A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
❝She was too busy wishing on shooting stars to see the dreams come true around her.❞
03
CALLING 呼び出し
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. . .
The snippet remained unopened in my bedside table drawer for the rest of the day.
Although I registered the number in my contacts to satisfy my paranoia of possibly losing the snippet, I couldn't throw it away.
If I met him the next day without showing a sign of seeing the paper, then I'd seem ignorant. And if I did use the paper... I had no idea what was awaiting me. Blake gave me his number because he wanted me to call him, and I had no reason to not. Unless he was a man who merely wanted to play around.
I clicked on his contact in my phonebook. My finger spent a good minute hovering over the call button until I jumped on my bed and pressed it unintentionally.
I panicked. What would I say? Should I comment on the fact he gave his phone number to my co-worker or let it slide? Would letting things flow, like I usually do, work?
He picked up after the third ring. "Hello," he greeted. "Who am I talking to?"
Silence settled in the line, making me even more nervous with every passing second. I played with the hem of my shirt mindlessly. I gulped. I truly never imagined myself being like that over a man.
Get it together, Cassandra.
"Hello?" he spoke again.
"It's Cassandra," I said shortly.
"Oh, it's you... you actually called," he replied with a tone dripping confidence.
"Isn't that why you left the paper, Blake?" I snickered, albeit knowing he couldn't see me. "Cliché. We could've exchanged numbers instead of that."
"I just wanted to save us the awkwardness in case you said no."
A moment of silence passed with my mind overloaded with thoughts. Why would he even want to give me his number? Either way, I wasn't going to deny my excitement of being able to talk to him more outside the work frame.
"Imagine, after about a week of only stealing glances of a person, you're on a call with them now," he cut through the silence with such brave words.
"Hey! Did I annoy you that much?" I defended.
He giggled. "I was actually talking about myself..."
"Oh..." My face scrunched up in embarrassment. I was glad he couldn't see.
"But good to know you did it too."
I was thankful he couldn't see my blush over the phone, too.
"Blake..." I cooed.
I heard him let out a breath. "Cassandra?"
"Why do you always order a bland coffee?" Only after I had blurted the word, I realised it could have come off as rude. "I-I don't mean it's bad... just curious," I tried to fix my mistake.
I heard him sigh. "It's something I got used to from spending so much time with a black coffee lover. No significant reason, really. In fact, I wouldn't mind changing the habit someday."
"Have you ever tried something different? Something more... morning-friendly?" I suggested.
"I'm embarrassed to say no." He said with a little laugh.
