Frank sits in his living room, his dog Sweet Pea curled up on his lap. He absently runs a hand through her wiry fur as he contemplates the number in front of him. He knows that the boy with the long black hair had left it rather than his friend; he’d obviously had an interest in Frank.
712-482-9637. G. What could G mean? Is the guy a pimp or something? Part of Frank doesn’t want to know. But…. That guy is super cute. And Frank does find him rather sweet. And Frank is single…..
Frank, without thinking, dials the number. He holds the phone up to his ear, his hand shaking slightly. It rings, and rings, and rings, until Frank heard the boy’s voicemail.
“Hi this is Gerard. I can’t answer, so kindly fuck off unless it’s important.”
Frank chuckles softly at the voice message, which is, whatever way you look at it, quite rude.
The beep sounds, and Frank doesn’t know what to do. He wants to hang up the phone, but some nerve in him tells him not to. Some nerve in him tells him to leave a message.
“Hi…. Um…. This is Frank? From the coffee shop? And thanks for the number, and… if-if you would want to go out sometime, that’d be great. Call me back and we can set up a time. Bye.”
Frank is then able to go to bed, with his dog snoring soundly beside him.