I exhale sharply, shifting onto my side. The clock on the nightstand glows past midnight. I should just shut my eyes and let it go. But I don’t.
Instead, I reach for my phone.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I’m not even sure what I want to say, but the urge to talk to her is stronger than the voicein my head telling me to just go to sleep. So, I go for something simple.
Me: Just wanted to say good night.
I hit Send, then drop the phone on my chest. The screen glows against the dark, and I stare at it, waiting.
Three dots appear almost instantly.
I smirk. Good, she’s awake.
Tabby: It’s late. You should be sleeping.
I huff a quiet laugh, fingers already moving.
Me: I would be if you weren’t in my head.
Tabby: That so?
Me: Hard to sleep when I can still hear you laughing. Still feel you next to me.
There’s a pause. Long enough that I start wondering if I went too far. But then …
Tabby: Good to know I left an impression.
I grin.
Me: You have no idea.
She doesn’t answer right away, and my heart starts doing this stupid, restless thing in my chest. I tap my fingers against my stomach, waiting.
Then, her name pops up again.
Tabby: You’re lying in bed, thinking about me, huh?
Me: Yeah.
Tabby: What exactly are you thinking about?
The shift is subtle but unmistakable. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, heat spreading through my chest, my gut.
I lick my lips, debating for half a second before deciding there’s no point in playing coy.
Me: How soft your skin looked in the sun today. How it would feel under my hands.
I send it before I can second-guess myself. The dots appear immediately.
Tabby: Go on.
I groan. Those two words sending a rush of something sharp and electric through me.
Me: Your turn. If I was next to you right now, what would you do?
She takes longer to answer this time. I stare at the screen, my pulse drumming in my ears. When her reply finally comes, my breath catches.
Tabby: I don’t know. I might have to see what all that talk was about.