Chapter 4: The Midnight Strike“So have you texted him yet?” demanded Trinity.
I fumbled with the edge of my bedspread, my fingers curling around the rich, green sheet with a sudden tautness as I dawdled along for a delay of answer.
“Well?” Trinity was obviously not going to be patient.
“Er—”
“You haven't.”
I imagined myself hanging the phone up. How easy it could be. “No…not yet,” I admitted.
I heard Trinity sigh on the other end. “Oh, Lacey. Why did I give you his number in the first place?”
I groaned and flopped onto my back, staring up at the plastic neon stars on the ceiling—my lights in the dark.
“What should I say to him?” I asked. “How should I start a conversation?”
“Just be like, 'Hey, Christian, what's up? It's me, Lacey, from the party last Friday.' As simple as that.”
