Inspired by a Melody is a monthly feature. We use different songs as inspiration.
The phone rang. Don’t people sleep in on Sunday?
Fiona picked up her cell and glanced at the screen before silencing the generic ringtone she’d assigned to non-contact numbers. Placing it back on the headboard, she glared at her alarm clock, staring at her–unblinking–from across the room. She had to move her clock after hitting snooze enough times she was late for work.
What are you waiting for?
She should get out of bed and actually do something. Like clean her apartment. Or portion out her food for the week. So she didn’t eat the entire bag of veggie chips in one sitting…or the hummus with the pound of baby carrots. Hell, there was even laundry to do.
What are you waiting for?
But her bed was warm and cozy. The silky cotton sheets brushed against her skin in a comforting way. And really, all that stuff would be waiting for her when she woke up in a few hours.
Beep. A voicemail. She sighed. Probably some sales call. She decided to listen to it–enough to get the icon cleared from her phone, anyway.
“Yes. Fiona. You don’t know me, but we have several mutual friends that have passed along your number. I’m not one to believe in fate and all that malarky, but it seems like something has been destined to toss us together. I’m actually glad you seem to screen your calls because I don’t know whether I’d have gotten all this out without sounding batshit crazy. Oh, there, I’ve done it. I said batshit when I’m trying to impress someone. Well, anyway, I’ll be at the Starbucks on the corner of Seventh and Main at three o’clock if you’d like to meet up. I’ll be wearing a Michigan sweatshirt–sure hope you’re not a State fan. What are you waiting for? Give a guy a chance.”
Well, hell. He didn’t even leave his name. She couldn’t text around to find out who had given out her number. And beat them to a pulp.
All her friends knew she wasn’t up for dating. She’d gotten out of a relationship six months earlier and the break-up hadn’t gone well. At least for her. Todd had been cheating on her while they lived together, and she’d decided–upon finding out–that she wasn’t going to put up with it. She’d stayed on Sarah’s couch for two weeks while she found her apartment and got her affairs in order–sans Todd.
It must be Sarah. She’d said she had a friend who would be perfect for her. On more than one occasion.
Or maybe it was Robby. He also mentioned a great rebound guy for her. Although, she didn’t know what kind of friend Robby really was to set her up with someone intending for it to not last.
Two days ago Margot had started to talk about a guy–but stopped because Fiona had given her the look. Shit. Maybe they were all in it together. A fucking conspiracy.
Fi: I just received a voicemail from a guy that will be wearing a Michigan sweatshirt at Starbucks at 3pm. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?
Mar: He called? Really? I didn’t think he would.
Sarah: Wait, you gave her number out, Margot?
Mar: Yeah. Why?
Sarah: I did, too. Fi, forgive me, but you really need to get back out there.
Rob: Um. I did, too. And there’s a good chance my guy will be wearing a Michigan sweatshirt because he’s a fucking diehard Wolverine.
Fi: Anyone willing to cough up names?
Three rapid-fire texts come in, one each from Margot, Sarah, and Robby. All delivering the same name.
Her three friends continued conversing in the group text about how they all knew Wyatt, but Fiona put her phone down and ignored them. What are you waiting for? She had chores to accomplish.
And a guy to meet at three.
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