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Authors: Alice Severin
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that easily. Alice kept giving me dirty looks every time she started to ask me about it and I would shut her down, and walk away. I didn’t want to talk about it. Letting go like that…I thought of crying in the cab, sitting by the door, holding the bag. It was stupid really. Silly. I wasn’t a teenage groupie, never had been. I had a job, didn’t own any four inch heels, like Alice did, or see-through tops. The last guy I’d gone out with had taken me out for a couple of nice meals, after getting over the shock that I wouldn’t sleep with him after the first one, then told me I was too complicated, and he liked 20 year olds because they were more flexible…with their time. I didn’t feel like being made a fool of, again.
    So I went out that night for a drink in a club that was breaking new bands, chatted to the manager, made plans to come back and see “Worms”, or “Bugs”, whatever the name was, for my piece following the start up of different bands. It was something I’d been working on for a while—thought it might make a good book. And maybe I’ll get to see some of these people before the system works them over, I thought. Then I walked all the way home, only looked at the phone once, and looked forward to getting into bed, and not thinking about anything for at least a few hours.
    But I woke up in the middle of the night. Something had made a noise. I groaned and fell back on the pillows. My head was starting to hurt. I grabbed the bottle of water by the side of my bed. It was cool and it felt good to drink. So thirsty. I grabbed some aspirin, and swallowed that down too. What time was it? I rolled over onto the other side of the bed and grabbed my phone. It was flashing. There was a text. I felt my heart rate increase as I opened it. Yes, that’s what had woken me up, sent 4 minutes ago at 2:21am. From “unreal”, the name I’d saved the last text under. I sat up as I read it.
    Aren’t you going to call? I’m serious.
    Serious. That was a strange word to use. But maybe he knew I didn’t believe it was him, or that he would want to see me. The frightened part of my mind said to wait until tomorrow, wait until I could think it all through clearly, and have a rational answer in the daytime. And then there was a reckless side that didn’t care about rational, or correct. Sense was getting yelled down by the need to start this. Whatever this was. I needed to know. I needed to find out what I wanted. I put down the bottle, and I texted back.
    Some people sleep. But yes I was.
    I pressed send before I could rethink it.
    A minute passed. I put the phone down and was about to get under the covers when it beeped. I grabbed it.
    Obviously neither of us is sleeping. I want to see you.
    Well, that was quick and to the point. I tried to rearrange my mind in a way that I could play it cool. It wasn’t working.
    Yes. When?
    The reply came faster now.
    Now. Or in half an hour.
    Now? But I had to shower, fix up…no. It was better this way. No time to think about anything. Still, I couldn’t resist teasing him. Just say yes, you idiot, my heart cried out. But I was already texting.
    Do you always get what you want?
    The answer came back almost instantly.
    Mostly. Tell me your address and I’ll meet you in the car.
    My body felt like it was going to explode. Was I actually going to do this? See him? I was grateful now for the buzz which still lingered in my head and was calming me down, just enough.
    I texted him my address. That alone was breaking some rules. His text came back almost immediately.
    Meet me at the corner of 93th and Central Park West. At 3.
    I could only answer yes.
    I rushed to the bathroom and quickly washed and brushed my teeth. I threw on some scented body cream and rushed to pick out clothes. 2:45. I didn’t have much time. I couldn’t over think it, which was probably a good thing. Jeans, a low necked t shirt, boots. Some lipstick. More perfume. 2:51. Time to go. I emptied my bag of

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