. “I’m so sorry for calling this late. I didn’t actually mean to call you. Shit, that’s not what I mean.” She’s flustered and it’s such an adorable quality.
“I was tryin’ to text you to let you know I made it home safe, but I fell asleep. Then I woke up and my phone was . . . and I accidentally . . .”
Andie drunk dialing at almost four o’clock in the morning should be annoying, but here I am smiling like an idiot.
“Andie? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Totally fine. Well not totally ’cause I’m still pretty drunk and my head feels like someone’s using it as a drum. But I’m home. Wasn’t that what you wanted to know?”
I can’t help but chuckle at her response. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to know. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I just . . . I don’t usually drink like that. Or call strangers. Or have—” She stops abruptly like she’s holding in a secret. “I don’t usually do any of this. Tonight was . . . different.”
Different would be one way of putting it. For you and me both.
“Different how?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I just . . . I had this really vivid dream about . . .” Her voice becomes less slurred and more panicked, catching herself before letting it all slip out. “It wasn’t important. Just weird drunken dreams, you know? The crazy stuff our brain does and—”
“Andie, you’re rambling.”
“God I’m sorry. It’s just . . . okay, so maybe I dreamed about you. Which is totally normal, right? I mean you did save me tonight, so obviously . . . but it wasn’t like a normal thank you dream. It was more like . . .” She trails off again. “Ugh, I can’t believe I just said that.”
Yeah, I wish I could’ve been there for that one. I would love to know what an abnormal thank you dream means.
“Andie, you dreamed about me?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it, please. Even better, let’s pretend this whole call never happened? ’Cause I’m pretty sure I just made this really awkward and—”
“What kind of dream?” I can’t resist asking. Hopefully she has enough liquid courage in her to let another bit slip.
Silence. I can practically hear her blushing through the phone. She’s nervous as she tries to start her sentence, but it sounds like a phone call cutting out with every sound.
“Andie? What kind of dream?”
“The kind that . . . let’s just say it would make you think I’m some crazy person who has inappropriate dreams about strangers who help her.”
Inappropriate dreams. About me. I’m definitely not forgetting this conversation anytime soon.
I’m biting back a grin. But she sounds genuinely uncomfortable about it. Clearly, she’s drunk and a bit mortified, and the last thing I want to do is make her more uncomfortable.
“Look, Andie,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “You’re not crazy. And honestly? I’m flattered.”
“You’re . . . what?” She sounds surprised.
“Flattered. It just means I made an impression, hopefully a good one.”
There’s a pause, before her soft laugh follows. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Get some sleep? We can talk when you’re feeling better?”
“Okay . . . yeah . . . That’s probably a good idea.” Another pause. “Spencer?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. You know, for tonight. And for not making me feel like a complete idiot.”
“Andie?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re not an idiot. And I meant what I said about wanting to see you again.”
“Oh.” Her voice is small and surprised. “Okay.”
“Goodnight Andie.” I hear the line go quiet, before the click of her hanging up.
I stare at my phone for a moment longer and start to laugh.
Even drunk she brings a spark to me I’ve never had before.
I quickly realize this woman is going to be the death of me, and I’m starting to think I’m okay with that.