The Night We Met

VIII

Roslyn

Harry called me approximately two and a half days after we had dinner together. 

I'll admit I was starting to think he wouldn't call at all, but he proved me wrong. My heart fluttered when I saw his name on my phone. I suppose I also could have reached out to him first but considering he asked to call me, I assumed he would make the first move. And surely, he didn't let me down.

"What are you so smiley about?" my coworker and friend, Pahula, asks me. She looks at me as she rests both of her elbows on the desk in front of her. 

I sigh and lean back in my chair, staring dreamily at her. I feel like I've been on this high since I reconnected with Harry. Now that I know he is definitely interested, and it has finally sunk in that this is reality and not some made-up fantasy I created in my head, my whole energy has shifted. I think I might be lost in dreamland in the best way possible. 

"Nothing..." I lie, not wanting to expose whatever Harry and I have going on. 

We're not dating, at least not officially I don't think. We slept together once and went on one date, soon to be another. When Harry called yesterday, he asked if I would be interested in going to a concert with him tonight. He was very vague about who was playing and where it was, but naturally, I obliged. I find I'm always up for a little adventure with him. He brings that out in me and breaks me out of my introverted shell. 

Pahula looks at me as if I am an idiot. Her brown eyes bore into mine and she raises an eyebrow. 

"No reason? You've had that same dazed expression on your face for the past couple of days. I refuse to believe it's for 'no reason'," Pahula presses. I sigh and adjust myself in my seat, trying to wipe whatever look is on my face off. "Is it a boy?" she suddenly asks, her eyes growing wide. "Or a girl or person...I don't know who you're into..."

I open my mouth to tell her there's no one in my life like that but I can't seem to think of a lie quick enough. My mouth hangs open and my brain buffers. Pahula must notice this because a smug look grows on her face. 

"I get it," she says. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Relationships are rough." 

I roll my eyes and shake my head. 

"Not a relationship," I mutter, turning back to my work. 

I shuffle through the pile of papers in front of me, not knowing entirely what I'm doing. I'm just trying to act busy so Pahula can stop asking questions. I don't mind sharing details about my life but this involves a very specific person who happens to be extremely private and closed off. I can't break that trust. And even if Harry was open to publicly discussing whatever our relationship is, I'm not ready to talk about it for my own personal sake. 

"Well, I'm all ears when you're ready to spill," Pahula says, turning back to her work. I glance over at her and give her a smile, showing my appreciation for her dropping the subject. She smiles back, understanding that there must be a reason I'm not gossiping about my personal life. I tell her nearly everything since we're fairly close so she must understand that when I leave something out it must be for good reason.

Work is fairly busy for the rest of the day. We have an influx of patients come in, more than usual since Rachel has us triple-booking spots for some reason. I'm not sure why she thinks that's a good idea considering all the complaints we get but I have to follow orders. 

By the end of the day, I'm tired. I could easily go to sleep but the excitement of seeing Harry again fuels me with enough energy to make it home, even while stuck in Los Angeles traffic. Traffic has the uncanny ability to completely wipe me out but I feel strangely awake as I park my car in a spot right outside of my apartment complex.