“You aren’t sure if I woke you or of what time it is?”
“Both.”
Her sweet giggles filter into my ear, and I hold the phone out so I can check the time.
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask, placing the phone back to my ear.
“I was hanging out with the girls.”
“Oh, yeah? What was on the agenda tonight?”
“Boy talk, junk food, and now drunk dialing.”
“Mmmm. Sounds fun.”
“It was, but now that I’m in bed, I’m fading fast.” She yawns. “Is the offer to come up tomorrow still good?”
“Yeah, of course. I checked the weather it’s supposed to be really nice and—” I’m about to add to the list of reasons she should come, but she interrupts me.
“You should send me a picture?”
“Uh, what?”
“A picture.”
“A picture of what?” I play back our conversation in my head. “The golf course?”
“Of you. Duh. What do you sleep in?”
I’m smiling as I answer, “Boxers, sometimes shorts or sweats.”
“No shirt?”
“Not usually, no. Why?”
“I knew it!” she shouts, and I pull the phone from my ear for a second.
“What did you know?” Following this conversation is hard, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m half asleep or because she’s tipsy. Either way, I like that it’s me she’s drunk dialing.
“The night at the hotel you slept with your T-shirt on. I got totally cheated. Show me.”
“I’m not taking a picture of my chest.”
“You’re no fun.”
I try to picture her on the other end of the phone. Smiling and face flushed from alcohol.
“What time will you be here?”
She yawns again. “We don’t have formal practice tomorrow. I just need to get in eighteen holes with my group. We’re meeting at eight. I’ll call you on my way up.”
“I was thinking, can you stay the night and go back Saturday morning?”
“Like stay at your place?” Her voice slows and the pitch goes up at the end of her question.
“Or I can get you a room at a hotel if you’re more comfortable. I’d like to take you to the game, but it might be kind of late by the time we get back.”
She’s quiet for a second, and I wonder if she’s trying to find a nice way to turn me down or maybe she passed out.