6. CHAPTER SIX
1197 Words
He was lying back on what looked like a hotel bed, one arm behind his head, still in his dark shirt. The lamp beside him was dim. He looked different without the café between them. Closer somehow. More real.
"You look tired," he said when her face appeared on screen.
"It's 1 AM, Chris and you're still awake." She said.
"So are you." He countered.
He smiled. Fully this time. Not the almost-smile she'd been collecting. A real one.
It was unfair, honestly. How good he looked when he actually smiled.
"Where are you staying?" she asked, nodding at the background behind him.
"Small hotel off the city centre. I'm in Belfast for another two weeks before we head to Galway."
"For the band?" Irene asked.
"Recording session. Then a show." He paused. "You could come. To the show."
Irene raised an eyebrow. "Is that a date?"
"No," he said. "That's a bonus. The date is next Saturday."
"You haven't actually asked me." She said.
He looked at her through the screen for a moment.
"Irene," he said.
"Yes?" She replied.
"Saturday. Dinner. You and me, please?"
She pressed her lips together to keep the smile from taking over her entire face.
"What time?" she asked.
"Seven."
"Where?"
"Let me handle that."
"I don't like surprises."
"You'll like this one."
She looked at him for a long moment.
He looked back. Patient. Certain. Like he already knew.
"Fine," she said quietly.
"Fine," he repeated. And smiled again.
She finally said goodnight at half past one. He replied "sleep well".
After she hung up, she lay there in the dark, phone resting on her chest, staring at the ceiling with what she could only describe as an embarrassingly warm feeling spreading through her whole body.
Saturday.
She had a date on Saturday.
With a man who asked about her favourite time of day and listened to the answer. Who said thank you for telling me that instead of I'm sorry. Who called because she typed too slowly and stayed on the line for two hours like he had nowhere else to be.
You're in trouble, she thought again.
Deeper this time.
June found out on the next day which was Sunday.
Irene made the mistake of picking up her phone mid-scroll while they were on a video call.
"Wait—" June leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "Are you SMILING at your phone?"
Irene: No.
June: b***h, you are GLOWING!
Irene: I'm not.
June: IS THAT HIM? Are you texting him RIGHT NOW?
Irene: June—
June: READ IT TO ME.
Irene: Absolutely not—"
June: IRENE I WILL DRIVE TO BELFAST—
"You live in Newry, June!"
"AND I WILL DRIVE EVERY MILE OF IT, DON'T TEST ME!" June shouted.
Irene laughed so hard she had to put the phone down.
When she picked it back up, June was gripping her own face dramatically, vibrating with barely contained energy.
"Just tell me one thing," June said, pointing at the screen. "One thing. Is he taking you out or not?"
Irene hesitated.
"…He mentioned Saturday," she admitted quietly.
June's mouth fell open.
Then she stood up.
Fully stood up off her couch.
"HE'S TAKING YOU ON A DATE?!"
"He hasn't officially—"
"SATURDAY! That's next week! Irene we need to talk about what you're wearing, what you're doing with your hair, whether you're doing the natural makeup or the—"
"June. Breathe."
"I AM BREATHING, I'M ALSO PLANNING—"
"June."
She stopped. Took an actual breath.
Then softly, with a sincerity that always caught Irene off guard after all the noise —
"You deserve this, you know. Someone who notices you."
Irene looked at her.
Didn't say anything for a moment.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Maybe."
June pointed at the screen one final time.
"Saturday, Irene. Don't you dare cancel."
She didn't plan to.
For the first time in a long time…
She actually didn't want to.
June was still mid-sentence about eyeshadow palettes when Irene's phone buzzed.
A notification banner dropped down from the top of the screen.
It was from Chris.
Irene's eyes flickered to it for just a second.
A second was all June needed.
"WAIT." June froze. "Is that him?"
"No—"
"IRENE YOUR FACE JUST DID A THING—"
"June I have to go—"
"YOU ARE HANGING UP ON ME FOR HIM?!"
"Later June—"
"IRENE DON'T YOU DARE—"
She hung up.
Immediately felt zero guilt about it.
She switched over to his message.
Chris: You're beautiful by the way. I don't think I said that yet.
Irene stared at it. "Well that's random" she said softly.
Read it again.
Then once more just to be sure.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, Sunday laundry folded in a neat pile beside her, half a movie paused on her laptop, and somehow this man had managed to make her entire flat feel warmer with eight words.
She typed back slowly.
Irene: You're saying that because you can't see me right now. I'm in a old hoodie and my hair is a mess.
Chris: I've seen you a number of times already. I know exactly what I'm saying.
She pressed her lips together.
Put the phone down.
Picked it back up.
Irene: Smooth.
Chris: How's your evening going?
Irene: I was on a call with a friend. Then I was going to watch a movie. Just finished laundry so.
Chris: Exciting Sunday.
Irene: What are you doing?
Chris: Thinking about you actually.
Irene exhaled slowly through her nose.
Irene: You can't just say things like that.
Chris: Why not?
Irene: Because it's— *She stopped. Deleted it. Started again*. "Because normal people don't just say that."
Chris: I'm not trying to be normal. I'm trying to be honest.
She put the phone face down on the bed.
Lay back against her pillow.
Picked it back up.
Irene: What movie should I watch then since you're so full of opinions.
Chris: Something with a good ending.
Irene: That's not helpful.
Chris: Just put something on and call me on FaceTime.
She blinked at the screen.
Irene: You want to watch a movie with me? Over the phone?
Chris: Why not?
Irene: We're not even in the same place.
Chris: Doesn't matter.
It shouldn't have worked. It was impractical and slightly ridiculous and she was absolutely overthinking it.
She called him anyway.
He picked up on the second ring.
"What are we watching?" he asked. No preamble.
"I don't know yet." She propped the phone against her pillow and turned her laptop to show the screen.
They settled on something neither of them had seen. A thriller with too many plot twists and not enough logic. She made fun of it. He laughed at everything she said. At some point she forgot she was supposed to be watching the film at all because she got carried away by him.
By the time the credits rolled she was lying on her side, phone up close, voice low the way it gets late at night when the world feels smaller.
"Chris," she said.
"Mm?" He muttered...
- Writer
