Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
MALIK
After a long day of appointments, I finally pull into my driveway. I lean back in my truck for a moment, exhaling slowly. I’ve been thinking about Indigo all day. Hell, I’ve been thinking about her for the past month, but today, I’m finally going to talk to her on the phone.
First things first, though—I need to eat. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent meal that wasn’t fast food or something I grabbed on the go, so tonight, I’m taking my time. I head inside and set my stuff down, making my way to the kitchen, where the air still carries the faint scent of the coffee I brewed this morning.
I get busy pulling out everything I need for dinner. Street corn chicken and rice casserole. It’s simple, hearty, and comforting—exactly what I need to settle my nerves. The chicken sizzles in the pan, and the smell of spices and corn fills the kitchen, making my stomach growl as I chop cilantro and stir the rice. My mind keeps drifting back to Indigo. Every time I think about hearing her voice, nervous energy pools in my stomach, the kind I haven’t felt since high school. Like I’m about to ask a girl out to homecoming or something.
I shake off the thought, focusing on the food in front of me. I layer the chicken and corn over the rice, pouring the creamy sauce over the top before popping the dish into the oven. As it bakes, the kitchen fills with warmth, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the oven door. I look calm and collected, but inside, I’m a mess.
Once the casserole is done, I serve myself a plate; the smell makes my stomach growl. The chicken is tender, the corn sweet with a kick of spice, and the rice soaks up all the flavors perfectly. I eat slowly, enjoying the dish I created, but my mind is already racing ahead to what’s coming next.
After dinner, I clean the kitchen, wiping down the counters, loading the dishwasher, and putting away the leftovers. The routine helps settle my nerves, but my hands are trembling just a little as I dry the last plate and set it in the cupboard. I glance at my phone on the counter, my heart rate picking up.
It’s now or never.
I pick up the phone, typing out a quick text.
Me: Hey, is now a good time to call?
Her response comes almost immediately.
Indigo: Duh.
My fingers hover over the screen, my heart pounding in my chest like a hummingbird’s wings. I’m not nervous about what she’ll say, exactly—it’s more about what this means. We’ve been texting for weeks and hearing her voice feels like crossing a line we can’t uncross.
But I can’t back out now. I stare at her name, my thumb hovering over the call button for a second longer than necessary before I finally press it.
It rings twice before she answers.
“Hey.” Her voice is raspy, with a slightly higher pitch at the end of the word. The sound of it hits me harder than I expected, stirring something deep inside me.
“Hi,” I say, my voice softer than I intended, like I’m trying not to spook her—or maybe myself.
She laughs, the sound rich and playful, and it goes straight to my gut. “Well, you don’t sound ninety or female.”
I join in her laughter, the nerves easing out of me just a bit. “Definitely male. And when I said thirty-three, I was serious.”
“Good to know. So…” Her voice drops a little, almost sultry. “Does my voice live up to the hype?”
“The hype?” I ask, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“You said you wanted to hear my voice, so I wanted to know if it was everything you thought it would be.” She’s teasing me, and damn, she’s good at it.
I pause, taking a breath before answering. “Sure is. You sound as sweet as your texts usually are.”
“Sweet?” She gasps, sounding mock-offended. “I’ll have to work harder to show you my dark side.”
I chuckle. “You want a pet raccoon. I think I already know plenty about your dark side.”
She snorts, and the sound is so unguarded, so real, that it makes me feel like I’ve known her forever. “Touché.”
There’s a moment of silence, but it’s comfortable—like we’re both just sitting with each other, letting the sound of our breathing fill the gap. I find myself imagining what she’s doing right now. Is she lying on her bed? Pacing around her living room? My mind spins with the possibilities, but I don’t ask. Not yet.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she says suddenly, her voice softer now, more vulnerable.
My heart skips a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “I mean, it’s weird, right? We’ve never met, and I feel like I… I don’t know, I feel like I know you. Like really know you.”
Her words stir something deep in me. I feel the same way, but hearing her say it makes it more real in a way. Clenching the phone a little tighter, I attempt to maintain a steady voice. “I feel the same way.”
There’s a pause, and then she speaks again, her tone more guarded. “But you know, I’m a little… well, I’m not exactly normal.”
I smile, even though she can’t see it. “Who is?”
She huffs out a breath. “No, I mean, I don’t have a lot of friends. I can get pretty intense, and not many can handle that.”
I lean back against the kitchen counter, staring out the window as the last traces of daylight fade. “Indigo, I think I can handle you.”
Her laugh is quieter this time, almost shy. “You think?”
“I know,” I say, and I mean it. There’s something about her that feels wild, unpredictable—but in a way that draws me in, not scares me off.
“Well, you might regret saying that one day,” she murmurs, her voice dipping lower, like she’s letting me in on a secret. “I’m a handful.”
“I’m ready for it,” I reply, my pulse quickening.
“Okay,” she says, breaking the silence. “I guess we’ll see, huh?”
“Yeah,” I agree, my voice a little rough. “I guess we will.”
For the next hour, we talk about everything and nothing. Her laugh becomes a constant in the conversation, her wit sharp but never cruel. I tell her about my day, about the job I just locked in, and she cheers me on like she’s been in my corner forever. I feel lighter with each passing minute, the nerves I had before fading until they’re completely gone.
By the time we hang up, I’m smiling like an idiot, staring at my phone long after the screen has gone dark.