I let my cell phone ring a few more times, reading “Bryan” flash across the screen in bright letters repeatedly. Funny how nobody else’s name that flashed up would make me so anxious. On the last ring, I flipped open my phone. “Hello?” I was breathless.

“Alex?” The was a silence in which I could almost hear my belly flop.

 “Hey, I was just wondering about you,” I said, honestly.

“Yeah, I was thinking about you too. I think I figured out what happened last night. It just came to me out-of-nowhere. Dude, how drunk were we?”

I laughed, trying to hide the fear in my voice. He knew me too well though.

 “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Alex. Stuff like that happens all the time, right?” So, he did know. Just how much did he know was the real question. What if he knew more than I did?

“Yeah, sure! I mean, what do you think of it?” I could hear him blush when he spoke next.

 “It was…probably natural right? Was it okay?” It was more than okay, from the scraps of memories I had, but I couldn’t go telling him that he had made one of my fantasies come true, even if we were both far from being sober and actually remembering the moment in its entirety. I could not believe that he actually sounded…interested in what took place. I hesitated, and apparently, a bit too long, missing my shot at divulging any deeper into the topic. “I’m sorry-” he apologized, and I instantly felt horrible.

 “No,” I interrupted, “I kind of…I mean….it was good.” I could hear shallow breaths on the other line as I pictured him on the phone in his room, sprawled across his bed, twisting the phone cord around his fingers worriedly.

 “Yeah,” he finally said, after what seemed like an eternity. In that moment, my heart grew wings; I had been waiting years for something like this to happen, and he actually seemed fine with it. Not repulsed, not freaked out, not rejecting of me or himself. “I’m going to shower,” he said casually, as if things were back to normal, and I silently let out a breath of relief that things hadn’t changed too much for my comfort.

 “Can I join you?” slipped out of my mouth and I slapped myself on the forehead for being so advancing.

“What?” “I mean, later…let’s go for coffee or something.”

 “Bro, that’s what chicks do.”

 “I know, but I think we should talk.”

 “Sounds fine with me. I’ll pick you up in about a half an hour. Later, mate” Then he hung up while I mouthed into nothingness, I love you.

He walked into my house, his hair still wet from the shower he just took, and shook a few drops from his hair when he tossed his head to the side, doing that hair toss thing that drove me crazy, in the best way possible. “Sorry I’m a little late- the traffic outside your house is ridiculous!” It took me a moment to catchy onto what he was saying since he looked so good in a v-neck and skinny jeans. Better than usual, might I add.

“Oh, yeah!” I replied, “There’s some construction going on. It’s totally evil.” There was a brief, awkward moment in which we both looked down at our shoes and rocked side-to-side out of habit.

“So, let’s go to this coffee house you were talking about,” he said, and we both headed out to his truck, his baby. He pumped the music up, something Eminem that I couldn’t stand, but grew to obsess about because it reminded me of him. When we got to the coffee house, some organic-style place that prided themselves in saving ever acre of the forest with their natural ingredients, he went to my side and opened the door for me. I sat there, dumfounded for a few moments, then swung my legs out over the seat and jumped to the ground. “Erm, thanks,” I said, my face turning an unattractive shade of pink. I could feel my cheeks burning. It was the most gentleman-like thing any guy has ever done for me. He even opened the door to the coffee house, named Rainforest something-or-another, which I cherished for the wild-life atmosphere. We picked a table with a mosaic on it near the front door after ordering 2 café mocha lattes. He looked at me in amazement while we ordered, since I had everything down to the last whip cream detail like only a coffee-holic should know. We each sipped our drinks while taking in the atmosphere around us. It truly was a sight to see with vines and wildlife ambience music. Finally, he confessed. “I’m terribly sorry about last night.” So, he regretted it?

“What do you mean?”

 “I know she’s your best friend and everything, but we were drunk, and things got all messed up and…I don’t know.”

“Wait, what?!” He looked at me incredulously and looked at him back like he had spoken another language entirely. “Wait, wait, wait. My best friend…Kayla?”

“No, your other best girl friend, Violet,” he said sarcastically.

 “Ohhhh.” I paused, utterly confused. “What happened?”

“Well…” he stirred his coffee with a stoic expression while I sat there, stunned. “We messed around, fooled around, all that jazz.” He then looked up at me with eyes full of regret. So, he was sorry and he came here for an apology because he knew Kayla was my best friend and he had hurt her. It had nothing to do with me or us together, like I had always imagined. I could feel my heart breaking a little as I tried to compose myself as best as I could, considering the situation.

 “Why?” I asked, feeling a bit angry that he would use my best friend like he always did, reverting back to his player ways.

 “I was drunk!”

“That’s no excuse,” I finished my coffee even though it scalded my throat and stood up to leave. He grabbed my arm.

 “We’re not done talking yet.”

“What’s there to talk about? Do you know that right now, she’s probably head-over-heels for you? I’m the one that has to break the news to her and comfort her because of your mistakes. I’m sick of this.”

 “Aren’t you being a little over-dramatic?”

 “No, I just thought you felt something for once.” The look upon his face told me that he knew what really had happened. He had to, but he was ignoring it blatantly like it was the paparazzi.

“I’m leaving.” I then remembered that he had drove us here as soon as I left and of course, it had started raining.

 “Alex, you don’t have to act this way. It was an accident. Please, forgive me.” He had followed me out and left his coffee to sit, and I was briefly touched by how he seemed to care, even if it wasn’t in the way I truly desired. “Don’t you dare try to walk home either in this weather.”

“Fine. But, I don’t want to listen to your crappy music or talk about this anymore. This case is sealed until I can forgive you,” I responded, a bit too coldly for my liking, but I was peeved beyond words.

“It’s a deal,” he said, and he drove me home in complete silence while I sat, looking at the window, holding my tears in as best as I possibly could.