A New Reflection

26. Text Message

I awake the following morning with no physical side effects other than slight dryness of the mouth and a lingering thrill that tingles throughout my body. Krista is seated on the edge of her bed, tying her running shoes, and she glances up at me when she notices my eyes are open.

"Hey, you! You got in late. Fun night?" Her husky voice emanates carefree enthusiasm.

"Yeah," I croak out, my throat scratchy. "We were celebrating a friend's birthday."

"I thought you didn't drink," she comments, her lips upturning in amusement, as if she is proud of me. "Was that your first time?"

I shift in my bed, uneasy. How does she know I drank last night?

"Um, yeah, that was the first. Did I disturb you coming in?" My voice is small and tentative.

"No," she chuckles. "I just heard you and your friends talking outside in the hall, and it was obvious guys had been partying. Did you have fun?" She squints her curious eyes in a slight expression of mischief.

I release a giggle. "Yeah."

"Good for you! You'll have to come with us next time we go out."

I gulp. The thought of partying with Krista and the crew intimidates me; at the same time, I'm pleased by the invitation.

After showering and downing an entire bottle of water, I head to breakfast. I cross paths with Joshua on the way, and he engages me in almost the same generic manner he always does, except there's a subtle layer of shyness hanging in his features.

I'm uncertain how the conversation unfolds, but we agree to go running together later that afternoon.

After leaving the Bon, I decide to take a walk to process last night's events before beginning my Spanish essay. There is a beautiful cemetery a half-mile from campus. As I stroll the steep paths, passing marbled grey and beige tombstones, I'm bursting with feelings so vibrant it almost seems inappropriate to remain in this setting.

An elderly man catches my eye and engages me as I jaunt past him.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?"

Strangers obliging me to participate in small-talk is one of my greatest fears, but today, I look at the man straight in the face with glittering eyes.

"It's so lovely," I return.

I climb the steepest incline as dry pine needles twirl from the trees above and rain into my hair. The sun sears into me as I reach the top, out of breath, taking in the sight of rich grassy glades rippling in every direction and a sliver of the cloud-speckled city on the horizon. I stop in the middle of the pathway to peck out a cringy poem on the Notes app of my phone, feeling inspired.

Slipping my cell phone into my back pocket, an unexpected notion bubbles up inside me. I'm possessed by the urge to text Alex. An absurd sense of boldness overtakes me, and I can picture myself acting out the fantasy in real life. I could actually do this.

I play it out in my mind for twenty minutes or so, following the ribbon of cream cement through the park. Every so often, I pass people who are in the cemetery for its designated use; I ponder whether strolling through this space—for exercise, contemplating the beauty of nature and fantasizing about my crushes—is sacrilegious or simply an exquisite participation in life's paradoxes.

My heart is pounding in my chest by the time I reach my dorm room, because I already know what I'm about to do, despite my own better judgment.

Hey Alex. I was thinking about you. Hope your trip to Costa Rica went smoothly, and I hope your brother is doing alright.