Free In the Wake of Wanting by Lori L. Otto Page B

know I don’t want to have a different partner.
    “Yes, Coley. You need to tone it down a bit. Maybe shift more to what we talked about Monday. Can you focus on the conversation about how I got into writing? You seemed genuinely interested in that.”
    “I think so. You were so vulnerable when you told me the story about that girl who died–Anabel, was it? I could feel your pain, Trey, and I just wanted you to let me hold you.”
    “Okay, that’s a start. Talk about how well I communicated my feelings in my blog post. Don’t talk about how you wanted to hold me. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
    “Yeah,” she says, then sighs. She closes her laptop and looks at me. “I’m sorry about this, Trey.”
    “Don’t be sorry. Let’s just get it done.”
    “I’ll write it this evening. I’ll have it ready for you to edit tomorrow after my classes. Maybe we can do a screen-share and chat editing session or something.”
    “That sounds good. Can I trust you with my number?” I ask her. “Just use it for school stuff, okay? And don’t give it to anyone.”
    “Of course,” she says, pulling out her phone and programming my number in. She dials it until my phone rings to make sure she input it correctly. “I think I’ll just head back to my dorm for lunch. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” She looks at the pages I still hold in my hand. I have no intention of giving them back, and she makes no movement to take them. We smile at each other.
    “Good luck,” I tell her as she begins to walk away.
    “Thanks.” She turns and briefly waves. I continue to watch her until I can’t see her anymore. I stay at the table a little bit longer, the smooth legs revealed by her ridiculous, weather-inappropriate skirt requiring the extra time for recovery.
    I want to know this girl –inside and out.
    Her .
    And there’s something about Her that makes Her the only Her I want to know like that anymore. Like she could be the Her to end the search for all other Hers ; the search for Her I didn’t know was ongoing.
    I decide to return to my apartment over the next break instead of meeting up with Asher like I’d planned. I don’t eat, but instead sate the other hunger I’d built up this morning, pulling out a picture of Zaina to make the job easy. I feel a lot less guilt when I’m done.
    Before I go to my afternoon classes, I lock up Coley’s poems in the safe my dad insisted on buying me. It’s not to protect them . It’s to protect me from the damage they could do.

chapter six
     
    Her touch on my leg is different than anything I’ve felt before. Zaina’s never touched me like this. Her fingers play a quick and even rhythm, fast like a hummingbird, sliding gently to one side until the feeling’s gone. Faintly, I still feel the vibrations against the couch. I pick up her hand to move it back to my leg to continue the erotic sensation.
    That’s not a hand. It’s hard and rectangular.
    That’s my phone .
    I open my eyes and answer the call quickly. It may not be her hand, but the phone says it’s Her .
    “Hell–” I have to clear my throat to make sound come out. “Hello?”
    “Trey?”
    “Yeah,” I say as I stretch, making the word sound drawn out.
    “Did I wake you up?”
    “Hmmm? No, no,” I assure her.
    “It’s Coley.”
    “The laureate,” I tease her. She laughs. “What’s up?”
    “Do you have time to get online and look at my article?”
    “Definitely.” I look at the clock on my phone, noticing it’s eleven-forty-five. “You are a night owl,” I comment. “Have you been at Ruvelyn’s all this time?”
    “They closed at ten, and then I came back to my dorm,” she says. “But I had this done last night. I’ve just been procrastinating. I was too nervous to call you. My roommate finally made me do a few shots.”
    “So you’re a drunk laureate now?”
    “Just relaxed,” she says. “Relaxed enough to make the call and accept your criticism. But for the record, I don’t