Page 27 of The One
9
Two weeks into spring semester, and I’d fallen back into the groove of my life. Winter break was a blur, except for Rhys because thoughts of him came through clear as a diamond. He kept me updated on Sadie and her pregnancy through texts and phone calls that left me without sleep before a day of lectures. Rhys sent me pictures of the white and gold nursery, outings he shared with Sadie and Matthew, but my favorite were pictures he’d taken of anything just for me.
Sharing our worlds with each other from a distance left me wanting, with thoughts of Rhys keeping me happily distracted. Flashes of his messages would pop into my mind all day long, the flirting and coy texts bringing a smile no matter where I was or when it was. We’d grown to expect contact, and it was creating a foundation that I craved. In our own way, Rhys was there when I needed him, no matter the distance.
“You’re staying late,” Angelo stated the obvious. His Italian accent was so thick, I wondered if it was even real or part of an act, like he and Professor Ricci traveled the world pretending to be professor and assistant for kicks. His cologne overwhelmed the small office space, and I think that’s what finally drained my yellow roses of life. They were suffocating, and I feared I would slowly be, too.
“It’s Friday,” Angelo continued. “You should come out with us tonight.”
“Thank you, but I have to pass.” I offered a smile and returned to the stack of essays on my desk. I’d made it through about half and graded them, but sharing the space with Angelo was not helpful. Neither was the screen on my phone flashing in my periphery.
Rhys: Can I tell you how annoying Matthew and Sadie are when they’re talking on the phone?
“Funny essay?” Angelo probed, approaching my desk while tying his scarf. I flipped my phone over and looked up at him, still smiling from Rhys’s message.
“No,” I replied to Angelo, but wasn’t sure why I couldn’t engage with Rhys. Of course, I knew how disgusting it was to listen to Sadie and Matthew on the phone because I’d experienced that over Christmas.
I flinched in my chair when Angelo pressed his hand around my shoulder. “Come out, Mia. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Don’t touch me.”
But Angelo persisted, his thin lips twisting into a smile that turned my stomach. My phone flashed again, both of us distracted by the light. His hand grew heavier as I reached for my phone and accepted the incoming call from Rhys, moving from beneath Angelo and spinning my office chair between us as a barrier with my phone on speaker.
“Honey,” I fabricated while glaring at Angelo, hoping to send him a message, “I’m just leaving and wondered if you’d like me to pick up dinner.” It took Rhys a moment before he said anything, a moment filled with Angelo crossing his arms and slowly walking backward away from my desk. “Better yet,” I continued, “could you pick me up?”
“Of course,” Rhys answered. “I can be there in ten minutes.” Watching Angelo stuff himself into his coat before shuffling papers on his desk and leaving the office was amusing and, once I saw him running along the sidewalk beneath the window, I took Rhys off speaker and fell into my chair.
“Thank you for calling me,” I mumbled, catching my breath.
Rhys’s words muffled, almost like he pressed the phone against his mouth. “Are you okay, Mia? Do you need me to call the police for you? What’s happening?”
“I’m fine. The assistant I told you about the last time we talked… I think he was hitting on me. We’re the only ones down this hall. He put his hand on me and was pressuring me to go out. It just felt wrong.”
“I wish I really was there,” Rhys sighed, “to hear you call me honey one more time and then to kick that guy’s ass.” His soft chuckle followed my relieved giggle on the other line. “I’m surprised you answered after our missed calls this week.”
I organized the remaining essays while he spoke and swiped the track pad on my laptop to activate my screen. My calendar was still open to March as I’d already prepared some study groups for mid-terms.
“I’ve,” I uttered, looking at the Tuesday in March that I’d cleared just a couple weeks ago, “been busy.”
“And distracted,” he chimed in. “Let me walk you home.” I closed my laptop and spun in the chair, turning to peer out the window as I closed my eyes and blushed like a fool for thinking he was actually out there. “Take me home with you, open some wine, and we can talk about what’s on your mind all night,” Rhys continued.
Thankful he couldn’t see my cheeks, I stood from my desk and glared at Angelo’s mess.
“This guy is a pig,” I grumbled. “You should see the slimy way he looks at females. He never cleans up after himself and somehow everyone likes him.”
“Sounds like your sister,” Rhys snickered. “She’s getting married in two months and gapes hopelessly at some of Matthew’s friends.”
Thinking of Sadie was sad and frustrating, and a surprising tinge of jealousy sprung at me. I thought it was because Rhys got to spend time with her, but as his tired voice rambled on the other line, I realized I was more jealous of Sadie for spending time with him.
Our phone call carried into the cab ride home, Rhys doing most of the talking while I calmed down from my evening. He was telling me about a new series of photographs he was working on that would take him to Germany for two weeks when I’d kicked off my shoes and pulled the cork from a bottle of wine. The universe was troubling, throwing reminders of my ex at me on rapid fire lately.
“What was that sigh?” Rhys questioned, his own voice growing heavy with fatigue. It was well after midnight for him, but he never suggested hanging up. That’s how our phone calls were since he returned to London, comforting and long. They felt like the two dates we shared, but each call left me wanting more, even with all the control I tried to maintain.
Confronting the erased calendar reminder of what would’ve been another year with Caleb didn’t help me cope with it, but the wine I’d poured for myself and my imaginary friend certainly did. I told Rhys everything because he wasn’t sitting across from me to look at me with his deep brown eyes, or make me want him as much as I would’ve had we been physically together.
“Thank you for listening,” I told him when I’d grown tired of moaning about my ex, “and for being my friend.”
“Is that what we are?” I could hear his beautiful grin through the phone, its contagious effect lifting my smile. “Well, cheers to being friends, honey.”