in which a boy boredly calls a random number at 11:11pm every night, not expecting to meet a sarcastic girl just a year older than him.
✎ The Rose Awards winner - short story ✎
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"Hello?"
"Lila?"
"Cal? Are you crying? What's wrong? What happened?"
"Cal underscore King. Check my instagram."
"Cal, I-"
"I don't have any pictures of myself on there. I'm too ugly to take pictures of myself."
"Cal, I'm sure you're not ugly."
"You haven't even seen me, Lila. You can't say that."
"Okay, I'm on your Instagram, what do I do?"
"My most recent post. Read the comments and tell me if I'm being a pussy."
"I doubt you are, Cal."
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"Oh my gosh, Cal."
"I'm a pussy, aren't I? Why... why do they say these things, Lila? What did I do? I'm not gay, so why do they still use it as an insult?"
"They're bastards, Cal. They're scum of the earth. They bully people to mask their own insecurities. You're better than them, you're smarter than them, you're better looking than them, you're more of a man than they'll ever be. They're shitheads, and I'd punch them in the throat if I could."
"You're just saying that."
"No I'm not. And I'll prove it to you."
"H-How?"
"First, I need you to stop crying. I'm here. Ignore them."
