Because You're Different ✔

50. Talk

Nathan

Rain was flooding down the large windows of my office. I should've been able to hear the drops crash against the glass, but the only audible thing was the voice of one of my colleagues, droning on and on about a hockey game his daughter had played last night. It would've been fine if he didn't talk about the girl like she was an asset, something that could gain him some profit.

I was pretending to be listening, while in reality, I was trying to guess how many times I'd been dripping wet since I moved to London. The number must be higher than twenty by now. Wonder if it was raining back in Palo Alto. Probably not. Wonder if June and Sam were asleep, or if she was still awake, working on her coding, or on another poem. Or maybe Charlotte had interpreted it correctly after all, and she was with that guy, and that's why she didn't feel the need to call me anymore. I supposed I should be happy for her if that were the case, but if I was honest with myself, the idea was like a direct punch to the stomach. Being replaced by some football kid... Figures. It didn't sound like her.

Just when I was afraid I'd never get rid of this ass, my phone rang, loud and urgent, cutting right through his speech. Holding back a relieved sigh, I picked the thing up, putting on my serious face. "Sorry, have to take this."

His jaw clenched, like he actually thought a children's hockey game was more important than anyone wanting to talk to me. For a brief moment, I was afraid he wasn't going to leave, then, he marched away. Finally.

No idea who was calling me, but whoever it was, I could kiss them right now.

"Good morning. Rutherford and Addington, Nathan Redstone speaking. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Nathan. I do still remember your name, you know."

"June!"

Immediately, I sat up in my chair, a smile slowly unfolding on my face. She was calling me. She was calling me herself — she did still want to talk to me. I ran my hands through my hair, searching for the right words to say, something funny, something that'd make her laugh, but my mind was racing that hard that I couldn't come up with anything. "Thank god you called me," I said. "You just saved me from this very obnoxious guy."

"Obnoxious? You're starting to sound like Charlotte."

There was something strange about her voice — or well, something different than usual. Had she been crying? Or was it something else? I didn't want her to hang up on me again, not like all the previous times. I had to say something to hold her attention, maybe even try to let her spill what was going on with her.

"I don't even notice anymore," I said quickly. "Good I have you to remind me. Wait, isn't it the middle of the night there right now?" My laptop said ten am, and it was eight hours earlier back in California. It wasn't a strange time for her to be up on a Friday: she was a night owl, after all. What was strange, was that she'd contacted me, without even texting me first. It wasn't like her. What was going on?

"Yeah... two am. I just got back from a party. I'm a little drunk, and I had a shitty day, so... just wanted to hear your voice."

For a second, I reveled in the fact that it was me she wanted to hear when she was down, and not some football kid, until I realized I wasn't supposed to be grinning at her telling me she was feeling down. "Are you okay, June?"

"Not really, but it's no big deal. Just a bad day. You know."

"Yeah, I had a feeling today was going to be just as bad."

"Not anymore?"

"Of course not. I'm talking to you."

A sharp breath, and for a while, she was so quiet I even glanced at the phone screen to check if we'd been disconnected. "I miss you," she said then.