I laughed. “On the contrary, I find that…endearing.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I assure you, I’m not,” I said. “I’ve never really watched animated films, to be honest.”
“Not even growing up?”
“No, but there has to be a reason they’re so damn popular.”
“Because they’re inspirational and transformative.”
“Wow,” I laughed. “That’s quite the recommendation.”
“I have to add a few more movie titles to the list I’m going to introduce you to,” Megan said.
“Feel free,” I smiled.
We ended up talking for almost two hours. Every time I glanced at the clock, another fifteen minutes had passed, and I couldn’t quite believe it. She was extraordinarily easy to talk to, and I felt myself relax the more we spoke. We could have kept talking for another two hours, but when eleven o’clock drew to a close, I knew I needed to get some sleep, or I’d be useless tomorrow for work.
“I’m sorry, Megan,” I told her. “I really hate to say goodnight, but I have an early shift tomorrow.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “I should have realized… I’m sorry to have kept you up.”
“Please don’t apologize, I had a blast.”
I don’t know how I knew it, but I knew she was smiling on the other line. “Can I call you again in a few days?” I asked.
“Call me anytime you want,” Megan replied. “Goodnight, Phil.”
“Goodnight, Megan.”
I hung up and stared at my ceiling for a long time, wondering how on earth I was going to be able to sleep when I felt so wired. I could feel excitement coursing through my veins, and it amazed me that a conversation with a girl could have that effect on me.
Forty minutes later, when I finally managed to calm down enough to go to sleep, dreams filled my consciousness like back-to-back movies. And, all of them featured Megan.
Chapter Four
Megan
“Hi, honey,” Marta said, popping her head up over my cubicle. “Want a chicken sandwich? I made them only this morning.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Marta,” I said. “But I’m good.”
Marta’s eyebrows went up a little, and she stood up so that I could see her whole face. She was a genial woman with beautiful dark skin and thick black hair always tied into a topknot that was made from an intricate collection of braids.
“You’re good?” she asked.
“Um, yeah.”
“Have you tried my chicken sandwiches?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Obviously, because if you had, you wouldn’t be saying no to them now,” Marta said. She walked around to my cubicle and leaned against my desk. “Take one,” she said firmly, offering me an open lunch box filled with the largest sandwiches I’d ever seen.
“Wow,” I said. “Those look impressive.”
“They taste even better,” she insisted. “Now take one—you’re too damn skinny.”