First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

Struggling, I think, afraid to say the word out loud. Afraid to make it real. I’ve been struggling and I have no idea how to fix it. If it can even be fixed. I think I’ve—I think it’s possible I’ve fallen out of love with love, burned by one too many lackluster calls. Burned by the shitty circumstances my family’s been handed too. It feels like every time I get my hopes up for something good, reality comes out swinging. I don’t know how to be a hopeful person anymore. It’s easier not to be.

Wow this is the truest thing

All day long, I’m trying and I’m so tired. Why can’t this be the one thing I don’t have to try at? Why can’t it be a thing that just…happens? I don’t want—I don’t want to think about what I should say or how I should act or…or have talking points in the notes app of my phone for a dinner date at a restaurant that I don’t really like. I want to feel something when I connect with someone. I want sparks. The good kind, you know? I want to laugh and mean it. I want goose bumps. I want to wonder what my date is thinking about and hope it might be me. I want…I want the magic.”

I want to be wanted. All this time and I—I haven’t given up. I guess I’m just waiting for it to find me.”

“You have a pineapple pizza?” I nod, annoyed with myself. “I do.” “You said pineapple on pizza is disgusting.” “It is.” “Then why do you have it?” “Because you said it was your favorite,” I admit. “And I want your favorite to be my favorite.”