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Talk to me by YakekponoAbasi Adams

His voice. Oh, his voice. A light, husky voice. The only voice that sent shivers down her spine. The way he connected with her. From a distance, they shared so much together. She had read stories of these kind of situations, but she never saw it coming. No, she never believed them. Fiction, she thought they were fiction.

They had been friends on Facebook for about 3 months. He wasn’t the type to flood her inbox with messages, or vice-versa. However, every once in a while, she would steal a look at his pictures, but she was careful enough not to overly click the ‘like’ button. She loved attention, but not the type that screamed ‘stalker’.

Their chats were consistent. The chemistry was great. She had always wondered if he would never ask for her phone number. Finally, he did. A smile escaped her lips; she was glad. But, being the lady she was, she played around a little before giving it to him. She didn’t want to appear easy or cheap.

She could still remember the first time she heard his voice. That first phone call she received from him; it was a night she’d never forget – 23 rd October, 08:29pm. The last thing she needed then, was a distraction. Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we wish for. The first word he spoke was ‘hello’.

Her heart melted. She smiled sheepishly, then brushed it off, embarrassed, as if he had seen her. She had received calls from other guys who uttered the same word. But, she had never heard anything like this. This was different. It was the way he said it. The way his voice rose when he said ‘he..’, before moderating it to say ‘…llo’. It happened so fast, but she was able to record it all in her mind. There and then, she realized that was a voice she would go an extra mile to hear.

She was not the type to discuss guys with her friends. Even if she were, she doubted if she would love to relish this delicious information to her friends. They would clamor and want to hear his voice too. She didn’t want to share this, not even with her best friend. The thought that she was jealous over something which wasn’t hers infuriated her.

Subsequent calls followed; they usually spoke for long intervals. His voice soothed her. It gave her a calm, she had never experienced. Though they chatted, it was different when she actually got to hear his voice. Everything happened so fast. They had never met, but their connection was out of this world. Little things such as his breaths, even affected her. It was crazy.

The conversations became deeper. Her favorite question of his was ‘how are you feeling?’ She always had to think before answering. he never took monosyllables as answers. He was a man of words; words were him. He always loved an indepth analysis of any situation. He played with words; he birthed words. How he did it, she will never know. she danced to his words; sweet music.

He belonged to the class of people she was scared of; those ones that made you addicted to them. That class of people that you always want to be around. The people that could make you happy this minute, make you sad the next, and immediately say something to make you smile. That person you cannot stay mad at, was him.

When they spoke on phone, it was as if he was right beside her. Imagine her relief when he said he felt the same way too. It sent thrilling emotions through her body. She could feel her eyes aimlessly roaming all over her. She didn’t know what it was. All that mattered was that she was happy. He made her happy. He gave her good bouts of laughter.

This guy was trouble, she knew. She didn’t need anyone to tell her. Sometimes, she would just fantasize the movement of his lips to pronounce those words. He had thick lips; she had seen his pictures online. Once, she told him he had thick lips and he asked if she would love to bite them. The other day, he asked if she would love to run her fingers on them. She could only say YES.

She wanted him, but she was scared. He made her feel good, but she was scared. She was scared of another heartbreak; scared of another failed relationship. She was broken, but she felt he could fix her. He asked her to let him in repeatedly, but she didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but she didn’t know how to.

For her, it didn’t matter if she never got more than his voice. His voice was what she yearned for. She dreamt it; she wished to hear it every day. It didn’t matter what they talked about. She was ready to hear the teeniest details of his day. At that moment, it was all she wanted. If he ever asked her what she wanted from him, her reply would be ‘talk to me’.

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