Tangerine Orange - Patrick Zweig
2:25 for reference
You came home exhausted from work, barely having time to grab some Chinese takeout to eat at home.
Scrolling through your screen, the red dot on the phone app catching your attention and you set your chopsticks down, distracting yourself with that instead of continuing to pick at the overcooked broccoli.
Voicemail...
Who used voicemail these days?
You clicked on the panel to play the message, maybe a store you added to your contacts after they offered you a discount for being a new customer. But no—
It was him.
Patrick.
The sound of a fan whirring in the background and his hand wobbling with the phone, he cleared his throat after a blow.
His voice makes you lean forward, like it’s been that long since you’ve heard it.
Smoking, yeah he was smoking, you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the last one from the packet.
Thinking maybe he would just stay silent but
“Uh, hey baby,” his voice croaks, like he just woke up from a nap he didn’t want to take, there’s a sweetness to it somehow, like honey, just as heavy too.
Like he didn’t need a beer or two to actually dial your number.
“Um, I know I keep asking this,”
-
“Um, but I guess I just really wanna know at this point”
“You know, we've been intimate for a while;” he continues, his voice almost a whisper now, like the weight of what he’s about to say matters too much to speak too loudly. “Been crushing on each other for years…” The words linger in the air, like he’s actually waiting for you to respond.
-
“But I guess I'd just really like to know if; you feel the same way about me as I feel about you” The shift of his body, the subtle creak of the bed as he adjusts.
-
“You know all your feelings for me inside of your heart,” he laughs slightly, and god you could just picture him biting his lip with that specific smirk he does when he serves.
“Let me know, bye.”
-Press 1 to listen to the message again-
Click! Click! Click!
